Destiny's Touch (The Complex Book 0)

by Jane Hinchey

  "I work at UniFinance."

  "So you're an...accountant?" He didn't strike me as the accounting type.

  He nodded. "Yes."

  "You're not army? The way you move, I could have sworn you'd had military training."

  "No."

  I could taste his lie. It hung in the air between us, thick and heavy. Why would he lie about such a thing? It didn't matter to me if he'd been a soldier or fought in the war.

  "Come on." Breaking the silence, he jumped to his feet and tugged me up. "Let's explore the jungle. I haven't been in here before."

  Deciding to let all my worries go, and content to be among the tall trees and lush plants, I let him lead me into the jungle.

  We sat opposite each other in a restaurant that evening after a day spent exploring the jungle. I hadn't enjoyed myself so much in a long time. Relaxed, I sipped my wine and smiled at the handsome man opposite me.

  "Thank you for today," I said.

  "You're welcome. And you should do that more often."

  I paused with my glass halfway to my lips. "Do what?"

  "Smile. You're beautiful when you smile."

  "So I'm not beautiful otherwise?" I teased.

  He smirked. "Oh, no, you're stunning. Full stop. But when you smile, you light up from the inside out. You glow. It makes me want to make you smile every day."

  I felt a blush heat my cheeks. Was he flirting? I was so out of practice, I couldn't really be sure. I'd had lovers in the past, but they were small rebellions against my family—mostly poor choices and one night stands. It was a little sad that now I couldn't tell if a guy was genuinely flirting with me or just being nice.

  "What are you thinking about?" he asked. My blush darkened. He chuckled, reaching across the table and brushing his fingers across my cheek. "If it's what I think it is...it's mutual," he murmured.

  "It is?" I squeaked.

  "I like you," he confirmed, his thumb tracing my lower lip in an intimate caress. "I want to get to know you better. A whole lot better."

  "Hey! Emilea Shepard."

  A loud brash voice intruded, and I pulled back from Maddax's touch. I frowned at the young man standing by our table. He was angled toward me, ignoring Maddax altogether.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "I've got a message for you." He dropped to his haunches and leaned toward me. "The Humans First group wants to meet with you. We’ve heard about your skills."

  "My skills?" I frowned, puzzled.

  "Fighting skills. We're looking for someone to train us. You could be that person. Think about it." He slid a card across the table and then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he walked away.

  I watched him leave before picking up the card. On it was scrawled an address, date, and time.

  "Who are the Humans First group?" I asked Maddax.

  "A faction protesting against the Complex and what it stands for," he explained. "They believe humans and Metas are better off apart and can never live together in harmony. There have been a handful of riots they say were instigated by the Humans First movement."

  "Why haven't I heard of this before now?" God, was I so removed from life around me that I didn't know what was happening on my own doorstep. I'd never felt so isolated.

  Maddax shrugged. "I'm surprised you haven't, given the illegal fighting ring you're a part of."

  I bristled at his words. "You're a part of it, too," I pointed out.

  He nodded. "True. And we shouldn't be talking about this here." He glanced around, eyeing the patrons near us. He was right. You never knew who could be listening.

  "Let's get out of here." Rising, he grabbed my hand, lacing my fingers with his.

  He stopped to pay, then led me outside, into the night. The planet Lorn only had four hours of darkness, so beyond the Complex, it wasn’t yet night, but the Complex had been designed to deliver twelve hours of daylight and twelve hours of darkness. Not only to accommodate humans, but also the nocturnal Metas.

  The heat of Maddax’s palm against mine was delicious, and I cast my mind back to the last time anyone had touched me this way. It pained me to admit that I couldn't recall anything beyond my childhood, when my mother had often held my hand. But not in the way Maddax was now, with our fingers interlocked, which was infinitely more intimate than a mother clasping her child's hand. I liked it.

  We walked leisurely back to my housing dome. Maddax rode the fasttrans up to my floor with me, and I was nervous about what would happen next. Should I invite him in? I opened my door and stepped inside, then turned, surprised when Maddax stopped at my doorstep. I arched a brow.

  "There's nothing I would like more than to come inside tonight, but if I do, I don’t think I’ll leave until morning." His voice was a deep rumble. I melted. Reaching out, I cupped his face in my hands and pulled his head down to mine.

  His kiss was everything I'd imagined and more. He let me lead at first, angling his head to accommodate me and opening his mouth at the brush of my tongue. But then he took over, the male power of him washing over me, turning my knees to jelly and amplifying the tingling between my thighs tenfold. When he pulled me tight against him, I could feel his erection trapped between us.

  I wanted him. Now.

  "Wait." He pulled back, gulping in a breath of air. Now it was his turn to clasp my face in his palms. "Wait," he whispered, resting his forehead against mine.

  "You want me. I want you. Why wait?" My voice was low and sultry. I shivered at the need I heard in it.

  He nodded. "You're right. I do want you, in the worst possible way. But I also want this to be special. I don't want to be another one night stand. I want more."

  Another one night stand? So he knew my reputation. My cheeks burned with shame.

  "We have time, Emilea. Let's enjoy it. I want to make you burn. A slow, smoldering burn that will bring you to your knees, until I'm all you think about, all you want, all you desire. You will be mine. You can bet on it." He pressed a hard kiss against my mouth, and then he was gone, leaving me to sag against the doorframe until I was sure my legs would hold my weight.

  I'd never had a man tell me no before, and while Maddax hadn't exactly denied me, he was making me wait, which made me want him all the more. Was that part of his plan? Was this a game to him? I didn't care. In this moment, I was happy to play along, because he was right. We didn't need to rush.

  A slow burn sounded...delicious.

  I decided to check out the Humans First get-together. I wasn't sure I wanted to be involved in their rebellion, but the idea of training others in self-defense and combat appealed to me. It was something I loved to do, and it would help me pass my time here at the Complex.

  What I hadn't expected was a full-on rally. A crowd of more than a hundred had gathered at their meeting place outside Uni Flora Obscura, joining in the chant by the black clad rebels. I stood on the fringe and watched, frowning when the humans deliberately shoved any Metas who happened to walk by. Some of the Metas stopped and pushed back. This was going to get ugly. Was this what the rebellion was about? To intentionally cause unrest? In my mind, I'd imagined peaceful rallies—not an attempt to provoke the Metas into a confrontation.

  No. This wasn't for me. I didn’t want to be involved in this. Stepping back, I bumped into someone and turned to apologize. A huge Meta frowned down at me, his fingers curling into a fist.

  Uh oh.

  "Intra!" someone shouted, and the crowd started to disperse, including the Meta who'd been thinking about hitting me. But at the core of the rally, the confrontation had gotten too heated, too intense, for either party to back down. Three Metas stood toe to toe with five humans. My senses were tingling, going into overdrive. A strange awareness rushed through me, from my toes to the top of my head, a vibrating and buzzing that was part disarming, part welcoming. And totally unfamiliar.

  I didn't know what was happening to me, but changes were afoot and I had no clue what to do about it. My thoughts about my own situation were thrown ou
t of my head when I was shoved into the group, bouncing off the back of one of the Metas. He turned and backhanded me across the face before I could dart away. My ears rang as the crowd erupted around me. The Meta’s attack on me had trigged a full blown fight. Fists were flying in every direction.

  Ducking, I managed to extricate myself and dart around the scuffling bodies until I made it safely into a nearby Uni Cafe. The Intra arrived, tasing anyone who was still brawling, then cuffing them while they were down. Backing away from the window, I settled into a booth at the back of the shop, hunching down until all the drama out front was over and it was safe for me to leave.

  "Emilea, you've brought disgrace to the Shepard name." My father's voice was as cold as steel. But then again, it usually was whenever he was forced to speak with me.

  I watched his hologram, detached. He'd seen the footage from today's brawl; all the Presidents had. I daresay President Clifton had immediately contacted my father when I was identified as a participant.

  "I wasn't involved, Father." I didn't know why I bothered to defend myself. He'd already judged me guilty.

  He raised his hand to cut me off. "Quiet. Do not speak to me!"

  I sighed at his dramatics.

  "I had thought time in the Complex would be good for you, that it would teach you restraint and respect. I was wrong. You refuse to be taught. You've left me no other choice." He was animated now, almost gleeful, and I knew we were getting to the crux of the call. "You are no longer a member of this family. I disavow you."

  Ah. I should have known. His words didn't surprise me in the least; he'd been trying to oust me from the family since the day I was born. I was different, and he couldn't handle it. I knew he was expecting me to argue, to plead, but I had no more desire to be tied to him and his precious family name than he did to me.

  "If that is what you wish." I dropped the word father.

  He noticed. "Your mother would be so disappointed in you."

  "I don't think so. She instilled in me a drive to follow my own path, to do what I thought was right, to stand on my own two feet. You’re the one she would be disappointed in. The way you’ve treated me—turned your back on your only daughter. She would be ashamed."

  He jerked as if I had struck him. In all the arguments I'd had with him, I'd never used my relationship with my mother against him. He rallied, straightening his shoulders, his face emotionless.

  "Your accommodation at the Complex is paid for. You may continue to live there," he said. "But you will no longer have access to the family funds. You will be removed from all legal documents. Any attempt on your behalf to contact me or your brother will be blocked. You are dead to us."

  I shrugged. The money had never mattered to me. Plus, I would have what was owed to me for participating in the Complex experiment. They'd insisted I set up my own account, so that my money couldn't be paid into a family trust. For the first time in my life, I had my own funds—and the money I'd been earning from the fights. It also meant the restrictions barring me from finding work in the Complex would be lifted.

  Maybe I could finally have a life. I smiled.

  My reaction infuriated my father. His control slipped, the rage in him pulsing out at me. He called me cruel and unkind names. Then he turned his wrath on my mother, and my own control unraveled in spectacular fashion. My whole body hummed and vibrated—and then flame burst from my hands, shooting across the room, destroying everything in its path. With a gasp, I clapped my hand over my mouth.

  "What was that?" he asked, his voice tight. "Was that magic?"

  Before I could answer, he went on, the words running into each other, "I knew it. Knew you couldn't have been of my blood. Pure blood. Noble blood. I knew your mother must have cheated to produce you. Now I have the proof!"

  I couldn't listen to his vile accusations anymore. I terminated the call. Never in my life had I hung up on my father, but considering he'd just booted me from the family, I figured it was due.

  Blowing out a breath, I looked at the overturned furniture and scorch marks on the rug. Had it been magic? The flames had burned the rug, but nothing had actually caught fire. No—the flame had worked as a kind of force field, a wave of energy, and now that I'd released it, I felt better. More in control. No longer shaking.

  I felt...peaceful.

  After righting the furniture, I sank down onto the lounge and thought about the conversation with my father. I wouldn't miss him. But I'd miss my little brother, even though our relationship hadn't been friendly for the last few years.

  I was dancing around the elephant in the room. The power I'd just unleashed. I wasn't ready to face it yet.

  My apartment’s AI bleeped and informed me that Maddax was at the door. Without rising, I instructed the door to open.

  He walked in, took one look at the chaos, and rushed to my side. "What happened?"

  "I was arguing with my father, who, by the way, is no longer my father," I told him. "He disowned me. Then I just sort of exploded with energy. I was shaking and then, whoosh! It came flying out of my hands. It tipped all the furniture over and burned the carpet. Father accused me of magic." My words came out in a rush, my hands twisting in my lap. I had no idea if what had just happened was a good thing or bad.

  Maddax's expression was unreadable, and I took it to mean it was a bad thing. My anxiety crept up a notch.

  "I need to come clean with you," he finally said.

  Oh no. Now what? Just when I thought someone had my back, was he against me, too? Had father sent him?

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "I knew the minute I looked into your eyes that you weren't human," he admitted.

  Okay. I frowned. That wasn't what I had been expecting. "Because my eyes are different colors?"

  He shook his head. "No. Like you, I sense people. I can usually determine who's human and who's Meta. With you, I wasn't sure, not at first. But now, I'm feeling something very strong coming from you. You've changed."

  "Changed." I thought back to the fight with him, when our skin had touched and I'd tasted his blood and seen the blonde woman for the first time. "How? How could that happen?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. Some sort of trigger. Could be age related. How old are you?"

  "Twenty-four."

  "Not coming of age, then. I'd have expected a manifestation of powers between eighteen and twenty-one."

  "Not age, then," I agreed. "What do you think I am?"

  "Not sure. Maybe a witch? Fairy? Fae? You have some form of magic—or power—but I'm not sure what you are."

  "And this doesn't freak you out?" I asked.

  He looked genuinely puzzled. "Why should it?"

  "Because when we met, I was a human girl. Now I'm something else." I rubbed at my forehead, an ache forming behind my eyes. "Christ, even I can't believe it."

  "Has anything else happened?"

  "Well, I have been seeing an image of a blonde woman. She’s young, with a braid over her shoulder. She looks a little like me. And there's this." I stood, tugging my tunic over my head. The dressing from my shoulder was gone. I was fully healed.

  "Well," he muttered, rising to his feet and brushing his fingers across the flesh of my shoulder. Goosebumps followed the path his fingers travelled, down my arm to wrap around my hand and squeeze. I squeezed back.

  "You're so beautiful," he murmured, shuffling closer until his body was just touching mine.

  Each breath caused my breasts to brush against him in a tantalizing rhythm. His nearness heated my blood and his touch unraveled my control. I was no longer interested in talking about my changes. I wanted him. Now.

  "You're overdressed," I replied, my fingers reaching for his tunic and tugging.

  He took the hint, pulling the shirt over his head. What started out as a slow exploration of his body soon took off like wildfire. My fingers danced over his skin while he grasped my hips and pulled me in tight. I led him into the bedroom, kicking off my pants as I went. I crawled onto the mattr
ess and smiled at him, beckoning with my finger. Come get me.

  He practically dove onto me, slamming his mouth against mine, thrusting his tongue deep and taking everything. I met him with a thrust of my own. He trapped my bottom lip between his own, sucking on it as he drew away, then lowered his head to suckle at my nipples, to flick his tongue back and forth, back and forth, before pausing to bite gently, then soothe with his tongue. My nails dug into his scalp, holding him where he was. I couldn't decide what to do with my legs. My knees rubbed against his hips. Giving in, I planted my feet on the mattress and arched up, pressing my core against his erection. The increase of pleasure was almost too much, and yet, it wasn't even close to being enough.

  "Maddax," I groaned. "Now."

  "Soon." He cupped me between my legs and purred his approval. "So wet, baby." He teased me with a finger, and as I rode it, grinding down, he fed me another. My head thrashed from side to side. I was high on passion, lost in sensation, so close to the edge. He backed off...brought me close...then backed off again.

  "Maddax!" My voice was a scream, loud and needy.

  "How badly to you want it?" he teased, stretching me with a third finger. "Does it hurt?"

  "In a good way. I need you," I pleaded.

  He slid his fingers out of me and we both moaned at the loss. He moved between my legs, and, hooking his arms beneath my knees, he lifted me, positioning himself. He leaned over me, kissed me deep. I was lost, lost in him. He pushed. One inch. Then another. I opened for him, my muscles clenching around him.

  "Okay?" Panting, he paused. Didn't want to hurt me.

  "So good," I gasped, rocking my hips, taking him deeper.

  He thrust the rest of the way in, hard and fast, and I shattered around him, arching my back and screaming his name. He kept moving—in, out, in, out. I thought I was done, but I could feel another orgasm building. My breath hitched in my throat, and he moved harder, faster. Never had I been so overwhelmed, so overcome, that only pleasure mattered.