Fuse

by Angel Payne

  But the hyperventilation doesn’t exhaust me. There’s just more air where that came from, along with heat that sharpens me and pressure that pushes me. Elevates every single one of my physical senses…

  Wow. I mean…seriously…wow.

  As Alex shifts forward, I can hear the scrape of dust beneath his shoes. As he looks up, I can practically count the pores in his skin. As he speaks, even in a strained grate, it’s like someone’s turned the foyer into an amplification chamber.

  “Hey. Welcome home.” He jabs his hands into his front pockets, and I hear the scrape of his fingertips against the change inside one of them. There’s only lint in the other one. I know it because I hear that too. “Sorry that the Welcome Wagon had to be so gloomy.” I also discern every note of regret he’s masking with the light tone. “We worked so fast to rewire everything for the zap to Reece, we somehow took the backup generator offline too. We’re working as fast as we can to untangle everyth—”

  “Whoa.” I mean it as a dictate, not an exclamation. “Hold on.” Then snap my hands to my waist, recognizing every confrontational vibe I’m giving off but can’t seem—or want—to temper. “The zap to Reece? Why? You had to rewire everything of what?”

  Whoa, the silent sequel version. Fidgeting is a fascinating look for Alex, who usually covers discomfort by diving into his theatrical side. But right now, he looks struck by Reece-level lightning as I wait for an answer.

  Which I get from the new arrival to the foyer instead. “The solar panels,” Fershan explains. “We concluded that diverting power directly off them, we could inject Reece with an effect similar to atmospheric ionization…”

  “Only directly in his blood.” Alex has finally forgotten to be awestruck—a good thing, because I’m so fascinated by what they’ve just said, I feel a huge smile forming as Fershan takes over again.

  “Thereby disrupting any radio signals that would be trying to get through to certain electrical viruses.” As he finishes, the guy practically lights up the house with the resplendence of his grin. Still, I can feel him holding back on his pride and joy, deferring more tiptoeing diplomacy to me, which only makes me spin into the same frustrating mix of ire and compassion.

  With a determined breath, I take a conscious stab at the latter. Even try to inch up my lips a little before saying, “Wow. Team Bolt sure leveled up, didn’t they?”

  They snort and then chuckle together.

  “So that’s what we did?” Alex murmurs.

  “Leveled up,” Fersh snorts back. “Yeah. That’s us. The level-uppers.”

  They join in a fit of laughter, giving me a long moment to observe them in full. I can see I played that one right when observing the extra twinkle in Alex’s eyes and the proud blush even on Fersh’s copper skin.

  But I can also see all that. Plainly.

  As if an invisible artist is standing there with a chisel for Wade’s cheeks and a dripping paintbrush for Fersh’s. And now, I can hear the rush of air in and out of both their lungs, betraying the extra happiness I gave them with the sarcastic but meaningful compliment.

  Whoa, yet again.

  What the hell is going on with me?

  I ask myself the question as I turn my focus inward for a long second. The sensation is like the first day of catching a cold, when I wonder if a cold is all it’ll be. I examine each symptom, one by one, in better detail—and start to notice the little things my grief has clouded from me until now. The extra sizzle in all my nerve endings. The light-gold halo that appears whenever I look at anything that gives off electrical energy. Yes, even humans. Especially humans. That was probably an extra reason why the power outage was so jarring to me.

  No.

  Not the power outage.

  The power redirection.

  The power…that’s all still here. Just all in another room.

  In the lab.

  Where they gave Reece back his power. And his ability to be shielded from Faline’s influence so he could come find me. Only to offer himself back over to her because there was nothing I could do to help him. No matter what I’d done or how hard I’d tried, I’d still turned into his anchor instead of his wings. The chink in his gauntlets, fully exploited by the bitch with the Hos-R-Us lifetime membership.

  “Wait.”

  I practically shout it out, making the guys dagger their laughter to a stop and snap their attention to me with sharper conviction. Lydia and Foley turn with nearly the same speed.

  “Oh, my God.”

  But now, my voice is just a rasp. A sound laced with conflict. A lot of conflict. This is the exact mission map I followed before. The same thinking that shut off my logic for the consequences, my consideration for the team, and any sense about how things would turn out if things went wrong and I ended up on Faline’s table, wired to her psychotic whims. Worse, what would happen if Reece came and found me that way and then lost every rational thought in his own damn head about getting me out of there.

  “What is it, baby girl?” Lydia moves back in and gently scoops a hand into mine.

  “Oh.” It’s almost an afterthought, sluiced away on the rush of my breath as understanding continues to rush my brain. “Oh…my God.”

  And in the middle of that same ferocious flood, I’m suddenly thankful for every second of Faline’s electrified hell.

  Because what she did to me is the reason I can stand here, about to ask them to do the same thing.

  “Don’t fix the power.” I lower my hands all the way down, tempted to punch them into fists at the ends of my A-framed arms. I’m ready for this skirmish.

  I think.

  No. I know.

  Nothing else is an option.

  I do this—take the crazy, massive risk of this—or accept a life without Reece in it.

  Not. An. Option.

  And so, it’s this option.

  “Don’t do what?” Fershan rocks his head back, giving away his incredulity.

  I turn and brace my stance again, reconfirming my determination. “You heard me. Leave everything as it is. Plugged into the solar inverters.”

  “Merde.” Angie’s reentrance, with her mouth agog and her eyes wide, is well timed but still useless as a deterrent. “You…you do not seriously think…” she sputters, “that after just a few hours on Faline’s table…”

  “I don’t think,” I snap. “I know.”

  She huffs. “Emma, it is not such a simple process as—”

  I raise a firm finger. “I know, okay?” And reinforce the point with a direct lock of our gazes, reminding her how much I really do know. Like her, I’ve been locked down on Faline’s fun slab. Had that special firsthand view of all the technology and intricacy that goes into altering a human being’s bloodstream. Personally known the horrifying race of my pulse and hammering of my heart. “I know all about it, Angelique—just like I know that it took her weeks or months to transform most of the others, including Reece.” I straighten my spine while sucking in as big a breath as I can. This time, both moves are strictly for me. I need the fortification to state the rest of my case. “But you weren’t there today, when she was with me.”

  Though Alex’s scrutiny tightens the most, it’s Fershan who screws his composure back together first. “What did she do…with you, Emmalina?”

  Alex pushes his lips into a harder line. “What did she do to you?”

  I make sure they watch me pull in a deep, determined breath. I need to make sure they’re clear about what they’re getting into, despite the fact that I’m not really giving them a choice about it. I just need to know they’ll still be the guys who won’t let the lights go out on me at any part of this—no matter how high I scream or how thoroughly I beg them to relieve the torment.

  They have to love me enough to not love me right now.

  I won’t ever stop not forgiving you, Velvet…

  One more deep breath before I continue my explanation. “Faline kept talking about ‘crash coursing’ me,” I tell them. “And I noticed s
he had to keep confirming overrides on the machinery’s limits. Nearly all of my settings were pegged way over what the outputs on those things were set for.” I allow two seconds’ worth of a wince across my face. “If the pain was any indication, she was definitely trying to crash something.”

  “Mon dieu,” Angie utters.

  “So what does that mean?” Alex shifts forward, the corner of his left eye crimping, his open tell of curiosity. “What exactly are you asking us to do that has this one ‘mon dieu’ing on my shoulder?” He uses his right eye to flash a sardonic wink back at Angie.

  Fershan puts both eyes into his reaction, popping them wide in a look that’s either total shock or complete horror. Or maybe—probably—a crazy mash-up of the two. “You think we can channel the power into you—and use it to finish whatever the hell Faline started.”

  “Holy shit.” Alex’s twinge of mirth has vanished—his stare, swung from Angie onto me. “Is that possible, Emma? Did Faline get that much started?”

  I tilt my head, focusing on the rim of gold around his light-chestnut hair. “Depends on what you mean by ‘started.’ Does that lead to the part where everything looks like the gold fairy swung by and sneezed?”

  “Quelle?” Angie’s curiosity is a thick current in her query.

  I jog a glance back at her before explaining, “Exactly what I’m saying it is.” Then return my stare back to the rest of them, still blinking fast as if that’s going to change the view. “All of you have these…halos now. You look like a season finale of Touched by an Angel. Or maybe Supernatural, depending on which season.”

  “My word,” Fershan blurts.

  “Holy fuck,” Alex chokes.

  “No…no.” The exclamation defeating them both is a wrenching sob on the air. Even before Lydia falls into Sawyer’s comforting embrace, I know I haven’t exactly won over my sister’s vote for my plan.

  Not that I’m letting her have one either.

  “Honey.” I step over and rub her back. “I’m so, so sorry.” I issue it from the depths of my heart. “But right now, this is the only plan we’ve got.” I demand it from the steeled grit of my will.

  The resolve that’s going to get me through hell for a second time.

  Because we have to at least try.

  For Reece.

  For the part of me that can’t live without him.

  The part that includes everything except my toenails.

  Wait. Wrong. My toenails need him too.

  So it’s decided. This will happen—if I want to gain the team a fighting chance of stealing Reece back from Faline at all. I have no illusions that any of this is going to be neat or easy, especially with what I’ve just resolved myself to go through again—but my determination rises by matching degrees, pulsing brighter and bolder through my system before flowing over every speck of my vision. The golden outlines continue for me, many of them like dazzling amber crystals—though once again, living things are the most vivid. Because of that, I focus extra hard on Alex and Fersh. They return the scrutiny right away, and in the reflections of their irises, I see why. My mirror image now looks like some crazy new photo filter, its title likely called something like “Lycan Eyes” or “Wild Golden Girl.”

  If adding the flare to my eyes had only been as easy as pushing a button.

  “So…will you guys do it?” I secure a hand around each of their forearms, hoping they see beyond the new weirdness in my gaze, to the supplication and yearning of the woman underneath. “I need this, okay?” I rasp. “I need more than just a fighting chance to get him back. I need to have the advantage over that witch, and we all know it.”

  The desperate, guilty, beyond grieving woman underneath.

  Who has no idea what kind of woman she’ll even be after all this is done.

  Recognizable? Identifiable? Knowable?

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  The words become my mantra, blaring in my head and my heart in time to the terrified throb in my veins, as I follow Alex and Fershan out the front door and back to the lab—their version of a definitive reply to my entreaty.

  I don’t care.

  Pushing away all thoughts of the agony to come as I get up on the lab table and then let Lydia shackle me down.

  I don’t care.

  The words now stand in for others, throughout my spirit and soul, as my body shifts into a mode beyond my control. From head to toe, I shiver from unseen ice. I stutter through uneven breaths. I clench and unclench my trembling hands as my eyes drag open and closed, open and closed, open and closed…

  Before the blast of pure sun scalds my blood.

  And a silent scream of anguish tears past my open lips.

  And my heart shrieks with the words from the only part of me I’ll fight to keep. With everything I am. With everything I ever will be.

  I love you, Reece Richards.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  And I will fight for you—with every damn weapon within my reach.

  Even if I have to become one of them.

  REECE

  Consciousness returns like the parts of a Picasso painting. Cubes of reality and dreams try to piece together in my mind but don’t really look or sound right, forming a whole that isn’t whole. A me that’s not quite me.

  Come back to me, Reece.

  Remember the light…

  But it’s quiet. Too fucking quiet.

  Would the worker bees get that frantic without the queen…

  The queen.

  I gash into the painting with a vicious snarl.

  Only to realize I can’t.

  Not past the rubber bit rammed between my teeth. But even as my rage turns into drool and I recognize the cubes as aching memories, I fight—only to realize I can’t. My arms are locked down, and heavy gloves cover both my hands. My snarl becomes an agonized moan as soon as I comprehend that my legs are buckled down with the same diligence, a lead-enforced strap every few inches, like I’m some circus stuntman on a spinning wheel, waiting for knives to be thrown at me.

  And I suddenly remember. All of it. Where I really am. How I got here.

  Welcome to the freak show.

  The table is a leather-lined slab in a makeshift lab, outfitted with lips of electrodes at either end to fully absorb the brunt of my power should I even dare to try to exercise it. As if I have the strength to. Those nodes are damn good at draining my strength as well as restricting it. This circus’s ringmaster has thought of everything. Could I have expected anything less, considering what she did to get me here?

  Speak of the devil in neoprene.

  Faline struts back into her center ring, having traded out her skintight red number for one of her favorite catsuits. Her pace is neither hurried nor languid, and she clacks her high heels against the concrete floor with a steady mix of the two. Not that it matters. Relaxed or rushed, the woman’s bringing the exact same agony.

  The agony…like this.

  “Unnnhhh!”

  I bite hard into the bit, vowing she won’t get a full scream out of me, as my bloodstream is shot up with a thousand silver bullets of electricity. A thousand points of pain. Liquid energy jolts me, searing and sizzling, burning and brutal, virulent and vile. As my system fights the invasion, I jerk against every lock on my body, and their sickening clanks are swiftly absorbed by the soundproofed walls. Though I weave straining groans between the metallic bursts, it’s the only sound she’ll fucking get from me.

  I breathe through my nose like an overheated bull. Puff out furious air, coating the bit with more of my saliva, while ordering myself past terror and back into full alertness. Passing out right now wouldn’t be pretty. Faline won’t go for something as urbane as Picasso as her alarm clock. She’s more fond of methods that decimate a man’s mind on their way to gouging out his soul. Too bad, so sad, bitch. No matter how strongly I’m compelled to gaze at the edge of the abyss that could be my perfect, numb surrender, she’s not getting anything
but my body for the show this time. The rest of me is spoken for now. For always.

  The witch leans over, injecting an intent stare into me, already seeming to extract that declaration out of my brain—and answering it with a slow extension of her crimson smile. Not that her fresh epiphany is going to change any of her tactics about all this.

  The procedures, along with the equipment, that have definitely changed since the last time I was locked to a table for her.

  That I’m sure I’m about to be reacquainted with. In extreme detail.

  “Comfy, cariño?” She leans over even more, pressing her neoprene-clad curves against my prone and shuddering body. I form new teeth prints into the bit as she kisses my neck—and wraps her hand around my exposed cock.

  And all the power she’s just pumped into my body becomes a massive power surge to my core.

  At once, because I can’t help it, precome jets from my tip. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, hot and scalding, especially as Faline mewls in approval.

  “Ohhh, you magnificent man. That is perfect. Perfect.” She spreads the shit down the length of my shaft, working my erection with expert technique. While she strokes, she goes on in a conversational tone. “You know, Alpha Two, there were so many times when I thought what heaven it would be to simply be your lover. To offer you freedom from the hive for the chance to be the glamour girl on Reece Richards’s arm. We would have been beautiful together, you know. One of the world’s most stunning couples. And every night, you could bury this big, beautiful, electric cock in my tight, juicy cunt, and…”

  She stops for a second, frowning hard. Well, if she thinks talking about fucking her is going to keep me stiff, she’s more delusional than I thought.

  “Well, I am sorry it has to be this way, papi—but now that I am nearly a goddess in my own right”—she flicks out a pinky, giving me another jolt without touching the control board—“and you’ve openly admitted your insipid attachment to that blond peasant, the idea of getting messy with emotions over you has gotten—how do you say?—pedestrian.”