Stranger Series Box Set

by Heather C. Myers

  It was that moment that guilt tore into her once more, this time for lying. But, she promised herself, she would tell Will everything when the timing was right.

  When she reached her floor, Will pulled her into a quick kiss, and before she could say anything, the doors closed shut. She pressed her lips together, trying to contain the smile from burning onto her face. God, she loved Will. She loved everything about him, loved kissing him. Just plain loved the guy.

  Instead of heading to her dorm, she turned and headed to the male dormitories, straight to Jason's door. She wasn't certain if he'd be there, but she'd be chickenshit if she didn't at least try.

  Before knocking, she took a deep breath. She hadn't prepared anything. She had no idea what she was going to say. She hoped that since it was coming from the heart, it would mean more.

  She hoped.

  Jason opened the door, and the surprised look on his face at seeing Sophie standing there gutted her even more. She wasn't hurt or upset; she knew she deserved it. There was no reason why she should be here.

  "Hi," she said, and then made a face at how awkward she sounded. She opened her eyes, peeking into his room, and saw a suitcase on Jason's bed with a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. She furrowed her brow. "Are you going somewhere?"

  "What do you want, Soph?" Jason asked, tilting his head to the side. "Last time I checked, we were over—a decision you made."

  “I just—”

  “Let me guess,” Jason said. His brown eyes—usually warm, friendly, smiling—were hard and cold. “You wanted to come over and check on me. See how I’m doing. Because you feel sorry for me. You maybe want to be friends? I don’t know. I don’t care.”

  “Jason, I—”

  “Sophie, I really liked you. I still do. I was blindsided when you broke up with me. Like I said, I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’t want you to be.” He paused, looked away. His dusty blond hair was sticking up every which way. It was adorable. “I don’t know what’s going on out there, with Jane and Ethan’s announcement about how we have to go back home. I don’t know if you’re going to stay here …” He let his voice trail off and shook his head. “I’m mad at you, Soph. But I wish you the best. I just don’t want you around me right now. Probably for a while.” Another pause. “Just stay safe, Soph.”

  Before she could say anything else, he shut the door in her face.

  Sophie didn’t know if it was the past few days, if it was leaving Jane, her parents’ betrayal again, and the breakup were finally catching up to her, but she broke down and started crying. Hard, ugly sobbing. She hoped Jason didn’t hear as she walked away, but she couldn’t stop it even if she tried.

  4

  Marvin looked at the girl, still unconscious. She was in the same dress she had been wearing a few nights ago, dried blood clotting the visible cuts on her skin. This time, however, his pale blue eyes were intense, trying to decipher just what this girl had over his baby brother. She looked like any typical girl next door—the blonde hair, the deep set eyes, the splash of freckles. She had an eye-catching shape to her body that would cause even his stiff brother to loosen up. He didn't know her personality, couldn't read her thoughts while she was unconscious—while he kept her unconscious. Pretty, definitely, but there had to be more to her. Daryl didn't feel things for any pretty girl, which meant this one had to be special in some way.

  How? Marvin intended to figure out.

  He already knew how he was going to remove Janie from her captor. Michael was intimidating and strong as hell, but Marvin was apt at sniffing out weaknesses, especially those that belonged to people in power. For some inexplicable reason, he trusted Marvin. Maybe it was because Michael was paying Marvin or expected loyalty amongst kindred spirits. Except there was nothing kindred between the two. Hell, Marvin didn't really give a shit about anything, really. Not much, anyway—except getting paid, and Marvin planned to get paid. Ethan was paying a pretty penny for Janie here, and with Michael's trust, he planned to simply take her body while the occupants slept. Besides himself and Jane, there were no other mentals, which meant that they wouldn't be able to detect him. Shifters might have astounding hearing and good scent, but they weren't as smart as mentals were. As such, he expected to be out of the house by three the next morning.

  "Who are you?"

  He was surprised to find the voice actually surprised him. He jumped but smoothed it out and turned his head so he could look at the person who interrupted his thoughts. She was pretty too, in an ordinary way. Girl probably wasn't older than Jane. Maybe they even went to the same academy together. Maybe Daryl knew this girl, too. What Marvin wanted to know was, why was she here?

  The girl —young woman —came up to his collarbone. She had straight brown hair past her shoulders and brown eyes that were hidden behind reading glasses. Her face was striking in that it was perfectly symmetrical, but to a casual observer, she looked ordinary. She wore a knee-length plaid skirt and a white collared t-shirt buttoned to the top. She looked prim and proper and would never be the sort of girl who would ever in a million years be seen socializing with the likes of him. He delighted in it all the more.

  "Who are you?" he returned, raising his brow. "I've seen you here before a couple of times. Judging from the outfit you're wearing and the skeeziness I feel even looking at you, I'd say you're a student, probably from that peculiar academy. Am I right?" The flabbergasted look on her face caused him to grin. Her face turned pink, and she slid her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Thought so."

  "I asked first," she said, though her voice was a tad shakier than she probably expected it to be. "And you should feel skeezey for lurking in Jane's bedroom, staring at her while she sleeps like some kind of perv." She paused, letting her words sink in. "And maybe you've seen me here before, but I've never seen you."

  Marvin shrugged nonchalantly. "I like to keep out of sight, if I can," he said. He glanced away, out the window. The sun had already gone down, so besides the light from the hallways, shadows illuminated them. Luckily, his eyesight was the second best thing about him, behind his mental abilities. "And who said she's sleeping?"

  "Unconscious," the girl corrected.

  "Marvin," he said, his grin widening. "Pleasure to meet you."

  She tilted her head to the side. "My name is Brielle," she said.

  "You're the girl who healed Janie after she got attacked by that shifter bitch, Dianna?"

  "What?" she yelped, looking left, right, as though someone could hear her. "How did you know that?"

  "I know everything." It was the first time today Marvin was being serious. He waited for her to look him in the eye—he could read so much clearer when they looked into his eyes rather than forcing it—and that was when he knew everything. The fact that she wore glasses didn't prevent him from obtaining information, either. He had trained himself long ago how to see through glass to get to the mind. "I know that you're Janie's friend and that you feel guilty that she's here. I know that you can heal her, but only if she's conscious.”

  "How can she be unconscious this long?" Brielle asked him. "Each time I check on her, I've never noticed any head trauma."

  "I'm keeping her unconscious so my baby brother doesn't find her when he sweeps the island," Marvin explained. His tone was natural, as if he were speaking about the weather or the color of the sky. He stuck out his hand. "Marvin Depogare, to be exact."

  Brielle looked down at his hand and almost took a step back. "Forgive me if I choose not to touch you," she told him.

  Marvin let his hand drop to his side, not offended. "Don't matter anyway," he said. "I already learned everything there is to know about you. Everything interesting, anyway. Like how you have a thing for the doctor at the academy. Now, why would a good girl like you have a thing for a prick like Kessler?"

  "How do you know Kessler?" she asked, but shook her head causing strands of chestnut to frame her face. "We're getting off track here. You're Depogare's brother, right?"


  "That's what I just said," Marvin replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  "Why are you forcing Jane into unconsciousness?" she asked. "Why would you do that?"

  "Why would you help ol' Michael heal Janie?" Marvin asked. "Why wouldn't you say anything to your dean or Daryl? What does he have on you, girlie? Oh wait, don't answer that. That bonehead of a shifter is your brother, isn't that right?"

  "Stepbrother," she corrected with a snap. "That villain is my stepbrother."

  "He's panpi, though, ain't he? Human? A non-peculiar?" When Brielle didn't reply, he nodded his head once. "Just as I thought. You're in quite a situation, aren't you? Your stepbrother got involved with the wrong person, trying to make easy money, but then fucked up real bad, didn't he? Michael is using you to pay off his debt."

  Brielle's shoulder sagged with invisible relief. Even though he had cut her wide open for the whole world to see, it was almost as though she was grateful she didn't have to hold it in anymore.

  "Cillian raped Jane," Brielle said. "When Michael found out, he was going to kill Cillian because she was the key to finding out more about Sophie—the only female physical he had ever known—so he could get his hands on her. Apparently, Michael wanted Cillian to get close to Jane so Jane would tell him about Sophie, and in turn Cillian could tell Michael about Sophie. But Cillian has always had issues for feeling inadequate, and when he found out that Jane was more than just a typical peculiar ..." She shook her head. "It's like he had something to prove or something. Cillian told Michael about me, about what I can really do. He got me to heal Michael after the chandelier at Ultra fell on him, and in exchange, Cillian would be spared. Except, Cillian's still here and Michael keeps tabs on us. Until he has Sophie, we're stuck."

  "Why would you want your piece of shit stepbrother spared anyway?" Marvin asked, perplexed. "He ain't blood."

  "I ..." Brielle shook her head, her eyes misting. "When I was in panpi elementary school, he always looked out for me. I got picked on a lot and—" She cut herself off, her brown eyes flashing gold. "Wait a minute, why am I telling you anything? You basically admitted to me that you're holding Jane hostage."

  "And you're helping her actual capture, and twist," Marvin pointed out, extending his index finger to emphasize his point, "you're hiding her whereabouts from everyone. Michael paid me good money to do what I'm doing. It's not hurting her, and I ain't gotta even be in the same room to do it, so I'm not being held hostage. Curtis is going to pay me a shitload more." He shrugged his shoulders once again. "It's a no-brainer, really."

  "I thought Daryl was blood," Brielle pointed out.

  "He is, but we take care of ourselves. He knows how I am. Why do you think you've never heard of me until now?" He pressed his brows up. "I've got a proposition for you, missy. One I think will be mutually beneficial."

  "Oh?" Brielle asked, looking at him in clear disbelief. "And what makes you say that."

  "You and I are going to rescue Janie." He paused, waiting for his words to sink in before saying, "Tonight."

  She felt herself be awakened slowly. First, her mind. Then, she began to feel her body again. But it felt different. Like an outfit she hadn’t worn in a long while. Like she was slipping on a new sheet of skin. She flexed her fingers, looked down at her hands. She felt the movement, recognized the skin-colored bump on her left middle finger she got because she wrote too much as a kid.

  She shook her head and looked around.

  Where was she?

  There was a bed. A familiar bed. And on that bed was a man. A man her heart recognized before her head did because it constricted painfully to the point where Jane could barely breathe and almost keeled over at the sight of it.

  Daryl.

  He was sleeping. Shirtless. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that her eyes lingered on his back, the curve of his spine, the way it rolled back up to his buttocks—covered by plain black pajama bottoms, of course. He was covered in different tattoos, over his skin, his large arms, even on his chest. His slept on his stomach so she couldn’t see much, but she knew they were there.

  Her lips burned, and she remembered their kiss. Heated. Passionate. Desperate.

  She hadn’t thought about it after her attack. Well, she hadn’t thought about it much. Sophie was gone, and no one knew who took her and why. Or who attacked her and why. And then they found her, with Michael. With the United States military. Because Calvin betrayed them all.

  And then it was a blur. People ran. She dropped Calvin and shot the bullet—well, she shot Arbuckle’s gun, after she knew the people she loved would be safe. Then, she did something she didn’t realize she could do.

  She forced Sophie to leave her behind. Jane had reached in Sophie’s thoughts and forced her to leave.

  She didn’t know she had that power. Did Daryl?

  She shook her head.

  The kiss.

  The confession.

  There was so much between them that they needed to talk about, but they could never find the right time. She knew this was a dream, knew she wasn’t really with him, but somehow, their dreams transcended imagination and, for them, were reality.

  And then, as if he knew he was being watched, his eyes opened and locked right on Jane. Her breath left her.

  Those black eyes still had the power to penetrate her into a paralysis. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Her heart stopped.

  “Jane?” he slurred, his voice heavy with sleep. “I thought you were—” He cut himself off and sat up, facing her so she could clearly see his the muscles in his abdomen.

  Blessed be.

  “How is this possible?” Daryl asked. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you … Unless …” His eyes flashed. “He did it.” He shook his head, almost in disbelief. “I can’t believe he did it.”

  Jane didn’t understand. “Did what?” she asked. “Who?”

  “My brother,” Daryl explained. “My brother found you.”

  5

  Sophie didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she woke up early the next morning. The sun crept through the cracks of the blinds. She was grateful they had been closed beforehand because she would have forgotten to shut them the night before. Her head pounded with guilt; her eyes were sore from overuse. She took a deep breath in, let a deep breath out. The quilt was curled into her hands, and she pushed her head into her pillow, enjoying the cool material on her hot face. She closed her eyes and listened to the silence. Mesmerized it. Reveled in it.

  She had been with Will for a couple of weeks now, and already she had forgotten the joys of sleeping alone. She stretched out her body so it took up the majority of the space and let her body relax into the mattress. She needed this stillness, needed this time alone to let everything sink in. As much as she loved being around Will, he was too much of a distraction.

  The first thought she picked up on and allowed herself to expand to was Jane and the possibility of having her back within the next couple of days. She was flooded with emotions, the top one being relief. She would get her friend back. Hopefully, Jane was fine. She survived being attacked; certainly, she would survive ...

  No one knew where Jane was or what had happened to her. Sophie racked her brain but couldn't come up with anything. She had assumed the bullet hit her because she saw Jane drop immediately after it went out. But now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember if it ever touched her. What she did remember was the insistence that once that bullet was fired, she had to get everyone out. It was the weirdest feeling—she knew it was her mind, but it was almost as though the order had come from outside of her. In a way, she was grateful because she was almost positive if she hadn't gotten them out when she had, they would all have been taken, stuck in some cell, being experimented on.

  Sophie had saved everyone—but she did so by leaving Jane behind. She was certain she had time to get Jane before they left, but something insisted they leave right then. And even though both thoughts were Sophie's, she felt powerless
against the louder one. It was forceful, domineering. Nothing at all like her.

  And then it hit her.

  What if it wasn't her? What if someone had controlled her thoughts?

  But who? Who had the power to do that? As far as she knew, the only peculiars present were shifters, physicals, and Depogare, Calvin, and ... Jane.

  What if ...? Sophie let the thought drift off before she put much effort into it. There was no possible way Jane has the power to ... And yet, she could read minds and move objects using her thoughts. She was both a physics and an animus; she was a quis. Sophie remembered that from her one-on-one sessions with Ethan. Quis were so rare, much of their abilities were left to be discovered. What if Jane had powers none of them even knew about, that Jane didn't even realize she had?

  Wait a minute, a voice instructed. That sounds far-fetched, even for the world of peculiars. Maybe your guilt is trying to rationalize why you left her. Maybe you're trying to make yourself feel better because you left her behind.

  Sophie opened her mouth to argue with herself, but stopped. What if she was making it all up because she still felt bad? She shook her head, the pounding only causing the pain to reverberate against her skull.

  She needed a shower. She needed a break from thinking.

  Sophie physically sighed the minute the hot water hit her body. She hadn't showered in three days, and worse, hadn't even noticed. She must smell terrible! At least Will had the good sense to keep his mouth quiet about her odor. Maybe that was his version of being romantic because she was almost positive if Will smelled her, he wouldn't hesitate to point that out. She smiled at the thought, and her heart clenched. She missed him. He must think she was crazy, running out on him without much of an explanation. Guilt started to pool back into her stomach, and it tightened its grasp on her insides. She needed to apologize to him.