Touch

by Rose Wulf

  “I’ll sleep an extra day later.”

  “That doesn’t seem smart,” Eric said. “You don’t want to put undue stress on your wife, you know. It’s bad for the baby.”

  “Bastard!” Nate exclaimed furiously, surging forward and throwing a hard punch in Eric’s direction. His fist never connected, but Eric’s body was thrown up and back again until he was pressed against the outer wall of the second story.

  Riley and Bruce stumbled back, shielding their eyes as they moved out of the way of the tight gale.

  “Nate,” Christopher said deliberately. “Don’t exhaust yourself.”

  Tires squealed somewhere behind them and Angela had barely turned to look when two distinct doors slammed. She watched with mixed feelings as Blake and Logan ran up the short distance of the driveway.

  “Angela!” Logan called, moving directly toward her. He pulled her from Christopher’s hold and wrapped her in a tight hug. His concern and relief should have been heartwarming, but she didn’t deserve it.

  “Where’s Dean?” Blake asked at about the time Eric again crashed to the ground.

  “He’s … inside,” Bruce replied hesitantly.

  “This stupid little punk thinks he’s dead,” Nate elaborated, his voice surprisingly venomous.

  “What?” Logan asked, shock loosening his grip.

  Angela drew in a breath and pushed away, not wanting anyone’s comfort. “He saved me … in the basement. And then … something blew up.”

  Logan took a step back and knelt on the ground, palm flat and fingers splayed.

  “Logan?” Blake called.

  “I found the basement,” Logan replied. “I’m going in.” He stood and promptly fell beneath the dirt, disappearing completely out of sight.

  Eric groaned, unable to completely hide his pain, and said, “He’ll regret that.”

  “Nate,” Blake said calmly, “take Angie to the car. You both need rest.” But there was something odd in his tone, as if he had ulterior motives for the request.

  “Sure,” Nate agreed, snatching the keys Blake had tossed easily out of the air. He turned and walked up to Angela, dropping a hand to her shoulder. “C’mon, Angie—”

  “No,” Angela insisted with a rapid shake of her head, stepping back from him. “I’m not leaving. Dean’s still—”

  “Logan will get Dean,” Nate interrupted carefully. “There’s nothing you or I can do until then. Let’s just go sit down.”

  “Actually,” Eric said, “I think you should lie down.” The air snapped and Angela’s stomach shriveled with another surge of electricity as lightning tore from the sky. It was right over her head.

  She slammed into Nate’s chest without warning, propelled by a hard gust of air, and both siblings tumbled to the ground.

  The lightning crashed into the ground where she’d been standing, but they were still too close to it. Searing pain tore into them as it traveled through the ground and into their bodies. Angela could only assume Nate’s experience was worse, since he was the one mostly on the ground. Something else she would feel guilty about just as soon as she could feel anything other than the burning inside her.

  Voices shouted, ringing in her ears, but she couldn’t truly distinguish any of them. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried thinking of anything else—anything at all to get the pain to fade.

  She remembered sitting in the back of Blake’s car, before she’d had her own—before she’d known she was dating the enemy—and confessing that she didn’t want to endure the same tragedies as their mother. She hadn’t wanted to lose anyone, let alone her brothers. Dean…

  She’d been such a royal bitch the last time the Matthews had come so directly at her family. And she’d taken most of it out on Dean because it had seemed easier to be mad at Dean for no reason at all. What had she really learned in the time since then? She’d learned not to get mad whenever someone expressed concern for her, but at what cost?

  Vaughn…

  Why hadn’t she just told him? Why had she gone and gotten so mad that she’d been cruel to him over something he was so obviously uncomfortable with? What am I supposed to do … without him?

  Maybe this is what I deserve, since I’m the reason Uncle Daniel was killed.

  “—ela! Angela!” someone called to her, urgency in his voice. A pair of hands landed on her shoulders, shifting her. “Angela, can you hear me?” There was an undeniable layer of fear in his voice, too.

  Somewhere else, very close, Nate groaned. “Was I … fast enough?” His voice was weak. Weaker than she could ever remember hearing it. But his wasn’t the voice that had been calling to her. And since when had her vision gone so dark? Why couldn’t she open her eyes?

  “Is she—?” Christopher asked.

  “She’s breathing,” the other voice confirmed. He was the one who’d called to her, and she knew she knew him. “Just wake up.” She was sure he was speaking to her again. “Angie … please.” A gentle hand brushed over her cheek and something inside her eased.

  Wait!

  His embrace shifted again, one arm slipped around to support her shoulders, and his lips pressed against her forehead. “Come back to me,” he whispered.

  The lingering pain from the near-lightning strike seemed to vanish then, as if snuffed out, and she finally sucked in a large, ragged breath. The arms around her tensed but she wasn’t afraid. She’d finally come to her senses and placed a name and a face to his voice. As she pried her eyes open and blinked to clear her vision, she stammered, “V-Vaughn?”

  Relief seeped into the gorgeous blue eyes shining back at her. “You scared us,” he said quietly.

  Tears immediately slipped from her eyes. Vaughn was there, holding her. He was alive. He was conscious and functioning. And the relief she’d seen in his eyes didn’t compare with the feeling that overtook her in the next instant. “Vaughn!” She threw her arms around his neck and held him as tightly as she could manage. “I thought— I was so afraid—” She cut herself off and gasped. “I’m so sorry!”

  Vaughn wrapped his arms properly around her and his lips brushed her ear. “You don’t owe me an apology. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

  “Looks like,” Eric said, choking again, “I’ll just have to kill you myself, Prescott.”

  Angela sucked in a breath, visions of Vaughn’s bleeding body overwhelming her, and opened her mouth to shout something when Blake’s voice caught her attention.

  “You’re not about to kill anybody,” Blake declared with an unusually ominous kind of certainty. “You’ll never kill anyone ever again.”

  Vaughn’s grip loosened and they both turned, looking past the small gathering of people between them and Eric. Nate sat half in their father’s lap, sweating and breathing heavily, undoubtedly drained between his exertion and the lightning. Riley and Bruce stood just beyond them. All eyes were glued on Blake.

  Blake stepped up to Eric, who was on his knees again, and said, “If I thought I could believe it for half a second, I would offer you the chance to surrender.”

  Eric spat on Blake’s shoe. “What’re you gonna do, conductor?”

  Oh no… Angela had visions of Blake being shot up with electricity and watching him burn to death right there in Eric’s driveway. Her stomach churned again, threatening to run away altogether. She could lose him exactly the way they’d lost Daniel—his predecessor.

  “Fun fact about water,” Blake said as he reached down and hauled Eric up by the collar of his shirt. “The human body is mostly water. Even yours.”

  Eric’s eyes widened and silence held through the group. He obviously hadn’t anticipated Blake making that threat any more than the rest of them had.

  Angela held her breath.

  “I could kill you before you could fry me,” Blake continued. “But if you don’t believe me, I’m willing to prove it.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Eric replied awkwardly, “I don’t believe you.”

  “Angela!” Logan hollered from s
omewhere inside the burning house. All eyes swung toward the doorway as Logan emerged, a limp body in his arms. “There’s still time!”

  Vaughn released her and Angela scrambled to her feet, her heart slamming in her chest. “Dean!” He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t well, but that was fixable.

  Logan brought Dean to her, kneeling in front of the Navigator and lowering their brother to the ground. Dean was nude except for the jacket—Logan’s—that had been draped over his waist.

  “That’s impossible!” Eric insisted.

  “He transformed,” Logan explained without looking toward their enemy. “The flames already burning in the basement kept him alive, but pulling himself back together knocked him out.”

  “That’s okay,” Angela said as she dropped to Dean’s side and lowered her hands to his chest, over his heart. “I can heal him like this.” Although, in her current state, she would need either a lot of time or several scattered healing sessions. But as long as she could get him stable, he would eventually be fine.

  “Well, congratulations,” Eric leered. “But Jacob and I will just kill you all anyway!”

  Logan pushed to his feet and turned, standing between Angela, Dean, and Eric’s line of sight. She didn’t need to see his expression to know what it was. Logan was furious. When he spoke, his voice was hard enough to confirm it. “Jacob’s dead. Turns out he wasn’t fireproof.”

  Stunned silence fell over them, echoing the shock Angela felt. She trusted Logan’s word, but she just wasn’t sure she could believe it. Jacob’s … really dead? Could they be so lucky?

  “You’re lying!” Eric finally cried. “Jacob isn’t dead!”

  “Sure looked like it to me,” Logan replied. “But you can always go check for yourself if you need proof.”

  Eric made a strange choked sound and thunder crashed overhead.

  Angela squeezed her eyes shut briefly, picturing the anguish on Eric’s face. How did it all get like this? Her gaze fell to Dean, who was fully encompassed in the grasp of her power, and a lump formed in her throat. What had happened to the days when their lives were peaceful? She shook her head as an image of Daniel crossed her mind’s eye. Those days, as far as she was concerned, had been an illusion. Her family had been targeted for at least two whole generations. And if they didn’t end it here and now, this was potentially the future that awaited her children. She wasn’t just fighting for her family in the moment, she was fighting for the family she didn’t have yet, too. And she didn’t want this for them. “It has to end here,” she mumbled, pouring as much energy as she dared into her power.

  “It will,” Vaughn said confidently as he knelt down beside her and set a hand on her shoulder.

  She started, not having meant for anyone to hear her, and looked over at him. He offered her a small, reassuring smile and the nerves twisting her stomach eased. God help her, she believed him.

  “I’ll kill you all!” Eric roared, shattering the odd, depressing silence that had barely settled. His words were echoed by another crack of thunder and lightning tore from the sky without further warning. For a split-second, Angela was sure the target was Blake, since Blake still held the collar of his shirt. She realized Blake wasn’t the target at about the time she registered the shouts ringing out all around her.

  The target was her.

  Her wide eyes swept up in time to see the bolt descending mercilessly and a thousand thoughts flashed through her mind at once. If she died—and this would surely kill her—Dean would die, too.

  Kira really would have to grow up without a father. Nate wasn’t strong enough to blow her out of the way again. There was a good chance that Madison would have to raise their baby by herself. Logan’s only option would suffocate her and Dean both. Blake was too far away and the environment wasn’t right. Vaughn, still beside her, would get hurt, too. She could tell he wasn’t fully healed, and there was no guarantee he could withstand an attack. She supposed, as her vision filled with blistering white, there was no point in worrying about those things.

  Time caught up to her in an onslaught of noise and confusion.

  Angela found herself hunched awkwardly over Dean, her back pressed against Vaughn’s chest. Vaughn’s arms were wrapped around her and he grunted with discomfort in her ear. The world around them—everything beyond Vaughn—sounded like it was burning and screaming. The air crackled and sizzled. Voices blurred into one long, loud, terrified shout. She wasn’t sure whether or not hers was among them. Everything burned for a long second, and then just as quickly, the pain and heat went away.

  Like it had been sucked out of her. Even the still-lingering pain from Eric’s previous attack.

  Vaughn stepped back, giving her room to breathe and straighten to a more proper sitting position. She heard him take in a ragged, difficult breath and only when she finally managed to catch sight of him did she fully realize what he’d done.

  He’d taken the hit for her. Not only that, but he’d somehow held in almost all of the electrical energy that should have resonated around it. But that was impossible … wasn’t it?

  “What … the hell? How did you do that…?” Eric asked slowly.

  “Angela?” Christopher called, his voice wary.

  Angela swallowed and forced herself to glance around. “I’m okay,” she promised. Her focus returned to Vaughn and she couldn’t stop herself from echoing Eric’s words. “But … how did you…?”

  Vaughn pulled in another breath and stood up straight, fists flexing at his sides. “I had to,” he said. Simple as that. “It was the only way to save you.” He shifted his attention to Eric and a hard, cold glare settled in his eyes. “As for you, you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”

  Eric scoffed. “Yeah? How do you figure?”

  “Drench him,” Vaughn instructed as he started forward, walking confidently toward Eric and Blake. It was clear the instruction had been for Blake.

  “Sure,” Blake obliged.

  Eric gasped as his body burst into a heavy, sopping sweat without warning and Angela watched as Blake released him and stepped back, giving Vaughn room. Eric stumbled when he suddenly found himself back on his feet. “What the hell?” Eric demanded, coughing. “What good is that?”

  “Principle, really,” Vaughn replied. He stopped once he was standing in Eric’s personal space and reached out, wrapping his hand around Eric’s throat. “Plus, it’ll make this sting a little more.”

  Angela watched, breathless, as Vaughn’s outstretched arm sparked. Even from her distance, she could feel the resurgence of electricity as Vaughn released the lightning he’d caught with his body.

  Eric’s mouth opened, but little more than a gurgle escaped him. His body arched as if he was actually in pain and Vaughn took advantage of the opening without hesitation. He let go of Eric’s throat in favor of shifting his weight and swinging a foot hard into Eric’s chest, sending him flying backward. Eric crashed through a window and landed back inside the burning house.

  “He’s probably not fireproof, either,” Vaughn said thoughtfully as he turned around and started back toward her. “I say let the bastard burn.”

  “Seconded,” Nate gasped. On his exhale, a wind rushed by, flying straight into the house through the newly opened window and feeding the flames.

  “How did you do that?” Riley asked as Vaughn passed her.

  Vaughn paused and glanced back at her. After several seconds, he shrugged and replied, “No idea.”

  No one said another word until after Vaughn had returned to Angela’s side.

  ****

  “You don’t need to heal me,” Vaughn assured softly, catching Angela’s wrist before she could brush her fingers over his side. It was pushing three o’clock in the morning already, and the only reason she was lying next to him was because he and her family had ganged up on her. She’d been determined to get Dean as healed as possible, insisting it was her fault he was hurt in the first place. She hadn’t been willing to listen to the arguments about how she was the
actual victim and everyone had known the risks.

  Though several of them were mentally or physically worn out still, Dean was the only one unconscious. Nate and Madison had opted, like Vaughn and Angela, to stay at the Hawke residence for the night, but everyone else had gone home a couple of hours earlier. Arianna was expected to bring Kira over in the morning. And though everyone’s emotions were strung tight, they all knew Dean would make a full recovery. He was stable, as Angela and Lillian had worked on healing him for several hours at a time. But Vaughn suspected that though she knew they’d all made it out alive, Angela was blaming herself just as vehemently as if they hadn’t.

  Angela released a breath and looked up at him, a beautiful, tired pout curving her lips. “But you’re still hurt.”

  Vaughn slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her properly against him. “I can heal the rest of the way on my own, I promise.” He pressed his lips to her hair and added, “Besides, you’re exhausted.”

  Sighing and snuggling more into him, Angela mumbled, “Yeah, there’s that … but I could heal you some in the morning.”

  “You can heal me by taking care of you,” Vaughn offered as her head settled on his chest.

  Angela’s hand curled over his abdomen and she was quiet for several long seconds. He wasn’t entirely sure what was playing through her head, but she remained silent just long enough for him to wonder if he’d said the wrong thing. When she moved again and propped herself up so she could look at him, he remembered the anxiety he’d felt earlier that morning. When he’d finally told her the truth about his heritage.

  “Vaughn,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to tell you, but I want you to know. I love you, too.”

  A lump formed in his throat and he stared at her, not sure what to say. It was what he’d wanted to hear for so long that actually hearing those words took him completely by surprise. He reached out and trailed his fingers over the unbruised side of her face, giving himself a few extra seconds to find his voice again. “Angie,” he finally whispered. He tugged her to him and kissed her thoroughly, swallowing her soft moan and stroking her tongue with his. One hand tangled in her hair, behind her head, and the other locked around her waist, holding her tight against him. Only once she started squirming did he release her. “You don’t have to apologize, angel. I’d wait forever for you.”