by Debra Doxer
He seems to understand. “By the end of tonight, I’m going to solve this. I promise,” he says against my ear.
Closing my eyes, I only nod. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I hope he’s right. My body is sated and after a time, I begin to relax. I start to think it may not happen as his steady breathing comforts me. But just as I’m falling asleep, the unwanted warmth begins to build low in my stomach. Tensing, my eyes pop open.
“Shh,” he says beside me as his hand moves down my body. I suck in a breath when I feel his fingers slipping between my legs. He begins a gentle massage and I curl toward him, pressing against his hand. When he shifts above me and slowly slides inside me, the energy threatening to spread is washed away by the growing tension. I’m still sore from the first time, but he manages to bring me to climax easily, whispering the sweetest words in my ear. I fall asleep in his arms, feeling cherished and loved.
When it happens again hours later, he’s there filling me, rocking gently, building the pressure slowly, and loving me so tenderly it brings tears to my eyes. I don’t know why my energy burst from me that first time or why the healing is starting on its own now. I only know that my power has gone haywire and Lucas’s remedy seems to be working.
By morning, he has accomplished what he set out to. He took control. He made my body surrender to him.
I’VE NEVER seen anything like the raw pain that filled Raielle’s eyes last night. She’s always so self-possessed and in control, but she completely lost it. Does the fact that I liked it make me an asshole? She was being real with me for a change and letting me see all the crap she usually buries. Even though it took God only knows how many drinks to make her open up, I got a glimpse inside. When she cried about wanting to be normal, I felt like I’d been slapped. She’s not normal, that’s true enough. But who the fuck cares? How can she not realize how amazing she is?
When she was in the shower last night, I sat out in the bedroom with her words playing over in my head, and I knew I had to show her how much I want her. I thought I’d already done that, but when I turned her down I could see all her insecurities showing through. She’s just waiting for me to get fed up and walk away. I think a part of her wants me to because she believes it’s inevitable anyway. But she has to understand that’s not happening.
I hand her a glass of water and a couple of aspirin, which she gratefully accepts. “Still good?” I ask, watching for any sign that her body wants to undo all my hard work.
“Yeah.” She laughs, looking embarrassed, and hugs the blanket to herself.
After everything we did last night, she still feels modest around me. She’s so fucking adorable.
I want to ask her how she ended up being drinking buddies with Shane, and who this Grant jackass is, but I don’t want to wreck the nice morning-after vibe we’ve got going. Besides, she wouldn’t have given Grant the time of day if she wasn’t drunk. The fact that he was about to take advantage of her condition when I walked up on them outside the bar tells me a lot about him, and none of it’s good.
“Let’s drive out to the beach,” I suggest. “It’s the weekend. We deserve a day to just chill and enjoy the California sunshine.”
Her smile brightens. “We can take the Porsche. The top rolls down.”
“When did you get your license?” I ask, realizing that the Porsche Apollo took the keys out of must have been hers.
She laughs ruefully. “I never did. My father somehow got me one. I’m a good driver, though, despite what all those speeding tickets say.”
I look at her, wondering if she’s serious. Then I picture her in it. “Do you have any idea how sexy the idea of you driving a Porsche is?” I ask.
“Is that on your fantasy list?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye.
“It is now.” I watch as she covers herself with a T-shirt and putters around the room, gathering her clothes.
“So what else is on this list? Is shower sex?” she asks, angling a look at me over her shoulder.
I grin at the way shower sex sounds falling from her lips. “Yup. Check.” I make an invisible checkmark in the air.
Shaking her head, she smiles. “Tell me another one.”
“Sorry.” I turn serious. “I can’t give you advance notice. That would lessen the impact.”
She rolls her eyes at me as she grabs her hairbrush off the dresser.
Suddenly, it gets to me, us just being together doing regular things like getting dressed, making plans for the day, flirting. I like it. I want more of it.
She’s about to head into the bathroom when she pauses and turns around to face me, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and furrowing her brow, making that little crease form on her forehead.
“About my drinking last night,” she begins. “I want you to know that I don’t plan on making a habit of it. I’m not going to be like my mother.”
I walk over to where she’s standing. “Everyone needs to blow off some steam sometimes. I didn’t read anything into it.” I know she’s the one who’s worried about turning into her mother.
She nods, seeming unsure.
I tap her on the nose. “Hey, it’s just you and me today. We’re going to forget everything else. Promise me.”
“I promise.” She smiles at me before disappearing inside the bathroom.
Once I hear the shower turn on, I’m tempted to join her, but I have something else I need to do. We hadn’t planned on spending the night here, but since we have, I’m taking this opportunity to talk to Shane.
Wandering out into the living room, I notice his bedroom door is shut. I knock loudly. Then I do it again until his muffled voice yells something from inside. A moment later, it swings open and he squints at me.
“What do you want? A rematch? Little sister and I talked. We’re good now.”
He’s only got sweats on, and his skinny chest is covered in strange swirling black tattoos, reminding me of wrought-iron gates. “I want to talk to you about something else. But we can cover yesterday, too.”
Shane smirks at me. “You know, I overheard what you two were up to last night, and as Raielle’s big brother, it’s my job to protect her innocence. So from now on, you’re going to need my permission to have sleepovers.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Were you born this full of shit?”
He laughs and edges past me, going into the kitchen. “Look, like I said, Raielle and I are good. Don’t say anything to me that’s going to fuck it up. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you again.”
I follow him. “Ray forgives too easily, and you weren’t the only one doing the hurting.”
His lips press together.
I’m standing across from him on the other side of the kitchen island. “If you or your friends talk about her again the way you did yesterday, we’re going to keep having problems.”
He throws me an amused look. “Problems?”
Laying my hands flat on the counter, I lean in toward him. “You think I’m kidding?”
He shrugs, backing away slightly. “I couldn’t care less, actually. I only know that what she did to me yesterday isn’t normal.”
The band around my chest tightens. Normal is exactly what Raielle wanted to be last night. Normalcy, and her lack of it, keeps getting thrown in her face. “Is there really no one like her?” I ask, getting to the reason why I knocked on his door in the first place, hoping he can answer me without being a complete wiseass.
He crosses his arms over his chest and studies me. He seems to be debating what he should say. Then his face relaxes and he goes back to hunting through the cabinets. “I don’t know of anyone like her. That’s the truth. Most of us are like me,” he says, shrugging, pulling a box of cereal down, “able to heal cuts, broken bones, some diseases that aren’t too severe, and that’s about it.”
I’m surprised that he’s just admitted he’s not that powerful.
“Others are like Grant. He can cure most anything, unless you’re at death’s door. Then he can trade y
our life for someone else’s. He can heal himself, too, which a lot of us can’t do. Now, my father, he’s a step above Grant. He doesn’t need someone to be hurt or sick for his power to kick in. He can shoot some energy into you at will, like a little charge just to make you feel good.”
“What about Ray?” I ask, wondering where she falls on his scale.
Shane scratches his chin as he answers. “She’s seems to be as strong as my father, only she’s had no training and hardly any experience. Raielle has more energy inside her than she can handle, and that’s dangerous. She’s too powerful to be so emotionally unstable.”
My eyes narrow. “She’s not emotionally unstable.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” he says indifferently.
I brush off my annoyance as worry pinches at me. “Can your father help her learn to control it or not?” I ask.
He throws some dry cereal into his mouth. “If it’s in his own interest to do it, he can, and I think it is. He’s getting older. Word is he’s slipping and can’t do as much as he used to. And if he can’t heal the tough cases anymore, he’s going to need her. If he wants her help, I’m betting he’ll have to help her in return.”
“Is he slipping?” I ask. I don’t bother telling him that she’ll take his help, but returning the favor is unlikely if I have anything to say about it.
Shane cackles as he pulls a carton of milk from the refrigerator and pours it into his bowl. “Like he’d ever admit it if he was. But I know the money isn’t coming in like it used to. Since my dad’s a greedy son of a bitch, I don’t think he’s cutting back his caseload on purpose.”
The ripple of dislike I have for her father starts to multiply and spread. I wonder if he needs her more than she needs him. “Do you think your father would ever hurt her?” I ask.
He glances up at me, surprised at my question. But then the smirk appears. “No more than anyone else has.” He takes the cereal bowl, walks past me, and disappears inside his room.
His answers do nothing to ease my worries; they have the opposite effect. Shane doesn’t hold much affection for his father. You can see it on his face, in the grimace he wears when he talks about him. But it’s hard to know what to believe with him or anyone else she’s got around her right now.
I’m about to go back to the bedroom to see if Raielle is ready when two things happen at once. She appears, stepping out of the room in a light blue sundress that hugs her slim body and matches the necklace I gave her, and the front door bursts open as two big guys in suits come barging in, saying something about a lockdown. One of them has long black hair touching the top of his wide shoulders. The other one has a shiny bald head, and they’re both eyeing Raielle.
I move toward her as my pulse rate rockets, but when Shane appears in his doorway, looking completely bored and saying, “Not again,” I go from alert to suspicious.
“Let’s go,” the bald one says. “Your father wants everyone at the house.”
“What’s going on?” Raielle asks.
“Every few months, Dad claims there’s some kind of threat. So he calls us all to the house where we have to stay until he decides it’s safe for us to leave.”
“What kind of threat?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, you know. The usual paranoid crap he’s always going on about. Honestly, I think he’s just lonely because he has no friends.”
I look at the Men In Black wannabes. “So, there is no threat?”
Shane gets my attention back when he points to his head and makes tiny circles with his finger. “The old man is losing it. Getting high on his own juice a little too often. Didn’t anyone tell you? Zap yourself too many times and it turns you loony tunes. Take that as a warning, kids,” he says, aiming his finger at Raielle.
I reach for her hand. “Look,” I say to the two guys filling the entryway, “is there a real threat or not?”
The bald one looks at me. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. One way or another, I have to get you to the house.” He pauses. “Now.”
“Is everyone getting a personal escort?” Raielle asks, and their impatience grows.
“No. You kids are special.” The dark-haired one smiles tightly at her, and she edges closer to me.
“It’s no use,” Shane says, pulling a shirt over his head. “It’s easier to go with them, enjoy the buffet and socialize for a few hours, until his control-freak moment is over and he lets us leave.”
“Buffet?” Raielle asks, as if she couldn’t have heard him right.
He nods. “Nyla always puts together a good spread for these things.”
She starts to laugh. “So, we’re being forcibly escorted to breakfast?”
Shane glances at his watch. “Actually, it’s brunch.”
I release a frustrated breath. For once, I’d like to make plans with Raielle that don’t get all fucked up. “Should I stage a revolt?” I ask hopefully, not wanting to go along with this.
She shakes her head. “Let’s just go with them. I need to talk to my father anyway.”
WE’VE MET a lot of people since we’ve been here, and I can’t remember all their names, but I know they’re healers and they work with my father. They all seem to know me, and they’re either wary of me or way too enthusiastic to meet me. Both reactions rub me the wrong way and make me uncomfortable.
Charlie and Grant are here, too. For some reason, Lucas stiffens and looks angry every time Grant talks to me. Since I probably look much the same every time Charlie throws a flirty glance Lucas’s way, this is as far as we could get from the relaxing beach day we’d planned.
The room buzzes with conversation. It’s interesting that most of the healers here are young like us. I wonder why there are no older ones. There must be older healers.
Shane is camped out in the corner with his own group of friends that he introduced to us when we first got here. There’s Christopher with his blond faux-hawk and skinny jeans. Next to him is Jenna, a full-figured petite girl whose chest is getting most of Christopher’s attention. Silently pacing behind them is a tall, willowy brunette who has barely spoken a word or cracked a smile all day. I’ve already forgotten her name.
It’s been nearly three hours. There’s no sign of my father, and I still want to talk to him. Lucas and I are sitting in a window seat inside the large living room. A deck of cards lies between us. He’s been trying to teach me to play poker, but so far, I suck at it. My mind keeps wandering. I can’t stop thinking about last night. It feels like I have a permanent blush on my face. The closeness I feel to Lucas, and the way we’re attuned to each other, is making it hard to concentrate on anything but him.
Lucas is dealing out the cards again when raised voices catch our attention. Shane and Christopher seem to be arguing. Lucas pauses with a card in his hand and one of his eyebrows quirks up as he eavesdrops.
“Shut the fuck up,” Shane snaps. “You don’t know shit about her.”
I watch them covertly, hoping they’re not talking about me, as Christopher straightens in his chair, preparing to lob a comment back. “Neither do you. From what I can see, you don’t know shit about anything.”
I glance at Shane to see his reaction, but to my surprise he just chuckles. “I guess that’s why you asked me to hook you up last week. Because I don’t know shit about anything. Including the phone number that blonde told me to give you.”
Shane is slurring his words. He and his friends must be drinking, although I haven’t seen any alcohol around.
Christopher’s eyes widen. “You serious, dude?”
Shane just stares at him.
“Come on,” he pleads. “I was kidding around. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Exhaling dramatically, Shane says, “Be nicer to me or I may have to cut you off.”
“But I need to hear what’s on the rest of that tool’s fantasy list,” Christopher whispers loudly. “Oh wait, I forgot. No advance notice.” He bends over with laughter. “That shit was too funny.”
Luca
s’s gaze clashes with mine. I watch as his expression hardens and his eyes ice over.
“Shh,” Shane warns before he starts cracking up.
Lucas turns and Shane notices, averting his gaze, becoming overly interested in a painting on the wall.
Slowly getting to his feet, Lucas walks toward them. He seems to have the attention of everyone in the room. A wave of panic hits me, and I wonder if Shane’s friends will come to his aid when Lucas makes good on the threat in his eyes.
“What are you two chatting about over here?” Lucas asks, keeping his voice low.
Shane looks up at him. “The weather, mostly.”
Lucas’s shoulders tense. “Have you been spying on us, you pervert?”
“Fuck,” Christopher mutters.
Boldly, Shane faces Lucas. “Why would I want to spy on you? You’re not that interesting.” Then he turns to Christopher. “That’s right, Ray. Now, baby,” he says in a breathless falsetto voice that sends Christopher into juvenile giggles.
My mouth falls open. Lucas grabs Shane by the front of his shirt and pushes him up against the wall. “Just when I thought you might be decent, you turn around and show me what a little bitch you really are.”
Rather than helping Shane, Christopher and the rest of their group back away. I get to my feet as my hands curl into tight, nervous fists. From the corner of my eye, I spot Grant with a couple of friends he’s been talking to most of the day. They start trying to calm Lucas down. A part of me is hoping Lucas will punch Shane when the room grows quiet, and I see heads turning toward the door.
“Raielle, could you come with me please,” Nyla says. Then her gaze goes to Lucas, still holding Shane by his shirt collar. Her eyes widen. “Is there a problem here?”
Grant clears his throat. “It seems Shane is still hiding cell phones in people’s rooms and spying on them.”
