by Debra Doxer
His jaw works for a minute before he meets my eyes again. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. I’m sorry.”
Tilting my head at him, I’m surprised by his apology. I don’t know if it’s sincere or if it’s the alcohol talking, but it doesn’t matter. Time will tell if he intends to stop being an ass to me.
“You know that most of us can’t do what you did today,” Shane says. Then he holds a hand up. “Strike that. No one can do what you did today.”
I just look at him, understanding that even among people who are supposed to share my ability, I’m a freak, just like Charlie said. Maybe no one here can help me, and I’m fooling myself by thinking otherwise. I’m not exactly fitting in here, which means I don’t really belong anywhere. Right on time, Nikki appears with another shot and I down it, waiting for my senses to dull even more.
“Let’s start a tab and get a table.” Nikki grabs my arm. “I think Jason is going to get in trouble if we cop any more freebies off him.”
Before long, Nikki stakes a claim at a table by the door, and Shane offers to get us more drinks. Grant pulls out a chair for me. “You and I need to talk,” he says once we sit down. Shane is at the bar and Nikki’s attention is on a football game playing on the television mounted on the wall.
“Why? I don’t know you,” I say rudely, plopping down on the wooden chair harder than I intended.
“Sure you do. I’m Grant.” He smiles innocently.
I squint up at him. “You know what I mean. Do you work with my father?”
“Sometimes,” he answers vaguely.
I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. “Okay, Grant.” I stare into his light brown eyes, which are focused on me and lit with amusement. “On a scale of one to ten, how good a healer are you?”
His brow wrinkles.
“Come on,” I prod as the lightness I felt after the first shot magnifies, loosening my tongue even more. “Some of us are stronger than others. I see your scars. So, I think you’re closer to a one than a ten if you can’t heal yourself.”
He mimics me, placing his elbow on the table. “You think I’m not strong enough to heal my own scars?”
“That’s exactly what I think. I could heal them for you.” I think of Leo’s scars and swallow back the regret, focusing on Grant instead and on trying to knock the cocky grin off his face. Boldly, I place my hand on his forearm while he watches me, but I frown as the energy once again betrays me.
He takes my hand in his large rough one. “First of all, I don’t want my scars healed. They’re mine and I want to keep them. Secondly, alcohol dulls your powers. I doubt you’d have much effect on my scars right now.”
I take my hand back as a puzzle piece fits into place. “That’s another reason why she did it.”
“Who?”
“My mother. Why she drank.” I glance up to find him looking at me oddly, but I focus on his scars again. “Why do you want to keep them?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer at first. Then his gaze intensifies and he quietly says, “They’re reminders of my mistakes.”
My eyes travel over the tiny network of white lines that crisscross his cheek and brow. Before I can ask him about those mistakes, Shane appears with four more shots and some beers. I know I should probably stop now. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and it’s becoming hard to focus, but I like the fuzzy way my brain feels. My worries seem far away, and I want to keep them there. So I do another shot and sit back, letting the burn flow through me, enjoying the numbness that continues to grow.
Jason is on a break. He’s sitting with us now, and he has Nikki on his lap. Grant is sitting a little too close to me, but his attention has shifted to Shane. I’m watching them all through a haze and sipping the bitter beer Jason placed in front of me.
When my phone buzzes in my pocket, it takes me a moment to pull it out and remember how to answer it. When I finally do, I hear Lucas’s voice in my ear. “Where are you?”
I glance at the clock on the screen, but I can’t seem to read it. I guess I must be late, though. “Sorry, I lost track of time,” I say, holding a finger to my ear to block out the noise.
“Where are you?” he asks again.
“Um…” It takes me a moment to remember the name of the bar. “At Crossroads,” I finally reply.
“Crossroads?” he asks, his voice getting louder.
“Nikki’s here,” I explain. “And Jason, Shane, and Grant, too.” At the sound of her name, Nikki glances at me and sticks her tongue out, making a funny face.
I giggle.
“Are you drinking?” he asks, sounding astonished at the possibility.
“Yes, a lot,” I answer and laugh again. “I’m sorry I forgot about meeting you. I’ll come right now.”
“No,” he says quickly. “I’ll come to you. Just stay where you are.”
I nod, but realize that he can’t see me. Then I hang up and close my eyes, enjoying the way the room is swaying, and I imagine this must be what it feels like to be on a boat, something I’ve never done but always wanted to do growing up in San Diego. I’m not sure how much time passes before Grant’s voice says, “Why don’t you let me take you home.”
I nod, thinking sleep sounds like a very good idea. He helps me up from my chair, and I bat his hands away. “I’m fine,” I complain, but as soon as he releases me, the room starts to sway, or maybe I do. His arms come around me, holding me up easily, like I weigh nothing at all.
“Good night,” he tells everyone, and I halfheartedly wave in their direction as I float past.
He secures me against his side as he maneuvers us to the door. Once we’re out on the sidewalk, I inhale the cool night air and watch car headlights zooming past. Grant places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. He’s looking very serious as his eyes travel over my face. I know he’s handsome, with his classic features and his tall build, but he does nothing for me. He isn’t even a close second to Lucas.
When his hand starts to trace along my cheek, it takes a moment for me to recognize the look in his eyes and to understand that I shouldn’t be standing here like this with him. But before I can move away, I hear my name called. Not my actual name, but the nickname that only one person has for me.
I turn to find Lucas walking toward us, his long legs eating up the sidewalk.
“Hey.” I smile, so happy to see him.
“I told you to wait for me.” He’s stopped in front of me now, but his eyes are on the person beside me.
“This is Grant,” I tell him. “He was going to take me home.”
He directs a hard look at Grant as he reaches for my hand. “Well, I’m here now. I can take my girlfriend home.”
I feel one of Grant’s hands still heavy on my shoulder. “If she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t leave her on her own in a bar. I took care of her, though.” His hand rubs my shoulder before releasing me. “You can count on me to be here when you’re not.”
I turn curious eyes on Grant, wondering if I heard him right. But he just smiles at me. “Good night, Raielle.” Then he goes back inside.
Lucas’s stormy gaze stays on the door for a moment before he begins moving us quickly down the sidewalk. I get the feeling he’s angry with me. “I’m sorry I forgot to meet you at the library.”
He says nothing in response. Silently, we walk along the quiet street with him pulling me by the hand. When we reach his truck, before I can get inside, he lifts me up and places me on the seat, shutting the door behind me.
It’s hard keeping my eyes open, but they follow him as he walks around and slides in on his side. He doesn’t say anything at first. The silence is heavy as he runs his hands through his hair. I watch the shiny locks slip through his long fingers. His eyes are dark when he turns them on me. “Have you ever been drunk before?” he finally asks.
I shake my head, and it feels like my brain is jiggling inside my skull.
He angles himself toward me. “Why did you drink tonight?”
&nb
sp; I shrug. “Are you mad at me?”
His concerned gaze travels over me. “No. I’m not mad at you.” He sighs and faces forward again. “Let’s go home.”
I lean my head back on the headrest, close my tired eyes, and correct him. “I don’t have a home.”
The low hum of the motor must have put me to sleep, because the next thing I know, Lucas is rummaging in my bag for the keys and then opening the door. “We won’t stay here,” he says quietly. “We’ll just get your stuff and go back to my apartment.”
I haven’t had a chance to tell him that Shane apologized, and we don’t have to feel chased off. But I’m too tired to form the words as I feel his arm wrap beneath my knees. He’s carrying me across the living room and into the bedroom.
“I can walk.” I laugh quietly at the way he keeps manhandling me, wondering if I’m really that far gone, or if he’s being annoyed and impatient. Screw him if it’s the latter, because I’m entitled to get drunk at least once in my life. The alcohol dulls my senses and my powers perfectly. But I’m not so wasted that I don’t understand how dangerous it would be to crave this feeling too much. I’ve seen how that works out.
Lucas’s strong arms jostle me as he pushes open the door to my bedroom. That’s when something occurs to me. Alcohol dulls my power. I can’t feel any energy burning inside me. This is the answer to my problem. We shouldn’t miss this opportunity.
A moment later, I’m set gently down on the bed. When Lucas starts to step away, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean up to kiss him. As our lips meet, I feel a familiar shiver go through me. It seems that being drunk off my ass doesn’t dull my reaction to him. If anything, it heightens it. Running my fingers through his hair, I pull him down to me, needing more of him. He groans when his arms wrap around me and his tongue slips into my mouth. This feels so good. I never want him to stop touching me this way, and kissing me so thoroughly. Reaching down, I begin to undo the button on his jeans. But his hand closes over mine, halting me.
“No,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “We can’t.”
He doesn’t understand. I lean back to look at him. “We can. Alcohol dulls my power. Now is the perfect time.”
His eyes search mine, and I can see he doesn’t get it.
“My energy,” I explain. “Alcohol lessens it. If we have sex now, I won’t be able to heal myself afterward. Please, Lucas. I want to.”
He continues to stare at me, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Then he starts to shake his head. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. He’s refusing me? Doesn’t he understand? I grab his face again and press my mouth on his. Even as the room starts to spin and a wave of nausea hits me, I continue to throw myself at him, clutching at his shirt, trying to pull it off. But he’s not cooperating.
“Stop, Ray,” he pleads, peeling my arms away.
His expression is resolute, and I can’t think of one good reason for him to say no. Why be a gentleman about this when I don’t want him to be? Unless he doesn’t want me. Maybe I’ve finally become too much for him to deal with. Maybe he spent the day regretting what we did last night.
I slump down onto the bed. “You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. I don’t see why you have to make a big deal about this.” I can feel the tears spilling from my eyes, and somewhere deep inside I know I’m making a fool of myself. That’s when the nausea hits again, and I clamp my hand over my mouth.
“I’m gonna be sick,” I mumble, brushing past him and dashing into the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before my stomach revolts against me. It’s only alcohol that comes up. I’ve hardly eaten today. I retch again and again, feeling completely miserable when Lucas’s hand pulls my hair away from my damp face and starts to rub my back.
“I’m disgusting,” I say and then moan. “Please go away.”
He chuckles behind me, but he doesn’t leave. “Been here. Done this. More than once. When you get it all up, you’ll feel better.”
In answer to that, I throw up again. Lucas is being attentive, and mortification over my behavior is starting to settle over me. I’m not sure how long we stay this way, but I’m exhausted by the time my stomach stops clenching.
“I’m sorry,” I say, wiping my mouth, groaning in misery as I sit back on the cool tile floor.
“For what?”
I stare down at the shiny swirls in the marble. “For throwing myself at you that way. To say I’m embarrassed would be a serious understatement.”
He laughs, reaching out to lay his hand over my thigh. “Don’t be embarrassed. Having you throw yourself at me is on my fantasy list.”
My ears perk up. “You have a fantasy list? A list of fantasies that include me?”
He rubs circles on my thigh with his thumb. “I do. And when we get around to working our way through it, I want you to remember.”
Feeling even worse, I glance away. “I only wanted…” Pausing, I try to find the right words. “I want to be with you again, but I don’t want you to be afraid of hurting me, and I don’t want to keep healing myself. What I want is to be normal. I mean, this is ridiculous, right? I’m ridiculous.”
Lucas’s arms come around me, and I can’t believe I’m losing it again in front of him after telling myself I was going to stop doing this. But his comfort helps. It always does, and I lean into him.
“Remember when we looked at the picture of us on your phone? Remember how you said it made you feel?” he asks.
When I don’t answer, he replies for me. “Special.”
“Special needs,” I mumble.
His chest vibrates with his soft laughter, and I can’t help it, I smile. “Thanks,” I say when he stills again.
“You’re welcome.” He turns his face to mine, and I clamp my hand over my mouth. “I really need to brush my teeth and take a shower—a long one.”
His eyes fill with amusement as he pulls us to our feet. “You sure you’re okay for a shower?”
I nod, spreading my arms out to show him how steady I am on my feet.
“Okay. You pass. Don’t be too long.” He grins. Then he looks at me for a long moment before walking out.
Even though Lucas is being understanding, I still feel flushed with embarrassment as I slowly peel off my clothes. Then I gulp down a glass of water before spending at least ten minutes brushing my teeth and rinsing with mouthwash. Starting to feel human again, but no less humiliated, I turn on the shower and wait for the water to warm before stepping beneath the spray. After scrubbing myself clean, I just stand there for a while with my eyes closed, letting the drops pelt me as my mind reluctantly wanders over the evening, cringing at most of it, and surprised to find I can’t remember all of it clearly.
When the shower door clicks, I turn, shocked to see Lucas standing there without a stitch of clothing on. My eyes travel down the length of his body, going back to his hand where he holds a condom between his fingers.
“I changed my mind,” he says, stepping inside.
I blink at him, surprised, feeling my skin flush under his hot gaze. “Why?” I ask.
He takes a step closer, letting the water hit him as his hand reaches out and brushes against my arm, causing my body to hum with awareness. “Because I want you, and I have an idea.”
I’m suddenly apprehensive, confused by the combination of lust and determination I see in his eyes. But I don’t have time to think about it before he closes the remaining distance and covers my mouth with his as his tongue immediately seeks mine. I feel his fingers running up my back to the nape of my neck. His other hand is at my hip, pulling me against him.
He begins to urge me backward toward the wall of the shower. When my skin comes in contact with the cold marble tile, he nudges my legs apart with his knees. My eyes widen in shock when he lifts me up, wrapping my legs around him. My breasts are level with his face, and his lips clamp down on one nipple. Pleasure swirls inside me as my arms reach up to tighten around his neck. He licks o
ver my other nipple, causing me to sigh and arch toward him.
Warm water cascades over us, and he presses me into the wall, supporting all my weight while he runs his tongue over my skin, making me crazy with want. I don’t know when or how he gets the condom on, but soon his eyes are burning into me, silently searching for something, maybe some cue that I’m ready.
I manage to pull in a quick breath of anticipation before he seals his lips to mine and pushes inside me. The pain is sharp again and I cry out, but he smothers the sound, his lips never leaving my mouth, and after a moment, he begins to move. The pain burns hot and only fades when he pulls out. But then he buries himself deep within me again and reaches a hand down to the place where our bodies meet, using his fingers to flood the hurt with a wave of desire. A soft moan escapes my lips, causing his other hand to grip me harder, digging into my skin as he takes control, grabbing hold of my hips and bringing me down on him in quick, successive movements.
There are no murmurs of sorry from him this time, no hesitance or fear of hurting me. I only feel his want and our need for each other overpowering everything else. He seems almost desperate, holding nothing back, and that fuels the fire inside me. My fingers fist in his hair, anchoring me as his rhythm spikes and the pressure builds.
He looks up suddenly, his eyes clashing with mine. Their intensity is devastating. When my climax rips through me, I cry out, clenching around him, tilting my head back into the wall as my muscles tighten. He groans and begins pulsing inside me. My eyes close as a sweet tension ripples through me, and I try to draw it out, feeling each sensation as it crests and wanes.
Listening to his ragged breathing, my grip on him begins to loosen, and I thread my fingers through his wet hair. The weight of his body pushes against mine as his head falls onto my shoulder. I’m exhausted and utterly boneless, like a rag doll in his arms.
My eyes flutter open when I feel him leaning back to turn off the water. “Keep your legs around me,” he says.
Still holding me, he wraps a towel around us and walks us into the bedroom. After drying me off, he lowers me onto the bed, follows me in, and pulls the comforter up over us. My body is still tingling, and I can hardly believe what we just did. I want nothing more than to enjoy the after part where we hold each other. But I’m stiff in his arms. I feel sober now, and I’m anticipating the worst.
