by Angel Lawson
“You need reminding?”
“Don’t you?”
The words should be red flag but she understands what he means. It’s a hard balance finding the right place in this world. “Okay,” she says, determined to lighten the mood, “tell me this: Kill, Fuck, Marry; Ron, Hermione, Harry.”
He gives her a crazy look but she nudges him encouragingly and he thinks on it.
“Kill Harry, Fuck Hermione, Marry Ron.”
Well that was a surprise. “Explain.”
“Harry’s annoying. I said it. Way too much baggage. I’d marry Ron because then I’d get to be part of the Weasley family. And I’d fuck Hermione because smart girls are sexy as hell, she’s definitely got an adventurous side and after we made love she’d probably lay in bed with me all day and read.” He stops. The entrance of the park is just ahead.
That is a revealing answer. She takes a moment to digest it.
“What about you?” he asks.
“Me?” she says, but she already knows the answer. “I’d kill Hermione because I’m not really into chicks. But the other two? I have a philosophy when it comes to men I have a connection with and find attractive.”
“What’s that?”
She shrugs. “Why choose?”
*
The roads are being repaired down by the water from where Demetria’s dragon tore up the asphalt. The streets are no longer filled with the litter of the parade, although clumps of flowers in honor of the victims are scattered down the route.
“It’s hard to believe it was all real,” Draco says.
Astrid nods in agreement. “No wonder the mayor is pissed.”
They’re not out here for any particular reason, just trying to get a feel of what’s going on. Luby hasn’t called again and that makes Astrid nervous. Did someone find out he tipped her off? There are too many unknowns right now and she doesn’t like it.
The wind shifts and she catches a hint of perfume in the air. Lilac. She holds her hand up and Draco pauses. Every day they’re more in tune. He watches and waits for her signal. A zipping sound scrapes down the road. She frowns in confusion but hears that the heartbeat coming from down the block is a little elevated—no, make that two heartbeats. She’s not getting a read on adrenaline just—
The girl comes into view holding hands with a boy carrying a skateboard in his other hand. He drops it suddenly, the board and the hand, and zips down the road before turning back to meet her. When he catches up to her he slows, kissing her quick on the lips. Both heartbeats hammer.
Draco and Astrid cling to the shadows and let them pass.
“They probably shouldn’t be out here,” he says once they’re gone.
She shrugs. “We probably shouldn’t be either.”
The kids wander off and they’re alone and she too wonders exactly what she’s doing out here. Killing time mostly, giving Draco a chance to be part of the team. She glances over at him and notices him staring.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
The dark glint in his eye along with the subtle shift in his scent triggers her curiosity. She peels off her glove and then his.
“What are you doing?” He stares at their hands.
“Just curious about something.” She steadies herself, zeroing in on the information she wants, and presses their palms together. He’s a jumble of emotions but it’s not hard to narrow in on the one that matches his scent. She pushed past the righteousness and dedication, peeling back the layers to the base of his emotions.
Want. Hunger. Need. Teeth biting down on lips. Breasts pushing at leather. Her cheeks, her hair. Her eyes.
The vision shifts.
She’s pressed against a wall in her suit—a brick wall, a smile on her mouth, Draco holding her up, her legs wrapped around him.
“Oh,” she gasps, pulling out of the moment. It certainly wasn’t a memory. More like a fantasy.
“You okay?” he asks, suspicious of what she’d just seen. Her body heats at the thought of what he wants to do to her. She looks behind her and sees the brick wall.
“I’m…” She has a hard time forming words. He’s rattled her. Sex like that…it’s unexpected to know he thinks of her in such a way. He hides his interest well.
“What did you see?” he asks, but she lifts up her hand and quickly tugs her glove back on.
Heavy boots scuff against the pavement and the hair on Astrid’s neck prickles with alert. She shows him two fingers, indicating two people are coming.
“The kids?” he whispers.
She shakes her head and he removes the shield off his back. She tilts her head to go south, to avoid whoever is coming. They don’t need an altercation—not tonight.
Draco follows her order and clings to the shadows of the building. It’s one of the ones Kincade burned. Acrid smoke still lingers in the air, dulling her sense of smell. A shift in the wind sets her on edge and she reaches for Draco’s hand to stop him just before he turns the corner.
Too late.
Two men, covered head-to-toe in military black, are just on the other side. The soldiers seem just as surprised as they are, but it doesn’t keep Draco from raising his shield.
No. They can’t fight these men.
“Ah, looks like we have a couple of vigilantes,” one says to the other. Their faces are masked but Astrid doesn’t need to see a face to know who is behind it. Rowe, her former student, blocks their path.
“That’s not what we are and you know it.”
“You work outside the law, you insert yourself in police matters, you cause mayhem and destruction.” Rowe glares at her. “I’d call that vigilantism.”
“What do you call saving a kid from a burning building?”
“Stupid,” he sneers. “Unless you work for the fire department.”
“I’d call it being a hero instead of a warmongering threat like you,” Astrid spats back, not knowing why she’s in this fight.
“Unfortunately, you’ve violated the Safe City Act. You’ll have to come with us.”
Draco laughs. “Unlikely.”
Rowe can’t back away from a challenge and obviously, neither can Draco. She silently wills him to back off and to just get out of there. The other soldier looks equally concerned and watches Rowe and Draco puff out their chests, seconds from blowing up.
“Mr. Perfect,” Casper breaks in. “You’ve got six more incoming. These guys aren’t alone. They’re coming from behind.”
She glances backwards and sees the shadows in the alley a block away. Footsteps echo off the ground. There’s a whirring overhead. She looks up and spots a small black disk. What the hell?
“Diversion in 3…2…1…” A loud explosion followed by smoke consumes both sides of them, behind Rowe and between the ones approaching. Draco shoots his rappelling cord into the air, hooking over the side of the building. Before the smoke clears, Draco has his arms around her and they’re up on the rooftop. Casper cackles in her ear. “Did you see that? Did you fucking see that? Holy shit.”
“What was that?” she asks, running over rooftops. The gym is three blocks away but her mask clicks on and reveals the others are on the run too.
“That was all me, baby.”
“You caused that explosion? How?”
“I built a drone.”
She stops and rolls her eyes at Draco. “Is this your way of never leaving your bunker?”
“You got it.” He clicks out, still laughing, and they drop down the fire escape onto the building next to hers. At the bottom they find Owen and Quinn. Owen’s face is bruised.
She reaches for him and he grunts.
“What happened?”
“Got jumped by a group in the Swamp. Some kind of neighborhood watch.”
“What? Were you doing anything?”
“Nope. Just looking around. Keeping an eye out.”
“You were right,” Draco says. “We’ve got no friends out here.”
They’ve got the gear, they have t
he tech, they have the powers to keep themselves and others alive. Unfortunately, no one wants their help.
Chapter Twelve
Owen
Early morning light peeks in from his bedroom window and there’s nothing he wants more than to stay in bed. For a week.
His body aches from three days of training and he can barely lift his arms. After the fiasco of going out the other night, he’s glad Astrid finally agreed to keep off the suits and stay at home. The city is too dangerous for them right now. The shit with Demetria and Blaze imploded, literally, and they need to keep a low profile.
He’d hoped this would let him off the hook for the recruitment program but no, Astrid doubled down. She wants a man on the inside of Jensen’s unit and unfortunately for him, he’s that man.
A footstep creaks on the floor outside his door and he looks over just in time to see Astrid slip into his room. She closes the door with a quiet click and walks over.
“Hey,” he says with a scratchy morning voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I promised you a massage before everything went to hell, but I’ve got time now.”
She’s standing there in her standard pajamas; tiny shorts and a ridiculously see-through tank. He and Quinn are both convinced she’s got no fucking clue the affect she has on them in that get-up, but he’s not going to be the one to tell her. She likes her clothing tight and he likes her regardless.
“Hell yeah, I’ll take a massage.”
She pushes him down on his stomach and pulls off the blanket. He’s shirtless and shivers when she touches his back with her fingers. They’re cool compared to the warmth of his skin. She climbs on the bed, straddling her legs over his hips, resting her weight on his ass. His cock grows hard underneath him, pressing into the mattress.
Her touch is light at first, stroking down his arms and back. Then she kneads harder, pushing deep into his aching, sore muscles.
“You’re very good at this,” he says, knowing this kind of intimacy is hard for her, she spent her life avoiding contact. He tries to keep it light.
“Atticus had a massage therapist that worked with the trainers for a long time. Her name was Patricia and she taught me some moves.” Her thumb digs into the muscle just below his neck. Owen winces, both hating and loving the pain. “You’re very tight in this area.”
“Yeah,” he replies, exhaling into his pillow. That’s not the only place getting tight.
“You have pretty skin.” Her fingers linger near his shoulder and the tattoo inked in his flesh. “You never told me about this.”
He turns his head to the side so he can catch a glimpse of her face. Her long braid hangs over her shoulder. “I got it after my aunt died.”
Her fingertips stroke across the lines. “An angel.”
“She promised she’d always watch over me.”
Her lips replace her fingers, warm and wet against his shoulder. She proceeds down his back, kneading and kissing the sore muscles away. Her nails scrape near the edge of his shorts and he grunts back the discomfort of his throbbing cock. He shifts, lifting on his elbows, looking over his shoulder so he can see her better.
“As…”
“Yeah?” she replies innocently.
He holds her blue-green eyes. “You know I’m not a patient man.”
It’s a lie, though. They still haven’t had sex. They’ve kissed and she sucked him off. He fingered her on the couch, dry humping her ass while she brought Quinn to a shattering orgasm. They’d flirted and touched but they’d held back from this one thing. Why? Time. Opportunity? Obligations?
None of those seem to be a deterrent right now and although he’s willing to wait for her, he’s still a man that knows what he wants. He wants, no needs, to claim this woman with his body, mind, and soul.
With two hands she lowers his shorts, easing them over the hard steel jammed into the mattress. She moves a hand to his back, making him stay. “You wanted a massage, Owen. Remember? All the whining? The pain?”
“There are other ways to relieve pain.”
“I think you mean stress.”
“Well, you’re causing me stress, babe.”
She slides her body back over his legs and her hands move to his ass. She starts massaging again and he clenches his jaw when she moves close to the crack, pushing and pulling the skin.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“What?” Damn. Are those her teeth? He’s throbbing hard now, close to humping the bedsheets. Her fingers dip between his legs, touching the soft, hidden area.
Owen presses his forehead into the pillow, hissing at the sensation. No, patience isn’t in his wheelhouse, this is nothing but torture. He closes his eyes and thinks of her skin, her lips, her mouth. He thinks of her pussy and how wet it must be under her tiny, cotton shorts.
He hears the rustle of fabric behind him and with a grimace he turns back to catch a glimpse of the evil woman putting him through such torturous pain. His reaction to seeing her is a low growl, coming deep in his chest. She’s stripped naked, posed angelically at the end of the bed. He waits a beat, pushing against his inner beast, to take her in. Absorbing the way her hair hangs over her shoulder, trailing down to her magnificent breasts. From her nipples to her belly button to the patch of fair hair covering her most alluring prize. The look she gives him is naughty, like she knows she’s crossed a line and doesn’t look the least bit sorry.
“Is this your way of telling me something?” he asks, moving to face her. His cock hits against his thigh.
He’s not prepared for her reply.
“I want you.”
Well, prepared isn’t the right word because he lunges for her and drags her across the bed. She squeals with delight and he stifles it with a kiss. He reaches for her tits, her pussy, and every inch of body in between. His voice catches when she touches his cock, remembering the way her mouth felt around it. When she’s settled on his lap she doesn’t waste time, lifting up and lowering herself down on him. He groans with instant relief, like he’s finally come home, and the faint smile and pink blush to her cheeks tells him she feels the same.
But none of it compares with the way she looks, the way she feels, when she begins rocking over him, moving her body in a way that meets his so perfectly. She rides him slow, gaining speed when she feels it, and he thumbs her nipples until her breathing comes in ragged jags. Sex with Astrid isn’t a moment—it’s an experience, full-bodied and emotionally crippling. She gives it all, all, and when she crests over the wave of her orgasm, she takes Owen along for the ride.
*
The punch comes from below, nailing him under the chin and rattling his teeth. He stumbles backwards but holds himself upright. Astrid laughs at him through her mouth guard and protects her face with her boxing gloves.
Their eyes connect. Aquamarine against green and he’s jolted back to the sight of her riding his cock hours ago. It boils down to the base—the connection he feels to her now, and when she swings another punch he blocks it and lands one of his own.
“Damn,” one of the recruits says; number six, he thinks. “Go get her, Christian!”
The whole class is watching, plus a couple others working out in the gym. Quinn’s hulking frame watches from the observation platform above.
She steps back, absorbing the hit, and a different kind of smile plays on her lips. She feels it too and bends her elbows, ready to take the fight to the next level.
Yesterday she would have wiped the floor with him—today they’re almost even. She lashes back with a roundhouse kick. He dodges and gets in an elbow jab, then sees an opening and catches her from behind. Her arms are locked, her chest heaving from exhaustion. He smells the sweat on her neck and shoves his knee into the back of hers. A witty remark dances on his tongue when she hooks her ankle around his and leverages his weight to one side. They crash to the floor and Owen is completely taken off guard and finds himself face down under the weight of her body.
“Almost had h
er!” number six cries, fist hammering the nearest pole.
Astrid’s hair hangs over his own sweaty neck and her breath is hot against his ear. “Good job,” she says, pushing off his back and standing. He climbs to his knees and notices the new respect in the faces of his classmates. He really must have been close.
Once they’re dismissed and he’s cleaned up, Owen heads to the observation deck, wiping the sweat off his face and neck with a towel. Quinn offers his fist and they bump them together.
“It’s different now, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Owen asks, but he suspects he knows.
“The bond with Astrid. You’re connected now, I don’t know if it’s her echo or what. But it’s like being in synch.”
“An intuition.”
“Right,” Quin says. “It’s not like with other women. Whatever those doctors did to us, they probably didn’t expect this.”
“No, I doubt it. They did everything they could to keep our powers separate from one another.”
Quinn nods and they both look down on the gym floor. Astrid talks to Luby, who is cleaning up the weights left on the floor.
“How do you think they got it so wrong?” he asks, resting his arms on the railing. “That we work better together than apart?”
“I think the doctors had one plan for us and ultimately it wasn’t evil. But if we fell into the hands of someone else, the military, then there had to be some kind of backup measure. Something to make us less dangerous.” He glances down at Astrid and she looks up at them, raising an eyebrow in question. “I also think they underestimated her power.”
“How?” Owen asks.
“If I had to guess, her empathy is what strips down the barriers between us. When we’re…you know, with her…she unlocks the bond.”
