Touch

by Rose Wulf

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2019 Rose Wulf

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-990-4

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my readers. To everyone who’s followed the saga of the Hawke family from the beginning and stayed with me through to the end.

  I hope you enjoy the final installment of the Elemental Series!

  TOUCH

  Elemental Series, 5

  Rose Wulf

  Copyright © 2019

  Prologue

  Long ago…

  “Papa! Papa!” Clemence Grey cried, her voice choked as tears poured down her face and obscured her vision. She barreled into her father’s work space carelessly, barely stumbling to a stop in time to avoid breaking anything.

  Miles frowned, set down his tools, and pushed to his feet as he asked, “Clemence, what’s the matter? Why are you so upset?”

  Another sob clogged her throat and she dragged in as deep a breath as she could manage, her heart still bleeding from the raw wound she was about to share. “Cuthbert,” she gasped brokenly. “Cuthbert, he’s … he’s been murdered!” The image of her beloved older brother, sprawled face-down on the dirt in the middle of town, body still smoking, flashed through her eyes again and her knees buckled, forcing her to topple straight into her father.

  She couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

  Cuthbert was a gentle man. He’d used his natural ability to control the earth they lived on to help their neighbors selflessly, always worn a smile, and had a laugh to share. His life had still been ahead of him. Just the other day, Cuthbert had asked Mabel Cardwell to be his wife. It had been glorious news for their family. Mabel was a beautiful young woman, a weather-controller, who took advantage of her talents in order to grow fresh fruits and vegetables, which she then took to market. Their union would have been the kind everyone envied. Everyone, at least, except for Mabel’s older brother, Reuben.

  Reuben was the man responsible for Cuthbert’s murder. Clemence had seen it all. Reuben had called out to Cuthbert, also drawing Clemence’s attention, and marched right up to him in the middle of the road. She hadn’t heard what he’d said, but she’d recognized in her brother’s body language that he was uncomfortable with the conversation. And then, to her horror, a bolt of lightning had torn from the naturally cloudy sky and crashed right on top of Cuthbert’s head.

  He’d certainly been dead before he’d hit the ground.

  Even her healing hadn’t been able to save him.

  “That … that can’t be,” Miles finally mumbled, shock quickly slackening his expression as she finished her story.

  Clemence sniffled, self-consciously wiping at her eyes as she straightened. “It’s the truth, Papa.”

  “Clemence!” Mabel’s grief-stricken voice intruded as she leaned into the small space. “Clemence, please, you have to help! It’s Cuthbert, he’s—”

  “I know,” Clemence whispered as she turned to meet the older girl’s teary gaze. “But there’s nothing… I can’t save him now.”

  Mabel sucked in a breath and fell to her knees, a heartbroken sob tearing from her throat. Her shoulders shook and she buried her face in her hands.

  Over the following hour, a level of numbness settled over Clemence’s heart. She watched as agonizing grief overtook face after face. Her other brothers—Abraham, Bartholomew, and Rowland—all reacted similarly. It had been over ten years since their mother had passed away, and somehow this loss felt even worse. Their mother’s death, at least, had been an accident. And as tragic as that had been, knowing that someone she loved had been deliberately struck down was infinitely worse. It was probably a good thing her mother hadn’t lived to see such a day.

  Clemence was busying herself preparing dinner, not knowing what else to do, and Abraham’s fiancée, Joan, was working alongside her when shouting drifted in from the other room.

  “I won’t!” Bartholomew declared furiously. The temperature in the air rose in accordance with his voice, an ever-present reminder of how dangerous his temper could be. “I absolutely refuse to stand by and let someone else handle this! Reuben killed my brother—your son—and he’s going to answer for it!”

  “Bartholomew,” Miles said, his own voice strained, “please, let’s not make this worse.”

  “Worse?” Bartholomew repeated incredulously. “Worse than Cuthbert having been murdered in the center of town? Don’t be ridiculous!”

  Bartholomew’s fists were sparking, thin streaks of flame forming a visible trail in the air as he swung them around to emphasize his words. Clemence curled her fingers into the doorframe between the small kitchen and their living space, her breath lodging awkwardly in her throat. She’d never been a violent person, but she wholly understood her brother’s perspective. Cuthbert hadn’t deserved what had become of him, and they certainly couldn’t sit around and hope that Reuben didn’t get away with it. But, especially after that display, the town would be afraid to act against him.

  “Someone has to put that murderer in his place.” Bartholomew voiced Clemence’s own thoughts. “And I’m more than happy to do it!”

  “Bart,” Abraham said, finding his feet and stepping up to his brother. “We all understand, but picking a fight with Reuben isn’t the smart answer.”

  Bartholomew shoved his sibling away. “No, Abraham. Killing Cuthbert wasn’t the smart answer. Reuben has to pay.”

  Clemence’s heavy, guilty gaze slipped past her arguing brothers until they’d landed on Mabel, who was curled into a ball and still shaking with her grief. She’d been concerned that perhaps this talk of killing Reuben would upset Mabel, but Mabel didn’t seem to have heard a word of it. Or perhaps she was crying because she agreed.

  “I’m going with you,” Rowland said tightly as he, too, strode toward Bartholomew. “Someone has to give Reuben what’s coming to him, and we’re the only ones who can.”

  Tension held in the room as Bartholomew inclined his head. Clemence watched with bated breath as her father and Abraham clearly debated on which was the wiser choice.

  “You’re right.” Abraham finally relented. “But I’d rather not drag the other Cardwells into this if we can avoid it.”

  “Abraham,” Joan said, breaking from Clemence’s side and moving to him, placing one hand on his bicep. “It’s dangerous. What if you get hurt?”

  He pulled her hand into his, stroked his thumb over her pale skin, and replied, “I know it’s dangerous, but Cuthbert was my brother. His death can’t go unanswered. He’d have done the same for me. For any of us.”

  “I’m going, too,” Clemence declared, surprising even herself and drawing every pair of eyes—except for Mabel’s—with her words. But suddenly, she was sure she’d said what she meant because she could breathe a little easier and a foreign, hard feeling was forming in her chest.

  “No,” her father said firmly. “You’re staying home.”

  “He’s right, Clemence,” Rowland said. “You’d get hurt.”

  Glaring at her brother, Clemence replied, “I wasn’t asking for permission.” Without another word, she turned and strode for the door, her blood burning with anger. Whoever Reuben Ca
rdwell thought he was, whatever right he thought he had to strike down her innocent brother, she was going to personally see to it that he only lived long enough to regret it.

  “Clemence Grey,” Miles said, anger coloring his voice. “You come back here immediately!”

  “I’ll come home when I’m done,” she returned without looking over her shoulder. And then she was outside, standing beneath the insultingly clear evening sky, her eyes blind to the fading colors of the day’s sunset. A cold chill swept over her in time with the grating caress of a small breeze, raising bumps on her arms, and she started forward. The Cardwell home was halfway across town, but it was as good a place as any to begin her search for her brother’s killer.

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  “I was thinking,” Geoff Solberg said as he claimed his usual spot beside his girlfriend, simultaneously handing over her requested iced tea. “Maybe we should try something new? Just for a little change of pace.”

  Angela Hawke tipped the bottle to her lips, took a long swallow, and then cocked a dark brow at him. She and Geoff had met on her first day of college, nearly two and a half years earlier. He’d asked her out a couple of times, but she hadn’t agreed until the following summer. They’d been dating ever since, and she’d moved in with him after Hilary—her best friend and previous roommate—had chosen to move in with her own boyfriend. Hilary’s decision had been accompanied by a new, sparkly, diamond ring, so Angela couldn’t really fault her. Geoff had yet to produce a diamond, but that was okay, too. She wasn’t ready for that level of commitment. Agreeing to move in with him three months ago had been heavy enough.

  Taking her expression as his prompt, Geoff settled an arm around her shoulders, leaned in to brush his lips over the skin beneath her ear, and whispered, “I think it’s time you had your first threesome. And I know just the chick to invite for the party.”

  For a long second, Angela was sure she’d gone delusional. Because surely her boyfriend of very nearly two years hadn’t just made that suggestion. Surely the man she’d dedicated herself to all this time hadn’t been thinking about getting naked with another woman. But he had, she realized, because after the first awkward second, he was still grinning at her expectantly. Her mouth opened, she snapped it shut again, and finally pushed him away in order to find a little breathing room. “I’m sorry,” she finally began. “I could’ve sworn you just suggested a threesome. Is that really what you said?”

  His grin broadened. “Yep. You gotta trust me on this, baby. Three is so much more fun.”

  “More fun?” Anger seeped into Angela’s voice as it seeped into her blood. She narrowed her eyes at him and shoved to her feet, one hand still clenching tightly to her tea. “That’s disgusting, Geoff. I’m not that kind of woman, and I’d really have expected you to know that.”

  Geoff sighed, not bothering to find his feet as he watched her walk back toward the kitchen. “You shouldn’t knock it before you’ve tried it, Angie,” he called after her. “What I know is that it’s something you’ve never done. Don’t you trust me?”

  Angela paused, her back to the couch and her rapidly infuriating boyfriend. Did she trust him? Mostly, yes. She’d thought she trusted him almost entirely until about thirty seconds ago. But she had to admit to herself the very fact that he had suggested that, let alone that he hadn’t yet dropped it, was starting to damage her trust in him. Aloud, for the sake of argument, she said, “It’s not about trust, Geoff. I know when I’m not interested in something. That should be enough.”

  “What do you have against it?” Geoff asked, shuffling behind her, indicating he’d finally climbed back to his feet.

  What about it sounds appealing? Were they really even having this conversation? Angela returned her bottle of tea to the fridge, no longer thirsty, and replied, “Frankly, the idea’s repulsive. I don’t want to share the man I’m with with another woman, and I don’t want to be shared.”

  “Aw, c’mon, baby,” Geoff pleaded, propping an elbow on the counter in her peripheral vision. “Disgusting and repulsive are a little harsh, considering you’ve never experienced it, don’t you think?”

  Turning firm, narrowed eyes on him, Angela said, “My answer is no, Geoff. Don’t bother bringing it up again.”

  Geoff straightened, obviously a bit taken aback by her response, and reached out for her. He opened his mouth to say something, but the simple gesture somehow reminded her of something else he’d said moments ago.

  “And what do you mean you know just the chick?” She was absolutely sure she didn’t appreciate the sounds of that.

  He blinked at her, seeming thrown off by her question, and his arm fell back to his side. “Just what I said,” he replied. “Remember Stacy, that girl you had that project with last semester? I ran into her the other day.”

  Angela crossed her arms over her chest. “How does running into someone you’ve barely known a handful of months answer my question? What, did she say, ‘Hey, we should get together and have an orgy’?”

  Chuckling, Geoff shook his head and said, “Of course not, Angie.”

  He didn’t offer more, and that didn’t escape Angela’s notice. Warning bells sounded in her ears and she tried to think back over the past few days. Had Geoff acted weird at any point that week? Or even the week before? Nothing immediately jumped out in her memory, but she really didn’t like the only possible explanation running around in her head.

  “Stop avoiding the question,” she said shortly. “What could even make you think Stacy would be just the chick for something like that? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Geoff shrugged, hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets, and said, “It was actually her idea. We were talking and she kissed me, lots of hands and tongue, and when I told her she needed to back off, she suggested we all scratch our mutual itch.”

  Angela sucked in a breath, unable to decide which part of his explanation infuriated her more. “When she tried kissing you,” she said, her anger building slowly, “you should have pushed her away, not decided to see if you could give her what she wanted!”

  “Baby.” Geoff held his hands out as if he thought he could calm her down. “That’s not what this is.”

  “It’s not?” she returned pointedly. “You mean I’m not supposed to hear that story and think you’re just a man who wants to have his cake and eat it, too?” She pulled in a breath and dropped her arms to her sides. “Exactly how far did that kiss go before you finally told her to back off?” Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she needed the answer. But she wanted it nonetheless. If only for curiosity’s sake.

  Geoff arched a confused brow, paused, and slowly said, “Uh, not really far … it was just a kiss.”

  “Just a kiss with lots of hands and tongue?” Angela said, repeating his words back to him.

  He shrugged. “I stopped her when she reached for my jeans.”

  Her hand collided with his cheek before she could even consider thinking better of it.

  The air still echoed with the sound of her palm smacking his cheek when she shoved her way around him and exclaimed, “You know what? Do whatever you want with Stacy. We’re through.”

  “Angie,” Geoff shouted after her. “Baby, wait a sec. Why’re you so upset? We can talk about this!”

  “If you even need to ask me that question then there’s no point in talking!” Angela called back as she slammed the bedroom door behind her. She had half a mind to kick him to the couch for the night, as it was already late, but she couldn’t stomach the idea of spending another night in that bed. Maybe she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him her family’s secret—her secret—but she’d certainly trusted him enough to let him hold her at night. They’d been together for eight months, give or take, before she’d finally caved and gone to bed with him. She’d thought she’d known him well enough to trust him with that part of herself. Obviously, I have worse taste in men than I thought.

  To think she’d thought, after the fiasco with
her previous boyfriend, that wasn’t even possible.

  “Angela,” Geoff said, intruding on her thoughts. His voice was far too close and clear to be muffled through the door.

  Her hand tightened over the pair of jeans she’d been in the process of throwing into her suitcase and she turned enough to look back at the cheating bastard standing in the doorway. He stood two inches taller than her, at five feet and ten inches, and had a full head of thick—usually slicked back—brown hair, with deep brown eyes to match. He was in decent shape and almost exactly six months older than her, meaning he was also a year ahead of her in school. His lips were currently curving down in a frown as he absently massaged the cheek she’d just slapped. More importantly, he was standing between her and her exit.

  “What?” she barked, promptly turning her back to him once more.

  “I’ll forgive you for smacking me if you’ll take a breath and tell me what the hell you’re so upset about,” he said evenly.

  Angela choked on a disbelieving laugh, threw the last article of required clothing into her bag, and tugged the zipper shut. “That’s super generous of you, Geoff. I’m afraid I’m not as big a person, though. I don’t know that I can forgive you for getting hot and heavy with another woman.” She hauled the overnight bag off the bed and turned to properly face him. “By the way, did I ever tell you about how my relationship with my first boyfriend ended? How I caught him in an alley with his dick in the mouth of some blonde? Congratulations. That was probably a little more devastating. Now get out of my way.”

  Geoff narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms. “That’s a little harsh, baby. I’m not him. I told you. I stopped her, and then I asked how you might feel about one night. That’s entirely different.”