“But what if Magnus has developed something that would appeal specifically to the Eastern European market?” Heather added. She made a note to research further the current specific needs of the nations in question. She sat on the love seat right next to me. I got the vibe that she’d cling to me at the first sign that I was trying to leave before the meeting was over. Maybe Thirteen wasn’t the only one I should have called while I was away.
“The product isn’t as important as the contract they’ll force the Russian government to sign,” Charles said, sitting forward. “Or the Belarusian government or Ukrainian government. We’ve seen the specifics of Kelch Inc.’s contracts with foreign nations in the past. The senator will play it up as providing a much-needed economical boost when in reality they’ll turn the country’s workers into slaves—insane hours with little to no pay for the development of some weapon or ammo that they’ll just end up shipping to one of their country’s enemies.”
“Even more,” Marie added, sitting forward to match her husband, “Kelch Inc. industry in any one of those countries will establish a fiscal leverage against the governments that the senator can then use for his political agenda. Everything is about power with the Kelches. We can’t ever forget that.” She glared at me. As if anyone could miss the subtext of her words. I just ignored her—that always pissed her off more than actually responding to her little jibes.
“Chang,” Thirteen said in that soft, commanding voice of his, “what have you been able to find in your deeper searches into Magnus’s logs?”
I turned my attention to the wiry tech and had to admire his continued sense of style. Skintight black jeans, black T-shirt with a cartoon of a bunny flipping the bird, and laceless Chuck Taylors that matched perfectly the neon blue of his hair. He jumped when I looked his way. He’d been staring at me. Again.
“I, er.” He cleared his throat. “I have the dates of the meetings, and now that we broke Bennett, I’ve been able to fill in a couple of the holes in the itinerary. But as far as meeting minutes or potential product line, I still can’t get past the firewalls.” He paused. “You look different,” he blurted out at me like an accusation.
“My hair’s two inches longer,” I replied drily.
“That’s not it,” he argued. His eyes searched my face, then slowly did a nice, insulting body scan.
“Hey!” I shouted, making him jump again. “Do you mind?” I’d actually been enjoying the meeting until now. The last time I worked with the team, my brother Markus had been targeting the Network themselves—taking out as many agents as possible to impress dear old Dad. This time I got to work with them on a real, normal assignment. I didn’t want to screw it up by standing out now.
“He’s right, though,” Marie added. “You aren’t all, you know, like you used to be.” I cocked a knowing brow at her and enjoyed the pissed-off blush that spread across her face.
“I can pull it back now,” I explained after she squirmed in her seat a few seconds more. “The sensual draw that comes from, well, being me—I can suppress it now.” I shrugged. “It made leaving the house a little easier not having to worry about people going comatose from passing me on the street.”
“I mean, you’re still”—Chang waved his hands uselessly in my direction—“you know, like, beyond hot. But I’m not getting all whacked out like before. It’s, like, cool.”
I smiled despite myself. “Thanks.”
I gasped as a sudden and almost violent surge of sexual need sliced through me like a blade. My head fell back, and my eyes shut tight. The pulse of energy grew stronger, hotter. “Oh my God,” Marie whispered on a moan, and I knew they all felt it as well.
“Magnolia.” Thirteen’s voice was sharp, grabbed my attention. His eyes were frighteningly wide. “Whatever you are doing, please stop it. Now!” The lightbulb in the lamp beside him shattered.
I breathed in pants, tried to steady myself. This energy came from me—I could feel it spreading out from within me—but I couldn’t control it like my other powers. Damn it, I’d worked too hard these past months to gain complete command of my abilities. Why the hell was this happening now? I could feel the need of every person in the room fueling the need inside me. And the power. I held up my arm. Every hair stood on end. Glowing. Power so great it literally radiated from me and filled the room. Only one other time in my life had this level of pure, golden energy flowed through me, out of me, with such potent force. Even as I thought it, the bittersweet smell of musk and metal wafted through the air. I knew what was happening, and I closed my eyes, fighting to hold back the pulsing power inside me.
Theo had just arrived.
It took more effort than I wanted to admit to stifle the glowing energy pouring out of me. Not because it was hard to do, but because my natural—or rather supernatural—reaction was to give in. It actually felt wrong to pull it all back.
Heather breathed heavily beside me. “Why did you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to. It’s just that…I was surprised. It won’t happen again.”
“Surprised by what?” Shane was exasperated. He rubbed his hands over his thighs, trying to wipe away the residual effects. Beside him, Charles petted Marie like he couldn’t stop touching her. The doorbell rang. No one moved. I couldn’t meet anyone’s eye. It rang again. I felt Jon’s stare as he left the room to answer. I looked at Heather. Her thoughts were full of knowing. Of the group in the room, she knew the most about Theo’s and my connection—her empathetic abilities kind of made it hard to hide.
Jon walked back into the room with Theo trailing behind. He stepped into the room, and our eyes locked. Everyone else faded into the background.
This must be what angels looked like. The fallen ones, at least. A whole head taller than me, his square jawline was dark with unshaved growth. His hair was cut short in back but longer in front, so the black strands fell over his eyes. So many times I’d dreamed of sinking into those chocolate eyes. His lips parted, and I felt them on mine again. My first real kiss. My only real kiss. His callused hands had been so soft on my arms, my back, in my hair. Someone moaned.
Pull it back, Mag. His thoughts whispered through my mind. My cheeks burned at the intimacy.
I didn’t realize you could still do that, I thought back, my mental voice surprisingly steady.
Yeah, I’m sure there’s a lot you didn’t realize when you decided to leave for months on end. His words were clipped, brought up my guard. But then his voice softened. We need to talk, Mag. I looked deep into his eyes and suddenly realized that I couldn’t read his thoughts. We could talk in each other’s heads—our own personal telepathy—but his unconscious thoughts were closed off from me. I pushed a little, not enough for him to feel it, but just a little to know what he was thinking. There was nothing. No mental walls blocking me out. Just nothing.
I instantly panicked. No one’s thoughts had ever been inaccessible to me. Not Uncle Max’s, whose mental powers were stronger than anything I’d ever seen. Not my father’s or even my other uncle, Mallroy’s—not that I’d ever been anxious to go there, but still, I always could if I wanted to. This was like some sort of black hole. I pushed harder, deeper into his mind. There had to be something. A hand rested on my arm. I jumped and jerked from Heather’s grip. She lifted her hands in surrender.
“You’re hurting him, Magnolia,” she said calmly. I turned back to Theo. Sure enough he’d shifted his stance, bracing himself. Sweat beaded at the collar of his gray henley. I stopped immediately. His shoulders sagged in relief.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I’m…sorry.”
Shit! It was like the emotions I felt around these people were ten times stronger than any other feelings I had. And they affected everything about me.
Heather hesitantly touched my arm again. “Maybe we could go pick up some drinks,” she suggested to Thirteen. “We only have a couple beers left, thanks to you boys hanging out here every night off. Magnolia and I will just run over to the Hoosier Daddy and gr
ab a case or two. And you like Kendall-Jackson chardonnay, right, Marie?” She tugged at my arm, and this time I didn’t pull away. “Is it OK if we take a quick break?”
Thirteen’s eyes had gone dark, dangerous. He eyed Theo like an unwelcome insect that needed to be squashed. “Yes, Heather, I think that is an excellent idea.” He pulled his keys from his back pocket and dragged his gaze from Theo to me. Instantly his face softened. “Take my car.” He tossed me the keys. “Be careful.”
I nodded and let Heather guide me through the room. My eyes kept going back to Theo. As we passed him, an urge to touch him flared inside me. His eyes widened, and he took a forced step back, careful not to brush up against me. When we finally left the room, he and Thirteen were locked in a silent staring contest.
As soon as we stepped out into the cold air, the heat of the moment washed away. I took several deep breaths, looked up to the cloudy sky. The intensity of our connection was more overwhelming than ever. Even now, all I wanted to do was go back in there and be near him again.
Heather stood silently by Thirteen’s SUV. When my nerves finally settled and I was sure I was back under control, I unlocked the car and we both climbed in. She waited until I pulled out of the drive before turning in her seat to face me.
“You want to tell me what the heck just happened in there? Or would you prefer I pretend you didn’t almost drive us all to an orgy the minute Theo walked back into your life?”
CHAPTER 8
The rest of the meeting was pretty uneventful. The tension had remained, everyone waiting for me to blast them with some intense power again, but I had been in much better control after my little beer run with Heather. Of course, it also helped that Theo had participated mostly from a bar stool in the kitchen.
Soon, Mag, his thoughts had whispered to me as I’d left Jon and Heather’s house with Thirteen. I’d smiled the entire drive home.
That night, alone in my farmhouse, I dreamed that I sat on a small island of golden sand in the middle of a large lake of blood. This place was real, even though I only ever visited in my dreams. This was the bloody place inside me where all the dark Kelch power existed. It had grown since my escape, but the blood no longer tried to take me over. We had an understanding now. The blood was rage, hatred, and all the ravenous, violent urges that were such a significant part of me. But, unlike the rest of my family, I could control this part of myself without letting it consume me.
At least most of the time.
I played my fingertips along the surface of the blood and stared down at my reflection. The image staring back at me shared my long dark hair and distinctive eyes, but she wasn’t really me. She was my twin. The one who had died on the day of our birth. She had had no powers—I’d consumed every supernatural ability we would have shared in the womb—but when Father sensed the level of power inside me, he hadn’t taken the chance that my twin wouldn’t one day develop similar powers of her own. He’d ordered us both killed. She died and I lived. I saw her every now and then in this bloody place. Always staring up at me from the blood, always smiling with an innocence I’d never had.
“Your island is getting larger,” a deep voice said from behind me, letting me know I’d conjured another presence in my dream. “It’s a reflection of a different kind of power inside you. One that gains strength by the minute.”
I looked around the dream’s landscape. The voice was right. The golden sand of my island stretched far to the horizon now, a sharp contrast to the bloody lake and pink sky surrounding it.
A man stepped into view, and I tried not to flinch as I looked up to meet his gaze. He was tall, towering over me in his three-piece suit that looked like something out of another time. His hair was slicked back, regal looking. The high cheekbones and dark slashes of eyebrows looked foreign and familiar all at the same time. He was my family—every member combined into one. Or rather, he was the embodiment of who I saw my family to be. He had Father’s sharp jawline, Uncle Max’s intelligent blue eyes, Uncle Mallroy’s thick, untamable hair, Malcolm’s arrogant posture, and Markus’s uncertain smile.
A few months ago, when he’d first appeared, I’d thought his presence was a result of some new power my father or uncles had developed: that they had figured out I was still alive and were worming into my mind to track me down. Deep down, though, I’d known that not even Uncle Max could enter someone’s mind enough to carry on conversations with them in their dreams. It was through those conversations that I’d realized this dream man had to have come from me. I saw my family in him, but he was interested in me, talked to me. He’d never tried to hurt me in my dreams, even when we’d disagreed. After a while, I’d realized that this man was the part of me that wouldn’t let go of the fantasy of having a nice, normal relationship with my family.
It pissed me off that a part of me still held on to that pointless hope.
“You’re all dressed up,” I said, taking in his appearance. “Like when Father would have one of his business parties.”
Across the crimson lake, the landscape changed as a memory came alive in the dream. Wide double doors of the estate’s front entrance rose. A line of glossy limousines pulled up the stone drive. Men and women stepped out, wearing top hats and tuxedos and long flowing dresses. They paused to look up at the sparkling white of the limestone mansion, pointing with delight at the etched windows and wide, ivy-covered columns that stretched the entire four stories. I followed their stares to a third-floor terrace. Pushing the plush curtains aside, I saw inside the suite. There I was, a statue in front of a full-length mirror. The dress was silver this time, with tiny beads that shimmered like water as I moved. Tonight all the men would look at me, lust for me. The women would hate me. I couldn’t pull back the sensuality yet. I didn’t know how. After all, I was only fifteen.
Father appeared in the doorway. Instantly, I stopped breathing. People always thought him handsome in a dangerous sort of way. With chiseled features and dark hair and eyes. The gray at his temples only emphasized the aristocratic breeding that he so surely carried. He was wearing one of his tuxedos and looked like a picture out of a magazine. Only instead of a camera-ready smile, his face was distorted with disgust. He looked me up and down. “Is it ready yet?” He wasn’t referring to the dress.
The seamstress sweated bullets as she tied off the final strand of beads to my hem. She was foreign, illegal, and barely spoke English—Uncle Max’s idea. No one was going to miss her when the night was over. She nodded enthusiastically, then stepped back, offering me for inspection. He came to me, and I forced my power down. I was getting stronger. And the more fear, the more rage I felt, the more my power grew. I couldn’t let him know that, though. It would be much too dangerous.
Father circled around me as footsteps tiptoed down the hallway outside the room. My stomach wanted to roll. Malcolm and Markus poked their heads in the doorway just as Father shoved his hand down the front of my dress. As he gruffly adjusted my breasts, I knew he’d leave bruises on the flesh under the material. He always did. Markus wore a thinner version of Malcolm’s tux. Nearly twenty now, he was filling out nicely in the shoulders and chest, but he was still a couple of years away from Malcolm’s athletic build. Both had brushed back their hair, ready to play their roles as doting sons for the press that Uncle Max insisted on inviting to these events.
Markus blushed when Father’s fingers momentarily exposed my nipples. Malcolm grinned. He said we can watch, his thoughts sneered as he raked me with his gaze. His dark-blond hair was trimmed to just above his collar. I focused there instead of meeting his eyes. If we’re quiet and impress Father’s guests with the polite conversations that we’ve been practicing, we get to watch what he does to you. Afterward. Markus let a low giggle escape and slapped a hand over his mouth before Father could tell him to shut up.
“It was the only entertainment they ever had,” I said softly, watching their eager eyes through the blood of my dream. “Watching Father punish me—it was what they lived for. They sh
ared his inherent perverse and violent nature. And after those parties, when he would use the whips with the barbs to tear my dress away until I was naked and bloody—it was like a superspecial treat for them.”
The blood in the lake started to wave. My twin still smiled up at me, but the man hovering beside me frowned. “Why are you getting agitated?”
The blood settled a bit as the mansion faded back into the scenery. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Remembering pisses me off, and seeing you makes me remember.”
He considered me for a moment, then waved a hand through the air. “I do not wish to speak of this anymore. I came to visit you.” I rolled my eyes. Even in my dreams my family’s arrogance knew no bounds. “Tell me about this golden power you have growing inside you, Magnolia. You know from where it has come, do you not? Why it is growing stronger?” He talked like Uncle Mallroy sometimes, like he didn’t speak out loud enough to know vernacular English.
“Yes,” I answered. “I know where this power comes from.”
Across the sky Theo’s image appeared. He leaned back against a motorcycle, a tight frown darkening his face. It was exactly the way he’d looked the day I’d left. But unlike other times I’d dreamed of his image, he looked much clearer now. He stood golden and bright against the pink sky.
“It is part of the more inside me,” I explained. “I never realized it was there while I was living on the estate—Father always made sure my powers were as repressed as possible. But now I know better. I am capable of so much more than just hate and rage and pain. I can trust and be trusted. Maybe I can even love.” Theo’s image cocked a half grin at me that I remembered so well, one I was eager to see again.
No Love for the Wicked Page 5
