by Debra Doxer
He turns and looks up, his navy-blue eyes catching mine. After a moment, they narrow, like he knows what I’m thinking, and I feel my face grow hot. My hands are itching to touch him, and despite my better judgment, in spite of the fact that I’m not going to be good for him, I allow his gaze to pull me in, and I close the distance between us. He doesn’t move or reach for me as I hesitantly lay my hands flat against his chest and breathe out the warmth I feel when I’m close to him. He remains still, seeming to wait for me, letting me decide what I’m doing here. But I have no idea what I’m doing. I only know that I want to be close to him.
My fingers lightly brush over the soft cotton of his shirt. When I move lower, flattening my palms against the hard surface of his stomach, he exhales, tickling my face with his sweet breath. My hands work their way up again, over the bunched muscles of his shoulders, and farther upward to the scruff of his cheek.
“I missed you,” I whisper before leaning up and pressing my lips to his. He’s still standing there with his arms by his sides. This isn’t what I’d planned on doing when we walked in here. My head is still a jumble of confusing emotions, but my body knows what it wants.
I push my fingers into his thick hair and slant my mouth across his, urging him to kiss me. When I lick his upper lip, he finally does, enveloping me in his arms, spreading his hands wide across my back as his mouth opens over mine.
He moves quickly from stoic restraint to passionate aggression as he meets my need with a harsh want of his own, fisting his hand in my hair, and urging my head back so he can plunge more deeply into my mouth. Every thought in my head flees as he takes me over. I only know the movement of his muscles as he caresses me and the strength of the arms that hold me. I grip his shoulders when he lifts me off my feet and lays me down on the bed. He covers my body with his, angling himself between my legs, which instinctively part for him.
“I missed you, too,” he whispers in my ear and begins to trail warm, wet kisses down the side of my neck.
I’m completely lost in sensation when his name falls from my lips.
“Hmm,” he responds, his low voice vibrating inside his chest.
I look at him, watching as his eyes slowly rise up to meet mine. They darken as his hand reaches out to brush my hair back from my face. Deep blue pools pierce me with their intensity, holding me in their gaze and not letting go. When his hand moves lower to brush against my breast, and he pushes his hips into mine, I gasp, arching up against him.
His nostrils flare in response, and he does it again, grinding himself against me, causing desire to flame deep within me. I hear myself moan softly before his mouth covers mine, capturing the sound as both his tongue and his hips push in on me in a persistent, even rhythm. We’re still fully dressed, but I can feel the tension gathering in my muscles as I squeeze my thighs around him.
He watches the way I respond to everything he’s doing as his eyes constantly capture mine. Soon the pressure inside me builds to an excruciating level and I groan, my head tilting back into the pillow, my breathing harsh in my ears. I remember this feeling from that night at the bridge and the initial fear of giving in to it, of losing control and falling over the edge. I didn’t think things would go this far when I first kissed him. I only wanted to be near him, but he’s bringing me back to life, and I’m shocked by how much I want him to.
“Go ahead, baby,” he says breathlessly. “Let go.”
And with those words, I do. I let the release happen, feeling my body arch up against his as my muscles tighten and my fingers dig into his shoulders. Heat courses through me, pulsing stronger with each wave until it crests into a sweet burn that singes and sparks behind my eyes. I hear Lucas’s voice from far away. It sounds like a harsh grunt and suddenly his weight is gone.
I blink my eyes open, sucking in a breath as I regain my senses. My body feels cold as I realize I’m alone on the bed. Jerking myself up, I look around and say his name.
I hear him clear his throat. “Down here.”
When I peer over the side, he’s on the floor, gingerly lifting himself to a sitting position. “What are you doing down there?”
He runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
I lower myself down to the carpet beside him, trying not to laugh. “Did you fall off?”
He stares at me for a long moment. “Actually, I think you pushed me off.”
“I did not push you.” I can’t help the giggle that erupts. But I quickly realize that his expression is serious. My smile begins to falter.
He rubs a hand against his shoulder and winces. “Didn’t you feel it? A burst of energy came at me, and the next thing I knew I was flat on my back.”
My grin completely dissolves.
His gaze sharpens. “What the hell was that?”
I swallow another denial. Unease prickles through me.
Lucas continues to stare at me. “It happened right when you were…” He motions his hand toward me.
Understanding his meaning, my eyes widen before squeezing closed.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He places his hand on my knee.
I shake my head as reality jolts me. He’s not joking. He really believes my energy somehow pushed him off the bed. Is it possible that I unknowingly generated it? My eyes pop open, and I see him rubbing his shoulder. “I hurt you?”
He immediately lowers his hand. “I’m fine.”
Guilt and confusion build inside me. “Let me heal it.” I reach out to him, but he halts me, catching and lowering my arm. “I’m fine. Really.”
I eye him, growing more upset by the minute, knowing I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel anything but amazing.
“What do you think happened?” Lucas’s concerned eyes search mine.
I run a shaky hand over my hair. “I don’t know. I didn’t even realize I’d done it.” But I must have. His expression is so certain and so completely bewildered.
My chest is rising and falling too quickly, and I will myself to settle down. But my thoughts keep racing, trying to figure out how the hell that could have happened.
“Shh,” he murmurs, reaching for the hand he just avoided. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Calm down, Ray.” His voice is low and even. He’s calm, too calm, like he’s faking it. He’s freaked out, too. Of course he is. How could he not be?
KNUCKLES WRAPPING hard against the closed door startle us.
“Raielle!” Apollo’s voice shouts. “As long as you’re skipping school today, your daddy wants to see you. I’m waiting on you. So hurry it up.”
Holy shit. I’m keeping it cool for her benefit, but inside, I’m going crazy.
When she stands to open the door, I rotate my shoulder and hoist myself up. Obviously, this energy she talks about has gotten a hell of a lot stronger, and she can’t seem to control it. It felt like I touched a live wire.
She’s standing at the door talking quietly to Apollo when she darts a look in my direction. Then she urges him back and steps out of the room. Obviously, she doesn’t want me to hear something. I want to barge out there and make sure she understands there are no secrets between us, but I need a minute to clear my head and calm myself down. I have no idea what just happened, and my thoughts are still reeling over the fact that I’ve finally found her.
When I woke up this morning, I didn’t think this would be the day I would see her again. I was starting to believe we would never be together, or that I might be disappointed when we were, because the heady experience of being near her must have been something I imagined. The potent attraction I remembered had to be an exaggeration of reality. That’s what I’d begun to think. Then I saw her, and I knew it was all true. If anything, I’d underestimated how my heart pumps faster for her and my fingers itch to touch her. The way I need her levels me completely.
Their voices carry to me from beyond the door, and I wonder, not for the f
irst time, if Apollo was Alec’s contact to her father. That would make sense. He was the one who came to Fort Upton to get her when Alec reached out for help.
Apollo barges back into the bedroom past a protesting Raielle. “Look, Raielle’s father wants to meet you, and I told him I’d bring you both over there. But she doesn’t want you to go.”
I notice the mutinous expression on her face. “Why not? Too soon to meet the parents?” I tease, trying to smooth out that little crease that forms between her eyebrows when she worries.
She folds her arms and tilts her head at me. “I don’t want you involved with him, not if he has enemies that could be dangerous.”
I make no attempt to cover my annoyance at her.
“We’ll look out for him. Just like we look out for you,” Apollo says.
I keep my thoughts about how well he looks out for her to myself. “I’ll follow you again.”
Apollo nods at me and once he’s out of the room, Raielle eyes my shoulder with a frown. “Are you really okay?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Don’t worry about it? Right. I’m a freak show.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “But you’re my freak show.”
Her eyes widen at me, before her lips twitch with a reluctant smile.
“So,” I begin, wanting to get her mind off it as we head to the door, “tell me about your father.”
Her long sigh indicates my subject change may not be a good one. I’m inclined to dislike her father as much as I hate Apollo. His complete absence from her life, his association with Alec, and the way he ripped her away from me are all good reasons to despise him. But he did save her life, and for that I feel indebted to him. For her sake, I’m hoping he’s been kind to her, and that the reason he stayed away was to keep her safe.
“There’s not much to tell,” she replies. “I haven’t spent much time with him.” Then she glances away, saying nothing more about him. Her reluctance to talk about him tells me more than she’d like it to.
The drive takes nearly an hour due to the massive traffic jams that plague this town. I follow behind Apollo, watching curiously as we drive up the narrow, winding roads that lead into the Hollywood Hills. Then we get buzzed through a private gate and continue onto a wooded roadway. Once I pull to a stop behind Apollo, I try to get out of the truck before Raielle can climb down on her own. But I’m too late; I watch as her long legs slip out toward the stone-paved driveway. She smiles at me as I reach out to her.
Holding her right hand tighter than necessary, I find myself glancing at her wrist and forearm, grateful that there’s no sign of the tumors that once grew there, thankful that she can feel my fingers surrounding hers. I’ll never forget the stifling fear of watching her deteriorate while she put up a brave front. It was pure torture, even worse than coming home to find Liam bleeding at the bottom of the stairs. When Liam was hurt, there was something I could do; I could ask Raielle to help him. When she was suffering, I was completely useless to her. Hearing the story of her nearly dying on her way to find her father was like pouring salt on an open wound.
I tear my eyes away from her and take a look around. Based on the condo she’s living in, I figured her dad had money, but this house is proof of it. It’s a huge four-story looming mass of wood and glass. There’s a lot of land and ostentation with the fountain and the carved-wood doors. Ironic that she’s lived most of her life like a pauper.
I notice Raielle looking around the front of the house. “Who do all these cars belong to?” she asks.
“The office is open today,” Apollo answers.
I shoot her a curious look, but her eyes are unfocused, and I can feel the tension in her.
“You okay?” I lightly shake her arm to get her attention.
She blinks at me and then nods her head. But she doesn’t like being here. I can see that.
We follow Apollo up a short set of stairs and the front door opens just as he reaches it. A beefy guy dressed in a black suit nods at us as we file inside the house.
“I’ll see you later.” Apollo waves over his shoulder. Then he disappears down one of the many hallways that lead off the entryway.
Raielle seems nervous as she watches after him. Soon we can hear clicking heels echoing off the tile floor, growing louder. After a moment, an attractive brunette rounds the corner. She’s dressed in tiny black shorts and a tight pink T-shirt. “Hi, Raielle,” she says as she beams at her.
“Hi, um…” Raielle hesitates.
“Charlie,” she supplies. Then her glossy pink lips grin up at me. “And who’s this?”
I notice Raielle’s jaw tighten before she answers. “My boyfriend, Lucas.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucas.” She reaches her hand out to me and I shake it, watching as the furrow on Raielle’s forehead deepens.
“He’s waiting for you both in the meeting room. Just follow me.” Then she turns and begins an exaggerated sashay down the hall.
“Who is she?” I whisper in Raielle’s ear.
“One of Shane’s friends.” She puts air quotes around the word friends, and I wonder why she dislikes Shane so much. It’s not like her to be hateful toward people, even if her brother is a sadomasochistic smartass.
Charlie stops at the last door, then pushes it open and walks inside. I follow behind Raielle into what looks like a formal living room. Both our eyes go straight to the couch, where a frightened-looking kid is sitting.
“You must be Lucas?”
I turn toward a tall, uptight-looking guy who stands and approaches us.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” He smiles at Raielle.
She seems surprised by the endearment and offers him a hesitant smile.
“I’m John, Raielle’s father.” His eyes, which are a strange shade of dark green, focus on me again.
“Nice to meet you, John…” I say, letting the sentence hang, wanting to know what his full name really is after the bullshit name Alec gave us.
He stares at me for a beat, before replying, “Just John.”
I nearly snort out a laugh. Just John, like just Beyoncé?
But he doesn’t notice my reaction as he turns his attention to Raielle. “I’d like you to meet some people.”
He moves in front of the couch where the boy is sitting. “This is Leo and his mother.” At his introduction, the boy’s round brown eyes dart between us nervously. I notice that he has thick gauze bandages wrapped around both his wrists. He looks to be around eleven or twelve. Beside him, his mother has her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She seems uneasy, too.
“They’ve come to us for help. Leo was just released from the hospital this morning. He tried to take his own life.”
I can sense Raielle’s surprise as she stares at the boy. Her feelings are the same as mine.
“Leo knows he made a mistake,” John says. “And the stigma of what he’s done will follow him forever. The scars on his wrists will never fade. His mother thinks he’ll be able to move on more easily if those scars weren’t there to serve as a painful reminder.”
His words sound stilted, like he practiced them too many times. My shock multiplies. Her kid just tried to off himself, and she’s worried about the scars?
John turns to Raielle. “I’d like you to do it, sweetheart, if that’s all right.”
She stiffens. “Why?”
“I want to observe you while you heal him.”
The kid looks petrified, and it’s horrifying that his mother would put him through this now, after what he just attempted.
John glances at me, but then looks back at Raielle again. “Please indulge me. When you heal him, I’ll be able to take the measure of your energy. Then I can help you work on it. If not him, we can wait for another patient.”
“No,” the mother says, speaking for the first time. “I’ve already paid you. You said this would happen today before anyone can see what he’s done to himself.”
Raiel
le and I exchange mutually disgusted looks. There’s no way she’s going to agree to this.
Her father takes a step closer to her. When he speaks, his voice is low so only we can hear. “You can help him, and not just with the scars. Your healing can have a positive effect on his mental state, too.”
She shakes her head. “No, it can’t.” Her eyes meet mine. She’s thinking of my mother. While she was able to undo the devastation her grandmother caused, she had no effect on my mother’s depression. That’s still there, and it’s still hurting my family.
“I think you can. It’s worth trying. Don’t you think?” John asks, his voice softly persuasive.
She bites her lip and glances at me. When I shake my head at her, her eyes flick back to the boy.
I reach for her hand. “You can’t agree to do this.” I can feel her father’s gaze on me. “Have you healed anyone since Penelope?”
“No.” Her eyes find mine again. “But what if I can help him? Maybe I should try,” she says quietly.
I look at Leo again. He’s shaking like a leaf. This is just plain wrong. Am I the only one who sees that? “Look at him. This isn’t right.”
Her eyes fill with compassion. “I already feel a connection to him. I want to try.”
John smiles at her, pleased with her decision. My reaction is very different, but she’s purposely not looking at me as she pulls her hand from mine.
John moves to the empty couch and sits down, giving Raielle the floor. I watch as she pulls in a breath, readying herself. She’s nervous. I weigh whether I should try to stop her. I have no idea why she would agree to do this. But in the end, it’s her decision, and I can’t believe the way she made it.
“Do you mind if I sit beside you, Leo?” she asks the boy gently.
He glances at his mother first before slowly nodding at her.
With a warm smile on her face, she sits down on the couch next to Leo. “I knew a boy your age once,” she says. “His name was Ritchie. He liked to play basketball. Do you play?”
Leo stares at her for a moment before slowly nodding his head.
