by Angel Lawson
“What did you do to them?” Draco asks.
“I just shifted things around a little.”
He watches the two men crumble into giggles. “Are they…”
She knows where he’s going. “Oh, they’re not into each other.”
“Like brothers. Twelve-year-olds. They really, really like each other.” The two laugh and share some kind of inside joke. Then one tosses sand at the other and they race down the beach.
“That’s pretty impressive.”
“Thanks.” She sits on the edge of the fire pit and he follows. The heat warms her back but it feels nice, a contrast to the breeze coming off the ocean. “I know the two of them were hoping I’d go sex-goddess orgy on them but eh, this is more fun.”
“You let them treat you like that? A sex object?”
She turns to look at him. His jaw is more defined in the firelight. “Is that what you think goes on between us? That I’m some toy for them?” Guilt consumes him but she’s not angry. If anything, she feels a little more sympathetic to his reaction at his house. “Let me make it clear. They are not using me, not in any way, and our relationship isn’t something any of us jumped into. It developed slowly and is constantly evolving. The three of us are in this together. We’re open and safe. Honestly, it’s a lot like our bond on the street. We have each other’s backs. We fight hard and then come home and love hard.”
She’d never defended their relationship out loud before. She’s never even defined it, but if the softening of Draco’s expression says anything, she did a good job.
“Thank you for explaining it. I’m not trying to be a judgmental ass. It’s just new and even if my actions don’t always show it, I care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Those two aren’t going to hurt me.” She holds up her pinkie. “I’ve got them wrapped up tight.”
He laughs. “I bet you do.”
“But listen,” she says to him. “I don’t judge you either for holding back. Sharing, as you say, isn’t for everyone. We’re strong and we’d welcome you into the group, but only if you want. It’s your decision.”
The tic returns in his jaw and she wonders if she lost him again. He looks down at his hand and in a quiet voice says, “I’m not sure I can push through my concerns on this one. What I want and what my mind say are warring. That’s hard for me.” His eyes find hers. “Like it goes against my nature.”
“Mr. Perfect, you are so complex.” She reaches for his hand and says, “May I?”
His everything is guarded. His face, his mind, his body. The shield has gone up but if he’ll let her, Astrid can try to chip away. She holds back her elation when he places his hand on hers.
Astrid doesn’t read his echo. She’s done that. She knows him, but what she wants to do is release him for just a moment from his mental binds. Standing, she makes a bold move, straddling his lap. His apprehension is clear, even out on this fantasy beach. She feels his hand grip her hip and the tightening in his pants. Swallowing, she places her hand on his cheek and closes her eyes, pushing past the layers holding him together.
The images in his mind are strong, she’s not here to read his echo but damn if it doesn’t want to be heard. At least the parts about her. God, he wants her. All the time. But it’s not just physical. It’s emotional, and that’s where the fear lies.
She uses her empathy against him, pushing back with the bond she has with Owen and Quinn. Those emotions are stronger than anything she’s ever experienced; all-consuming, and if the love, laughter, and connection they share can’t break Draco, then nothing will.
The slightest stirring vibrates against her gift, the thinnest crack, and she doesn’t hesitate to exploit it. His chest heaves against hers and his fingers dig into her skin. She feels his breath against her lips and she dives in one last time.
It’s unnecessary, Draco is already on the cusp and she’s barely pushed through the break when his mouth crashes into hers. The first hit tastes like birthday cake, sweet and sugary, and it drives her to kiss back. She grinds against his lap, craving the pressure. His hands are strong, needy, and her body melts. The want blossoms in her belly, expands through her limbs, and comes out through her empathy in a soul-crushing collision.
“I didn’t know,” he mutters, pulling her against his erection. Everything is already so heightened that it doesn’t matter if there’s layers of fabric between them. The pressure feels good and he tastes fantastic and the cool breeze tingles against her damp skin when he trails kisses down her throat. She’s pretty sure if he keeps doing that, she’ll come despite the barrier. From the way he’s breathing, she’s pretty sure he may too.
“Didn’t know what?”
He holds her face between his hands and captures her eyes with his own. “What I was missing.”
“You may not feel the same when this is all over, but understand I’m waiting for you, got it? Because now that I’ve tasted and felt you, I’m not giving up so easily.”
He drops his forehead to hers, their lips inches apart. Yelps down the beach break the moment. The edges of their world start to fade, the room ripples and slowly the beach, the fires, the roaring ocean all vanishes.
They’re back in the training room; Quinn and Owen standing near the wall, breathing heavy. They eye her and Draco suspiciously since they are curled into one another in the middle of the floor. After a long, awkward pause, he helps her extract herself from his lap. She pretends his cock isn’t still pressing hard against her as she comes to her senses.
“We never left?” she asks, completely bewildered.
Owen rubs his hands together. “All an illusion. Pretty good, huh?”
“That was insane.” Quinn says, brushing his arms. “I feel like I still have sand on me.”
“But what about everything else in there? Quinn making fire…” she doesn’t put a name on what happened with her and Draco.
He shrugs. “I’m not in charge of everyone else’s gift.”
One thing that’s evident is how exhausted they all are, and soon Owen and Quinn head to bed. Astrid walks Draco to the door, scooping up Harry along the way. He makes a good buffer, purring and snuggling in her arms.
“Sorry if I crossed any lines tonight,” she says.
“If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I’m stronger than some hormonal teenager unable to control himself.”
“Dude, I probed your brain and I’m pretty good at it.”
He smiles and it warms her heart. She doesn’t want to start back at the beginning with Draco. She can take it slow, give him time, but start at ground zero? Nope. Not happening.
“You’re really good at it,” he agrees. “And you’re a great leader, Astrid. I know things are rocky right now but I have no doubt we’ll be back on the streets helping people.”
“Why are you so sure?”
He shrugs but his lips are warm when he kisses her cheek and exits the dormitory. What he doesn’t say, and what she feels in her heart, is that Draco has faith in her. In their mission, and maybe he’s coming closer to wanting to share more. She hopes that all of that is true.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Draco
The trail pounds under his feet, dark soil with crumbling rocks. The higher he goes, the steeper the incline, the better chance to feel his calves burn. He climbs and climbs, keeping a jog the whole time, easily balancing on the rocky terrain.
There’s no maxing out athletically for Draco. He learned that at fifteen when he freaked out every man in the gym, adding weight after weight to the bar. Eventually he faked being worn out, wobbling his arms with false fatigue, realizing he’d gone too far. Exposed way too much. Emma tucked him onto a plane the following day with explicit instructions never to reveal himself like that again.
Since then, he’s trained on his own. It’s not about gaining speed or strength. He was born with that and given a boost by Project 12 to amplify what was already there. No, rather, he runs, lifts, climbs, races, and puts himself
through the ringer every day to keep himself sane.
And after that encounter with Astrid the night before, he needs to clear his mind more than ever. At the very top of the hill he stops and strips off his long-sleeved shirt and looks out over Crescent City, skimming the horizon toward the harbor. It’s beautiful from up here but it doesn’t take his mind off of Astrid like he’d wanted. No, it simply gave him more time to think about her.
The woman has obliterated his world, his values, and everything he thought he knew about himself. She’s unconventional, strong, dedicated, and absolutely the hottest woman he’s ever encountered. Draco can barely reconcile the little girl with the tight hats and gloves from the group home with the sexy woman. Every day his urges grow stronger, and his resolve weakens.
And that kiss.
Goddamn, that kiss. He runs his hand over his sweaty face. He can still feel the heat of her lips against his and his groin tightens, again.
He’s been in a constant state of semi-erection for twelve hours now.
He wasn’t lying when he told her he wouldn’t share. He also meant it when he asked about her being a sex object for the other men. The thought of her being used brought out a primal, furious rage. But when she peeled back his shield and he got a good look at what was in her heart, he understood. She’s in control of this situation. She’s in control of herself—something she no doubt learned over the years of handling her gift. His doubt of her was the offense.
He should probably apologize again about the sex object statement. The sharing thing? Well, he’s still coming to terms with that idea.
The vibration on his watch tells him it’s time to get moving. He’s got an appointment to go see Demetria later today and a stack of WIND-E paperwork to go through. He already misses the idea of patrolling the city with the team, and the part of his brain he listens to—the one accentuated by his gifts—tells him they shouldn’t stray too far from their mission. Sometimes the bad guys need something a little bigger to stop them, and Draco’s not sure the Task Force is up to the job.
*
Showered, dressed, and lingering over his home office desk for the files he needs, Draco hears the screen behind him ding, and he turns to face Casper. The cyber hacker looks like he’s been up all night. He knows he didn’t appreciate being excluded the night before, but that’s a consequence of his situation.
“Hey,” Draco says, picking up the files. “What’s going on?”
“Ass-deep in the dark web.”
“Thought we agreed to back off of that.”
“I didn’t agree to shit. Astrid had to make her choice, but it’s been made perfectly clear I’m on the fringe of the group. They only call me when they need me.”
Draco sighs and sits on the edge of the desk. “I’m not sure that’s a fair comment.”
“It doesn’t have to be fair. It’s true.”
“Casper, you won’t leave the bunker. The rest of us are living our lives out here and we want you to be part of it.”
“You know that’s not possible.”
“I don’t know that. What I do know is that you’re stubborn and scared.”
He laughs. “Pot meet kettle.”
Draco raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“I know what’s going on between you and Astrid. I hear things—catch vibes—even from my limited distance. She wants you and you definitely want her, but you’re too scared to meet on her terms.”
Once again, Casper drops a truth bomb. How does the little bastard do it?
Draco crosses his arms and says, “Then how do we change that? I mean, we’re strong, genetically superior beings. You’re wicked smart and I’m, well,” he waves his hands down his body. No need to be modest. “How did this one woman get us so tied up?”
Casper thinks about it for a second. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe she’s supposed to tie us up to make us better.”
Draco already know this is true. He’s felt it, but it requires a buy-in from him that he has to be willing to give. He stares at Casper for so long that the guy says, “What are you looking at?”
“You’re onto something—about both of us. It’s time for us to push aside our fears.”
“And then what?” There’s no mistaking the nerves in his automated voice.
“Then maybe we’ll fill that hole in our chest that’s been there since we were kids.”
Draco takes one last look at Casper before leaving the office, but there’s no doubt the hacker knows exactly what he’s talking about, and they both know it’s time to fix it or lose out on the opportunity of their lifetime.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Astrid
“Have you seen Luby?” Astrid asks Mick as she walks up to the gym’s main desk. It’s been two days since the kid showed up to work. She’s aware he has to look after his grandmother, but whenever he’s missed before, he’s at least texted.
“Nope. No calls. I even checked the email.”
She snorts. “You know he’s not going to email.”
“Maybe he left us a tag on the 6th Street bridge?”
She raises an eyebrow. Maybe. Part of her worry is being off the streets. Her team decided to cut off all information including the scanner, news, and other details. She’s sure Casper is still tracking stuff, but he’s not saying anything. But being out of the loop is making her anxious.
She heads to the back office and grabs her jacket. Owen sits at the desk, going over footage of his training today. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
He narrows his eyes. “What kind of walk?”
“The I-need-some-fresh-air kind of walk. Is that a problem?” She pulls a hat over her head, covering her ears.
“I’ll go with you. I really should stretch my legs after that session today.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he agrees, sliding his arms into his own coat. He pulls a black beanie over his blond hair. “But spending time with you is never a chore. Come on.”
She feels the worry on him, but it’s tempered with confusion. She’s not trying to go out in her suit, which means she’s not breaking their agreement, but he also can sense she’s got ulterior motives.
He follows her out the back door and into the street. Fall is in full swing, Halloween just a few weeks away. The thought makes her say, “I’m really glad Demetria is locked up for Halloween. Can you imagine?”
He shakes his head and the grimace on his face is too real. “Total nightmare.”
“Too bad our alternative bad guy is a terrorist.”
“It’s killing you not to help, isn’t it?” he asks.
She walks through the iron gates into the park. “It’s not bothering you?”
“I don’t like being forced onto the sidelines, but things were getting a little intense. If Jensen and his team want to tackle this with better resources, I’m okay with that.”
She doesn’t want to admit he’s right. They don’t have the resources, other than Casper, to track or stop a terrorist.
“What I don’t like,” she says, passing the gazebo in the middle of the park. A pole with community events tacked to the side is next to it. A poster for the soccer match hangs in the middle. It’s in three days. “Is that no one has called off the game. Why would they put so many people in danger?”
“Maybe it’s more complicated than that. Maybe they’re trying to trap the guy, or they’ve already caught him.”
She grunts, not liking it one bit, but she agreed to this and she has to accept it. Nudging him toward the eastern path, they exit the park a few blocks away from the Swamp.
“Where are we really headed?” Owen asks. They’re not too far from his house.
“I’m worried about Luby.”
He nods. “I noticed he wasn’t around.”
Astrid feels self-conscious without her suit, but she’s also out of place in the neighborhood in her regular clothes. What’s a girl like her doing roaming around
this part of town? They get a few glances from kids hanging out on the street corners and twice Owen tosses up a shield, hiding them from Task Force patrols.
“How are we going in?” Owen asks when they reach the front gate of the housing project. The “guards” checking people in and out of the apartment are really just drug runners controlling the flow of visitors.
“Usually I go over the back wall. But I’m wearing a disguise.”
He glances over at the guards. “I still think the back wall may be the right way to go in.”
Agreeing, Astrid leads him around the back. She finds the spot she’s used before; grooves in the stone wall make perfect foot holds. Her gloves don’t have the rubber grips but her upper body strength is enough to get her to the top. Just as she’s cleared the top she pulls back, almost toppling.
“Shit,” she says, holding on to the edge.
“What?”
“There’s barbed wire up here. It’s new.”
“What’s that for?” Owen asks from down below. “To keep people in or out?”
“Hell if I know.” There’s no way for her to get over like this—not in regular clothing. The fabric on her suit could resist the barbs but not the cotton pants she’s wearing right now. She’d shred her legs. Turning around, she looks down at Owen, who is no longer looking at her. He tosses up a hand, a move she’s come to know for shielding, and she steadies herself. Even Owen’s shield won’t help if she falls.
She hears the heavy boots the Task Force members wear. Two voices bounce off the stone wall. One male, one female.
“Not sure I get why we have to patrol this community? Other than the petty bullshit that goes on down here, there’s nothing major going on.”
“I agree that it seems like a waste of skills,” the other voice replies. Astrid recognizes the female. One of her recruits. “But the mayor wants this area contained and for us to keep an eye out for the vigilantes. He’s convinced some of their intel comes from sympathizers in the complex.”
