by Anthology
Her sister cast a smile in Branson’s direction. “Can I assume that you will be speaking to Father in the morning to work out the marriage settlement?”
“Of course—if Olivia agrees,” Brandon replied. He took Olivia’s hand and waited for her to respond.
Olivia swallowed, blinking rapidly to keep tears from spilling onto her cheeks. She supposed she could forgive her sister for stealing the eye miniature in order to bring love into her life. “Yes, I will marry you, Henry.”
Anne clapped her hands. “Excellent. In that case, I will leave you alone—but for only a few moments.”
Henry grabbed Olivia as soon as the door was shut and kissed her. “I love you, Olivia.”
Olivia met his gaze, seeing the love in his eyes. “I love you, too.”
Roguishly Handsome, and Other Superhero Problems
Tray Ellis
“You aren’t even applying?” Velda paused to dunk one end of an almond-vanilla biscotti into her café mocha before nibbling it. “But you’d be an amazing doctor. You wanted to be a pediatrician. Or was it a podiatrist?”
“I wanted to be a pulmonologist, and no, I didn’t apply. I’ve thought about it,” Ariel said with certainty. “But it won’t work. I have to be able to leave at a moment’s notice. That’s not possible if you’re a doctor.” She leaned forward. “But I can still be in the medical field. As a researcher. There’s so much we don’t know about how the body works. I can help people, but it’ll be in a different way.” She reached out for her cup of tea. Her hand shook a little and the tea sloshed out. “I already sent off my application packets to several grad schools.”
“You did? Good!” Velda sat straighter in the booth. The sunlight slanted in through the window, and she squinted slightly at Ariel through her prim wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m so glad to hear it. I worried you might do something stupid and not go at all.” She paused. “You applied to Bristlecone University?”
“Of course I did.” Ariel wiped up the spill with a napkin. “It’s my first choice. If I get in, then we can room together. Like we do now.”
“My fingers are crossed!” Velda held up both hands, with double fingers twined together. “We can’t get separated. We’ve been best friends since forever.”
“And we’re both one of a kind,” Ariel added in a low, secretive voice. She and Velda were the children of families that thrived in the small, secluded farming town of Dovecote. Ariel had grown up feeling ordinary, along with all the other children, even though something unexplainable about the terrior inclined special gifts upon a majority of the population. She’d anticipated going away to college with equal parts dread and excitement. Back home, being gifted wasn’t unusual, and for decades all understood that bad things happened when the outside world took notice of Dovecote’s peculiar population. Ariel glanced left and right, but no one was paying attention to them, and she settled back. “While you get a degree in education, I’ll get one in science.”
“You’d make a great teacher, too, you know,” Velda said, a hint of reproach to her words. “If you wanted to do it. You don’t have to shut yourself up in a research lab. Science seems so lonely. All those test tubes and centrifuges and late nights spent alone.”
“Can’t.” Ariel sighed and looked out the window. People were walking by with purpose, each on their way somewhere. So many lives, and sometimes, they seemed so terribly fragile. She looked back at Velda. “I wouldn’t last a month as a teacher. Who would watch the kids when I had to leave?”
“You could do it in Dovecote.”
“Others back home can help even better than me. Out here, they don’t have hardly anyone. Hasn’t it seemed wrong to just always hide?”
“You know that’s a complicated question.” Velda sipped her coffee. “Would it be so bad if you let the police handle things? They’re good at what they do. You don’t owe anyone anything.”
“Sometimes I’m the only one who can help.” Ariel looked down at her tea. The mug was comfortingly warm in her hands.
“You couldn’t have saved Charlie or Henry, even if you’d been there.”
“Maybe. But if I’d been there, I could have at least tried. I always wonder what if.” Ariel shivered and focused on the sunshine streaming in through the window. The day was too beautiful to dwell on sad remembrances.
“You always try to take on too much.” Velda shook her head. “You should be able to follow your dreams, too.”
“I don’t go looking for trouble. It’s just helping out with rescues. Maybe someday it’ll be enough and I won’t need to anymore. But if I don’t, it just feels selfish.” Ariel tried to sip her tea, but her throat constricted tightly. She held it in front of her face and breathed in the scented waft of steam.
Velda dunked her biscotti again, and they sat there in silence for a minute.
Ariel tried to imagine would it be like if she’d developed Velda’s abilities instead of her own. Both were powerful and useful, but Velda’s were quiet. Ariel’s were not.
Velda leaned forward to speak again when they overheard the man in the booth behind them. He’d been speaking on the phone to someone, and now he related his information. “That was Jack on the phone. He’s on the bridge, and he said there’s some kind of punk-ass desperado in an armored truck crashing into cars. The police are throwing up roadblocks, and Jack is caught in all the traffic. He said we shouldn’t wait. I think we should get out of here before all the roads are clogged.”
“I agree,” said a woman, and a moment later, they both stood up and headed toward the exit.
Velda sighed. “You’re going?”
Ariel dug out her wallet and extracted money to pay for her drink and then a little extra. She pushed it toward Velda. “Yeah. I can’t ignore it, can I? Would you mind picking up some bananas on your way home? I ate the last one for breakfast this morning.”
“Just come home safe,” Velda said. She stared at the money but didn’t touch it. “You aren’t invincible, you know.” She brushed a loose strand of hair behind an ear with one hand. “And it’s your turn to take out the recycling for tomorrow. Don’t forget. I don’t want to hear any excuses about being tired.”
Grabbing her backpack, Ariel rolled her eyes. “I’ve got my book club tonight. You don’t think I’d miss that? I’ll be home before dinner.” She turned and dashed away, looking for a suitable place to change clothes. The bathroom of the café—one room with a small upper window—seemed perfect.
Very little time was needed to strip off her clothes and change into her costume. The backside of the door also had a full-length mirror and Ariel paused to check herself over. Unlike the heroes in the comic books, she dressed with practicality in mind. She almost always wore her black construction boots with steel toes, for the rare case where she might need to kick something. In her backpack, she kept a pair of black cargo pants, a black T-shirt, and a thick black windbreaker. It got breezy when she took to the air. She also wore a three-quarter helmet with a clear, partial face shield. Masks, she had discovered, were troublesome and did not protect one’s head.
She pulled her dark brown hair up into a ponytail, plunked on the helmet, shoved her regular clothes into the backpack, and opened the window. A moment later, she was airborne. First, she scooted straight up and dropped off her backpack in a corner of the roof. She would return later and collect it. Then, she scanned the horizon, determined where the desperado was causing trouble, and headed straight out.
As the ground zipped by below her, people gawked at the sight of a flying girl. Several minutes later, Ariel slowed and hovered. There was a bozo in an armored truck. He was past the bridge now, but he’d left behind him a swath of dented vehicles. A police blockade was springing up downstream from him, but he’d smash through unless they had more time to finish setting up.
Ariel put her hands on her hips and considered the situation. She had no desire to get in the way of the police. Her intentions had always been to provide assistance with rescuing people.
Although her natural talent was telekinesis, she wasn’t trained to respond to active scenarios. Fighting a bad guy directly would be more than beyond her skill set.
Except, she was horrified to watch as the armored truck smashed into another vehicle. Bits of glass streaked everywhere. The clash of metal on metal vibrated down her spine, and the scent of exhaust fumes and dripping vehicle fluids seared her throat. She had to do something!
Again, Ariel glanced to the police blockade. She might not be able to stop him directly, but she could probably delay him long enough to let the police finish the job. Flying was one thing, and a skill she’d been practicing so long that it seemed second nature, but other manipulations required extreme focus. She extended her awareness and focused on the truck. Against her will, it careened into another vehicle, once again sending glass fragments flying and ripping metal and plastic to shreds. There were limits to the amount of weight she could heft with her ability, and an armored truck was far heavier than she could control.
She looked to the police blockage again. Perhaps she didn’t need to do anything other than distract the driver using bluff and bluster. With a knot of anxiety in her stomach, she flew after the bad guy.
Determinedly, Ariel swooped down and landed on the hood of the car. “Hey, buster,” she yelled. “Stop that truck, or I’ll do it for you.” Through the windshield, she could see the utter surprise on the ne’er-do-well’s face. His strikingly handsome face, with chiseled features and penetrating eyes. He looked like he should have been modeling for a high-end magazine, instead of causing havoc on the roads.
The surprise was quickly replaced by drawn-down eyebrows and a devilish look. He mouthed some words.
Although Ariel couldn’t hear them, it was pretty easy to read his lips: make me.
Then, the armored truck sped up, and Ariel glanced behind her. He was headed straight for the backside of a pickup truck. Ariel narrowed her eyes and shook her head. Okay, so he was calling her bluff.
She launched back into the air and twisted around. Now she was behind the armored truck. She couldn’t move the behemoth by itself, but maybe she didn’t need to. There were controls in the cabin meant to make operating it very easy.
First, she wobbled the steering wheel. The car skidded left, right, and left again. The tires squealed and left long black marks on the asphalt. Encouraged by her success, Ariel maneuvered the shift-lever and slammed the vehicle out of Drive and into Park. There came an awful rending sound, and the vehicle thudded. Shuddering, it finally came to a stop.
A moment later, the door opened, and the man popped out. “Listen, sweetheart,” he called out.
Ariel was surprised by his jovial tone. She’d expected something sinister, cruel even, and brimming with spite and anger. This man was grinning like a jester and looked like he was having the time of his life.
“If you think it’s that easy, you better think again.”
He had a gun.
Ariel stretched out her hands. Stopping teeny, tiny flying projectiles going at ridiculously fast speeds was not her forte. She had practiced it with guns aimed away from her with some success, but never directed at her. Ariel paused, confused, and tried to latch onto the bullet, but the air was empty. Panic bubbled in her throat. She’d somehow missed—
Stinging pain blossomed on her hip. Ariel looked down. A wide, bright splotch of purple painted her hip. “Paint gun?” she said out loud, disbelieving. Of course, the bullet hadn’t been where she’d expected. Paint rounds traveled so much more slowly.
“You got it, gorgeous,” the man said again. “Much more effective. And way more fun.” He vaulted over the hood of one of the stalled cars he’d crashed into earlier and tackled Ariel.
In defense, Ariel shot up into the air. “Get off me!” she yelled. He had her in a tight hug, and it was definitely a frightening position to be in. Even if he did smell like some amazing aftershave. “Let go! Buster, you are going to be so sorry!”
“Max,” he said, his voice purring in her ear. “Please call me Max. And if I let go, I’ll fall. You don’t really want me to fall, do you?” He shifted his grip around her and instead of being vise-like, it was suddenly intimate. She could feel his hands on her shoulders and splayed against her ribs, warm and broad. Face to face now, Ariel stared into his eyes. They were green, like the darkest pine needles in a shaded forest.
A spark of indignance flared through her. She was not here to gaze into the eyes of a reprobate. Nor to think poetic thoughts about his debonair attractiveness. She was here to rescue people hurt by his miscreant deeds, and she needed to put a stop to his continuing to hurt more people. “Listen, buster,” she emphasized the incorrect name. She would not start calling him Max. Not even if he did look like a very handsome Max. “This little tirade of yours is over.”
Max laughed. “Of course it is, sweet pea.” He glanced down. “If you haven’t noticed yet, you’ve got us so high up, everyone looks like ants.” His grip around her tightened, but it felt more like an amorous embrace than a man clutching for dear life so he wouldn’t fall to his death. “I like it,” he said, his already deep voice husk-toned and full of promising intentions. “It’s nice being up here all alone with you.” He leaned in slowly, his eyes closed and his lush lips pouted out into an obvious moue.
Ariel gaped. She’d rocketed them sky-high, and Max’s reaction was to try and kiss her? Her first thought was to drop him and see how much he enjoyed a one-way trip, but she couldn’t kill him. Not even if she wanted to just a little. What she wanted more was to let him kiss her. “You’re a criminal,” she pointed out, trying to forestall his actions, “and obviously a thief if you think you can steal a kiss.”
One eye popped open and both eyebrows rose, giving him a squinty, affronted look. It seemed put on, though, and disingenuous. Beneath it, he was highly amused. “Sweetheart, I don’t steal kisses. I bestow them. Completely and utterly different.” He closed the one eye, and his expression smoothed out. He leaned in again, much more quickly, and caught Ariel straight on where her face shield didn’t cover her mouth.
Max’s hand on her shoulder shifted to cradle the back of her neck, and he immediately deepened the kiss. There was the barest scratch from his clean-shaven face against her skin. The scent of his aftershave enveloped her, causing a plunge in her stomach entirely unrelated to the short plummeting dip they’d taken when their lips had met and she’d briefly lost focus and forgotten they were flying.
His lips were soft against hers, and he kissed like he was a man in love, not overwhelming, not demanding, not insistent. In his arms, she felt cherished, as if the kiss itself were the end and the beginning, and all meaningful things in between. She melted against him, accepting the benefaction. Then, at the end, the tempo changed, and he pressed a little harder against her. Devotion, yes, but also adoration and more than a hint of lust. He desired her, and he wanted her to know it.
Heat seared Ariel’s insides as the fantasy of taking him to bed welled up. She wanted so much more, she practically burned with the urges developing within. His kiss faded as he left her mouth and rubbed against her chin to trail down her throat, ending with an embellishing swirl across the jut of her collarbone. Ariel gasped in air and enjoyed the final sensation as it permeated to her very core. Torrents and eddies of desire coursed through her. The cascade of bright need and possessiveness felt nearly physical, and Ariel flexed her fingers, trying to dispel it.
A barrage of small explosions startled them both. For a moment, Max’s face registered real concern and confusion.
Ariel caught her breath as she bewilderedly tried to make sense of the noise and small concussions. “What just happened?” she asked, still recovering her senses.
Suave attitude immediately restored, Max nipped briefly at Ariel’s mouth. “I just kissed the daylights out of you. And you caused all my paintballs to self implode.”
“What?” Ariel tried to grasp his meaning, but it was slow to sink in.
“I have
to admit, it was an excellent, excellent kiss. Worth every single paintball.” Max motioned with his head to his pockets and to the paint-gun slung across his back with a band. Everything was dripping virulent green, purple, yellow, and red. A moment passed. The wet paint had saturated the fabric of his jacket and was now oozing outward. “Best course of action is always to wash it as soon as possible. I have a great recipe for a prewash soak that I can share with you. It uses detergent and ammonia.”
“You do that,” Ariel said, finally recovering her senses. It had been a fantastic kiss, but the exploding paintballs reminded her Max had been smashing up cars and hurting people. Kissing him again was a bad idea, and taking him to bed was out of the question. He obviously kissed women indiscriminately, and he was probably full of germs. Rakishly handsome or not, he was full to the brim of trouble and more trouble. “I’m still handing you over to the police, buster.”
Max raised a single eyebrow. “Do tell.” He looked down. “What police?”
Ariel reoriented herself and realized with dismay that he’d distracted her entirely. They gone even higher than before and kept moving. The bridge was long gone, and they were floating over the very edge of where the suburbs turned into farmland.
“How about you set me down, and we call it a day?” Max offered.
Ariel scowled. “No. I’ll have us back in a jiffy. Hold on.”
“With pleasure, mademoiselle.” He shifted his arms around her again, until their position reflected that of dancers. One strong hand pressed into the small of her back and the other arm wrapped around her shoulders.
Ariel chose to ignore him. As long as he didn’t touch anything he wasn’t supposed to, she wouldn’t drop him smack in the center of the closest duck pond.
The flight back only took a minute. Even with the extra weight, Ariel was well practiced at using her flying abilities. The police were still at the bridge, although they appeared uncertain if they needed to continue to maintain the blockade or not. Several ambulances were there as well, their spinning lights flashing on all the damaged vehicles. The sight sent a pang of agitation through her. She shouldn’t have been dilly-dallying up in the sky kissing the bad guy. She needed to stay focused. She wasn’t even supposed to be fighting. Her goal had always been to assist with rescue operations. Maybe Velda was right. Even if she did have these incredible powers, perhaps she was better off using them in smaller ways to do good and help people.
