by Jaime Rush
“You’d be okay with a kiss then?” Hell. “Forget I said that.” He swiped her keys from the table. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m part of this now. I know you don’t want me hurt, but you’ve no choice. I’m making that decision. My life, my choice. As much as you hate that, I see in your eyes that part of you wants it.”
“You’re wrong. Not one tiny part of me wants you involved.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not alone anymore, Jess. See, when I said that, your eyes gave you away. They went mushy. You’ve been alone a long time. Fighting, lying, hiding all by yourself. No one should have to endure that. I’m not letting you fight alone. I may be a lot of things, and I’m sure you have a few choice words in mind right now, but I’m not a man who can let a woman go off and face a man/beast by herself. I’ve got more expletives for myself than you do, guaranteed. If it makes you feel good, go ahead and let some loose.”
He saw the moment she gave in. Her shoulders sagged and she released a soft if agonized breath.
“You didn’t see me get mushy. I like being alone.”
“Of course.”
“I’m only staying because you’re a pushy brute.”
“Right. Now, let’s go into the studio and work on your Darkness. You need to master it, and I’m the one person you can practice with. I can handle it.” He gestured toward himself, then remembered his state of dress. Or undress, as it were. “When I get clothes on, that is.”
Her expression fell. “No.”
“You don’t want me to get dressed? It’s only proper—”
“Lachlan, you make me crazy.” She pressed her palms to her temple. “You want me to Become? On purpose?”
“How are you going to learn to do what Russell can if you’re afraid of it? You have an incredible power inside you. Use it.”
That power sparked in her eyes, tightened her mouth in a determined line. She turned all of that on him. “Only if you tell me what you are.”
She was agreeing. He grabbed onto that, and only a second later realized the price. “What do you mean?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What makes the magic, the arc of electricity?
Chapter 9
Russell hated knocking on the door of a place where he was unwelcome, especially when he’d chartered a flight all the way out to Arizona. His efforts wouldn’t be appreciated. He hoped to wear the boy down. Well, “boy” wasn’t accurate. Julian was twenty-seven, not the twelve-year-old he left behind when he’d “died.”
Julian yanked the door open, obviously having seen him through the peephole. His dark blue eyes were narrowed, the shadowy expression reminding him of the sulky boy he’d been so many years ago.
“You’re here,” Russell said, hearing relief saturate his voice.
Julian had been his first stop when he got out of prison, even before beginning to search for Jessie. His son. He’d ascertained that the men he asked to take care of him had done a good job.
“What do you want?” Julian’s hard gaze raked over him, obviously still not used to the way he looked now.
“Your help. Can I come in?”
He didn’t budge from the door opening. “Speak your piece.”
At least he hadn’t shut the door in his face, though it was clear by the tension around Julian’s mouth that he wanted to.
“Do you really want me to talk out here where others can hear?”
Julian glanced around, seeing the open window of the apartment next door. After a second’s pause, he stepped aside. “You have one minute.”
Russell looked around the space: built-in bookcases crammed with books, drapes drawn against the midday sun, splashing a bloodred hue over the room. Julian was still corded with muscle, oddly enough, bringing back the image of the boy again. Julian had started building his strength, whipping through his homework so he could lift weights, running for hours, as though he could tame Darkness with physical strength. Obviously he was still playing at that game, but now he saw only resignation in his son’s eyes, the color of a chip of a frozen blue sea.
“Your anger, it’s over your mother still?” Julian had shut him out that first time he came to see him. Now Russell needed to resolve this issue, needed to reunite with his son.
Julian leaned against the back of the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest like a shield. He didn’t need it. The anger set in his features, and the bulging muscles of his arms were shield enough. “Her murder didn’t just go away.”
“I have explained all that to you. It was an accident. The courts even said so. She tripped and fell off the cliff.”
“But you and I know different.”
It was unfortunate that the boy witnessed it. Russell kept his voice gentle, conciliatory. “She cheated on me. It was a harsh way for you to learn about Darkness and how it reacts to such violations. Perhaps now I could control it, but not then. Not when I was young and in love.”
“Yeah, thanks for passing that on to me.”
He had seen his son’s Darkness. He had incited it himself, having this very discussion. “Surely you can’t blame me for that. I didn’t know it could be inherited.”
Julian laughed, or what could possibly pass as a laugh, without a smile or light in his eyes. “I don’t blame you. I merely hate you.”
“But Darkness is not a bad thing, Julian.”
“Not a ‘bad thing’? That I can’t ever be with a woman for fear of Becoming a monster and tossing her off a cliff or worse? That I’ve got a temper that overcomes me?” He pointed to a gash in the wall.
“You just have to learn to control it. That will come with time. I can help.” He put his hand on Julian’s shoulder, but his son flinched away. “Think about it. You and I, working together. A team.”
“Like hell. You’re too busy chasing down some woman to be a member of a team.”
Russell gritted his teeth. “You have never loved, or you would understand. When we love, it consumes us. Like a fire within. Once I have my love by my side, I will be stronger, more stable. Until then I’m no good to you or anyone. I am distracted. I know what it is to have a goal, to put everything on the line for the greater good. My brother and I did that, but we failed. You think me dark, vile, and weak. I am none of those things. Let me show you. Torus has done a good job raising you, but you haven’t had a real father in your life since you were twelve. Let me in. I’ll never abandon you, Julian. Never again.”
Julian’s eyes softened at that. A boy needs a father, he thought, even a boy of twenty-seven. He had lost so much, first his mother in a violent way, and then his innocence, and then his father. He had gone through much before Torus and his men had taken him in. Russell knew the Callorians. They suppressed their emotions, their passions. They would have taken care of Julian, but had he known a connection?
He pressed on. “I need your help. This is where we work together, just you and me. There is a woman, a very troublesome woman, and a man. They are in the way of my accomplishing my heart’s desire. Other than reuniting with my son, this goal is the most important thing to me.”
Julian’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t understand this obsession you have for a woman.”
“Someday you will, Julian. I promise you will, and you’ll—”
“No, I won’t. I will never let a woman push me to mindless violence, or to this weakness I see in you. I don’t see the purpose in emotions.”
Torus had trained him well. The boy was hardened, but was he beyond hope? “They have tricked you into thinking that way about emotions. They can be incredible, exhilarating. Let me teach you to master your abilities. Let me be your father.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Not an outright rejection at least. Russell let out a breath of disappointment. He’d hoped to snag him now. “Think about us, working together. Harnessing your power. And think about changing the world, Julian. Inside you is a beast, and it can do amazing things.”
He walked away, tr
ying not to look back and see if his son was watching him. It would only be another disappointment. He got into the rental car and pulled up the newspaper article on his phone, staring at the girl who kept him from achieving his goal.
“Jessie.” The word had come out as a growl.
He spotted another link on the page of the carnival story and clicked on it. He read the related story about the girl who was benefiting from the carnival. Jessie’s name was only mentioned once. But it was a very interesting mention indeed.
Chapter 10
Lachlan had brushed off his part of the bargain, but Jessie wasn’t letting him off the hook. He went to get dressed, and she went to her car to sort through the clothes she’d packed, consolidating what she’d need for her enforced stay. Lord, him standing in his briefs telling her she wasn’t alone anymore, seeing her need. She could have melted into a puddle. Okay, she’d liked the sound of being Magnus’s girl when Lachlan first assumed it, the idea of belonging to someone like that Jackson Brown song of years ago, “Somebody’s Baby.”
I can’t believe I told him I wanted to kiss him. That was brilliant. Never gonna happen.
No, Lachlan would never let a kiss, or anything else, happen. He already hated himself, and no matter that she wasn’t Magnus’s girl, he would only see her as that.
She grabbed up three bags and turned, letting out a scream. “Ohmigod, you startled me.”
“Sorry.” Lachlan held out one hand to take her load. “Didn’t want you out here by yourself.”
She nodded toward the sword he held in his other hand. “You’re doing an admirable job of protecting me.”
He grunted. “I’m not looking for a pat on the head. Like you said about donating bone marrow, it’s just the right thing to do.”
He waited for her to walk in front of him, then stepped up beside her. His jersey pants rode low on his hips, and the white T-shirt clung to his shoulders.
“It wasn’t the right thing to do, though. I’m scared to death I’m going to get a call from her someday telling me she turned into a horrible creature.”
“Like with Magnus, you saved her life at a cost.”
“Yeah, but neither of them got to make that choice. It’s not like I could tell her. Besides, I was her last hope. She probably would have said yes anyway. As you know, when you’re desperate, you’ll take any lifeline. I only hope she doesn’t get it.”
“The Darkness seems to be a form in itself, not attached to your blood or body. You used Darkness to heal Magnus, but not Hayley. I think she’ll be okay.”
The irony of Lachlan was, he thought he was a terrible person, but he showed his heart, his goodness.
Once inside the house, they turned left and went into the room she’d be using.
“I’ll bring in the cooler,” he said, setting the bags inside the door.
“I’m going to change into something I can work out in. Meet you there.”
Her penguin. Penny looked as bedraggled as Jessie felt. She tucked the stuffed animal into her bag where she could see it, then dug through another bag and found black yoga pants and a Spandex workout top. She threw on the matching jacket, tucked her feet into sneakers, and found Lachlan waiting by the door. They made another trip to the garage, this time bringing everything to the kitchen. It felt oddly domestic, unpacking bags of food, putting things away together . . . too much like she was moving in.
You’ll be packing up here, too, before long.
She changed her dark thoughts. “This kitchen rocks. I love the red glossy tiles and black cabinets.”
The countertops were gray slate, and all the appliances were stainless steel. It was shaped around the corner of the house.
“‘Rocks’?”
“Yeah. It’s cool.”
“Ah. Groovy.”
“You don’t really keep up with the outside world much, do you? I’ll bet you don’t Tweet or Facebook or anything.”
“There was a time I lived on the computer. I socialized there.” He left it at that, and she quelled her inclination to probe as to exactly how he was socializing. “Not anymore. I pick up a magazine once in a while, but I let the satellite dish subscription go a while back, and no, I’ve never been on Facebook.”
Not that she had a page herself. No one to keep up with, no one to friend. She unpacked her cooler. “I’m making lunch from my food. You haven’t descended to bread and water, but it’s not far from it.”
“I wasn’t exactly expecting guests. Speaking of food, you never did get to eat this morning.”
She tugged grapes off a bunch before putting them in the fridge. “I’m not hungry now.” Thinking about why they’d missed their snack, and what he wanted her to do next, shriveled her appetite.
“How about a coffee?”
“Mm, you tempt me.” She turned and met his eyes at that. Oh, boy. A spark of electricity seemed to arc between them, not unlike that weird magic of his.
“I can make you a latte, if I remember how Mum did it. She was the coffee fiend in the family.” He pressed a button on a square machine that was tucked into a corner of the kitchen and it whirred to life.
She felt her body move toward it automatically. “Is that a—”
“Espresso machine. That’s what she called it anyway. Mm, she had the same look on her face as you do when Dad gave it to her for Christmas.”
She was probably doing everything but drooling, and wiped her mouth just in case. “Lucky. You can have a latte every day, whenever you want, without paying five dollars and eighty-two cents.” The thought of it brought moisture to her eyes.
He held up a jug of milk. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She put her hand to her chest. “I would ohmigod love a latte.”
He got out a mondo mug from the upper cabinet and then the little pot and pitcher, grinning the whole time. Amused by her, yes, but damn if she cared. It transformed his face and created smile lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth.
“Mum put a spoonful of sugar in the milk and five drops of French vanilla.”
“Perfect.”
As he went through the steaming process, she imagined him wearing only one of those barista aprons and briefs, which unfortunately wasn’t a big stretch of her imagination.
“Mm, Heaven.” He turned around, and she added, “The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Nothing like it.”
A minute later he handed her a steaming mug.
She wrapped her hands around it and inhaled. “How’d you know I like lattes?”
“Maybe I’m a mind reader.”
She took a sip. “This is so good I could faint.”
He pulled out a knife from the butcher block, flipped it handle out, and handed it to her.
She blinked, staring at it. “You want me to stab you?”
“Cut my hair.”
“Why? It’s beautiful.”
“Reason one. I don’t want ‘beautiful’ hair. I’ve let it go, like everything else in my life, these last months. It didn’t matter before.”
She hid her smile as she took another sip. “But now you want to impress me.”
“Why would I need to do anything more? I swept you off your feet at our first meeting.”
“As I recall, I swept you off your feet.”
He nodded. “Knocked me on my arse, you did.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, making her stomach jump.
He pulled his hair back. “Reason two: it gets in the way when I’m fighting. And gives the enemy something to grab onto.”
“Okay, first of all, you don’t cut hair with a knife.” She waved it away. “Scissors are better.”
He reached into a drawer and produced a pair of silver scissors.
She didn’t take them. “You know, the salon near the music store was having a ‘Locks of Love’ promotion last week. That’s the organization that provides wigs for kids who have conditions where they lose their hair. You get a free cut and style when you donate the hair. Good cut, good cause, good price.
”
He set the scissors down. “But I’m not after some fancy cut.”
“No, you wouldn’t be.” She tilted her head, studying him. He was rough, but not unkempt. “You’ve lived out in the boonies your whole life. I don’t imagine you had reason to impress anyone.”
He crossed his arms in front of him as he leaned back against the counter. “My mum cut my hair when it got to be too much, at least in her opinion. I didn’t really care one way or the other. Magnus either, until he got his freedom.” He laughed. “Then he cared a lot. He was so pretty, with those curls. Still is, though he hates when I say it. When we’d go into town for supplies or a movie, women would make a fuss. Later, it was girls who’d come over and say something about his curls. Once he was a teenager, he didn’t mind that at all. He’d take any excuse to chat up the girls. That wasn’t my thing.”
“Girls weren’t your thing?” She didn’t know why she wanted to poke at him a bit, but she loved his facial expressions. He did this thing with his eyebrows that accented the intriguing slant to his eyes.
“Thinking I’m a winky wanky wonder boy?”
“A what? Is that some Scottish word for gay?”
“Heard this homophobic bloke say it on a BBC show once.” He ran his finger around the inside of the steam pitcher, then stuck the foam in his mouth. “I go for girls, thank you very much. They’re soft and curvy and everything wonderful in the world.”
She couldn’t help smiling at that, especially the glitter in his eyes. Given his isolated existence, a spike of curiosity pricked at her. “I don’t imagine you got to meet many girls living the way you did.”
“Not much. As soon as the man who’d been hunting us was dead, Magnus raced out into the world like a dog unleashed at last. Hooked up with a band, started hitting bars, socializing.”
“Hooking up with women, you mean.” Hm, was that the kind of socializing Lachlan had done on the computer?
“He was making up for lost time, aye, but he used protection, so no worries there. At least he’ll know what to do when you . . . well, you know.”
