Starborn (The Order of Orion Book 1)

by Samantha Jane

  Then an image of him with Serena popped into her head. She turned over trying to get comfortable and banish the image of his naked form. The visuals only intensified. His strong, muscular legs. His tight, hard ass. His bronzed back marred by horrific scars. Her chest tightened as she thought of the scars that had covered almost every inch of his skin, from his shoulders to his lower back. Cigarette burns, long lacerations and indeterminate injuries long ago healed. Serena could be mind-fucking her, but she didn’t think so. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t sleep. The pain he must have suffered. The agony.

  “Lucas?” she whispered into the darkness.

  “Yes?” His deep voice lacked any sleepiness and she knew he too must have been lying awake thinking.

  Of what, she wasn’t sure. But it was satisfying to know he couldn’t sleep either.

  “Serena showed me an image of you…without your clothes…” she trailed off, uncertain what to say.

  “And?” he said dryly.

  She was glad the dark hid the heat burning her cheeks. “Your back,” she pushed on. “There were scars...terrible scars.”

  Silence stretched through the room.

  “Are they real?”

  “Yes.”

  “They were from before The Order?”

  “Yes,” he said with a rawness to his voice that made her heart ache.

  “Tell me about it,” she whispered.

  “It was long ago. Another life.”

  “Please? Help me understand why you’ve chosen this life? Why you follow these orders? Why you choose to stay here?”

  All of a sudden, knowing his history seemed more important than finding answers about her future.

  19

  Lucas

  Lucas knew what Willow was asking of him. She wanted him to drop his shield—not his Mercurian one, but the impenetrable one he’d erected around his inner self. The one that kept him safe from making connections, from making a future. The one that had been crumbling ever since he’d met her. From the beginning he’d known she’d falsely believed him to be a knight in shining armor. Had known that she’d find out one day that it wasn't true. His chest tightened. He would never forget the look of betrayal she’d given him when Serena had divulged the kill order. He’d felt sick, which was ludicrous. It was part of his job. His duty. His life. But Willow Trilby turned everything upside.

  And now here she was offering an olive branch—trying to understand him, trying to give him a chance to explain.

  “Lucas?”

  He could shut her down, tell her to go to sleep. Or he could do something he’d long been avoiding—talk about his past.

  He took a deep breath, and in the dark, his story tumbled out.

  “When I was fifteen my family had a terrible car accident. My father was killed, and my younger brother, Danny, was injured badly…I didn’t get a scratch. Afterward my mother struggled to look after Danny and a teenager that went off the rails. I was a handful, acting out as teenagers do, but memories of the accident tormented me.”

  “That’s terrible…I’m so sorry.”

  Her compassion made it hard to continue. Even in the safety of the room’s darkness, he felt exposed, but he pushed on. “Flashbacks attacked my mind. I couldn’t escape from them no matter how much I tried. At first, I thought it was a reaction to the trauma. I’d been given a bunch of hospital handouts and had read about it.”

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder?” Willow wondered aloud.

  He allowed himself a small smile. “It might have been, Doctor Trilby, if it had been my memories I was recalling.” At the remembered pain, his smiled disappeared. “I had one recurring image—my father hitting the windscreen. It was from behind his seat, Danny’s view. It couldn’t have been my own, because I was driving. I had gotten my license the day before...” He broke off, trying to get his bearings, wanting to stop the fucking train of emotion taking him to a place he didn’t want to go.

  “No...” He heard her sit up and he hoped to God she stayed there. He couldn’t deal with the pity in her voice, let alone the possibility of her comforting touch.

  When she stayed on the futon, he continued his story. “For weeks and then months, I was plagued by other people’s memories. It was disorientating and I withdrew from family and any friends I had. I avoided people, hoping not to be assaulted by their memories. My mother was worried, but I couldn’t burden her with more worry…she struggled so much without my father.” He ran his hand along the cotton sheet of his bed, feeling the coarseness and trying to anchor himself to the now, rather than be pulled back into his past.

  “It must have been awful. So confusing.”

  He couldn’t reply. Couldn’t speak. Blood pounded in his ears. Why the hell was he telling her all this? Out of guilt? To gain her trust so she’d conform to The Order’s rules? Deep down though, he knew there was more. He wanted to unburden himself, needed the release of sharing with another.

  “Lucas?” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

  He concentrated on keeping his voice steady. “One day I woke up in my classroom to find my teacher and my classmates disorientated and frightened. I had passed out from the onslaught of their memories and had inadvertently wiped them. Wiped every memory they had ever had. Wiped who they had been, who they were…”

  “You didn’t do it on purpose. It was out of your control.” Her logic was faultless, but still, after more than a decade, it ate at his insides.

  He stared into the dark and remembered his classmates, his friends, his teacher—all innocent victims of his power.

  “What happened then?” she prompted.

  More innocent victims because of me.

  “It was a media circus. Medical staff poked and prodded me, trying to work out why I had been immune. They found nothing, and I told them nothing. But it didn’t matter.” He hated that his voice sounded bitter, that it was still so hard to talk about even after all these years.

  When he didn’t continue, Willow whispered, “It’s okay, take your time.”

  “A newspaper article signed my family’s death warrant.” He took a ragged breath. “Noctem saw the article and knew I was a Starborn coming into my powers. They hunted my family down and we were taken from our home at gunpoint. Danny was only twelve.” He gripped the sheet, fisted it, and tried to steady himself. Blood pounded in his ears. He blinked rapidly, thankful for the darkness.

  “Oh, Lucas…”

  He sensed her trying to reach out metaphysically. It was unpracticed and blunt in her attempt, but incredibly sweet. For a moment, he was tempted to let down his shield to accept her warmth, but he focused instead on getting the story out, wanting her to know it, wanting her to know him.

  “They wanted me to do things. Wipe the memories of others after crimes, retaliation memory wipes to rival gang leaders, mass wipes to bring on chaos and confusion so they could carry out illegal activities. At first I resisted…”

  “Is that how you got your scars on your back?”

  “I would have gladly taken more if it had kept my family from harm. But after their torture of me yielded little, they tortured them. My mother and my baby brother. Did things no one should do to another person. Knives, fire, water—they used anything that could inflict harm. All to control me. I soon stepped in line and did things I’m not proud of. Wiped people’s minds. Wiped their past. Wiped their identities. Wiped their futures.” His stomach curdled with the memories—the commuter train he’d eventually been pressured to derail, the one hundred and twenty people he’d killed as a result.

  “Anyone would have done the same,” she said gently.

  He wanted to stop talking. Stop remembering. But it flowed unchecked, like blood pouring from a slashed vein. “It was all for nothing. Even when I assimilated into Noctem, they continued to torture my little brother, rape my mother.”

  Her soft gasp echoed across the darkened room, but he continued, unable to stop. “You see, it was to traumatize me and make my po
wer grow exponentially. And once my ability plateaued, they executed my family to further traumatize me and increase my power.”

  “Oh, Lucas, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you.” The kindness in her voice nearly killed him and he took a steadying breath. “I ran away a few times, but they always found me. And then I gave up on running. It wasn’t until The Order found me separated from Noctem that I was given a chance. They recruited me. Freed me from those bastards.”

  The murderers of his mother and brother were long dead. Killed by him and other Starborn in the military team. The Order did not actively seek war with Noctem or other rogue groups, but they took opportunities when they arose. He’d taken his revenge when they had encountered the group during a collection order. Afterward, he hadn’t felt satisfied, only hollow. Empty. Now these old feelings were raw again. “There are much worse things out there than The Order of Orion, Willow. You must make yourself strong. Take the opportunity The Order is giving you. Grasp it with both hands so you never need to look back with regret.”

  He took a shuddering breath and waited for her response. Silence stretched.

  He looked to the futon and saw her silhouette—she sat up in the bed with her arms wrapped around herself. He pushed away an image of her holding him in those arms, of him seeking comfort. Fuck. He was losing his mind.

  Finally she spoke. “Then help me. Teach me how to become the strongest Mercurian I can. I don’t want to be powerless at the hands of other Starborn, like Noctem or like Serena.”

  He released a slow breath before answering. “Trust me, Serena’s games are child’s play.” Embarrassed at the wildness of his emotions and anxious that she might be able to sense them despite his shield, he shut the conversation down. “Enough of hearing my sob story. Let’s get some sleep. You have training in the morning.”

  Hours later, he woke up like a bear with a sore head. Sleep had been next to nonexistent and when he had slept, he’d been plagued with dreams of his family. After he made coffee, he walked over to a still sleeping Willow and tossed a neophyte gym outfit on to the futon. Against his better judgment he didn’t wake her straight away. She looked peaceful, without a care, as she snuggled a damn pillow. Sometime in the night she had undressed and now wore only her singlet and underwear. She had kicked off the covers and he tried not to look at her delightfully bare legs.

  He growled for her to wake up. When she didn’t wake up, he called out more loudly, “Willow.”

  She stirred and pushed a mess of long red hair off her face as she opened her eyes.

  He motioned to the gym outfit. “You’ve got five minutes before we head to the gym.”

  She stretched out her hands and yawned as she sat up. He turned quickly away from her and her pert breasts. When she walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, she slowed to appreciate the smell of the strong coffee. He nodded to the mug on the dining table.

  She sat and took a sip. “Thank you for telling me about your past last night” she said, with a tentative smile.

  He didn’t return her warmth, his mind warning him against the connection building between them. He’d never spoken of his past to anyone, and he needed to refocus or he would become ensnared in something he’d been trying to avoid for years. Watching her eat didn’t help. As she licked her lips appreciatively from breakfast, the touch and taste of her lips from last night’s kiss slammed into his mind.

  So much for refocusing.

  “Drink up. We need to get to the gym for physical training,” he said harshly.

  The fleeting look of hurt in her eyes told him it was for the best. Within a few minutes they were at the Sanctuary gym where the other neophytes and mentors waited. The neophytes underwent an hour long fitness assessment, and he wasn’t surprised when Willow nearly performed as well as the one time basketball star Gabriel. She was rotated onto the treadmill first, and he began to jog by her side. After thirty minutes, she showed little sign of exertion. Gym gear for the Starborn female recruits consisted of a red singlet top and Lycra shorts. She had pulled a face when she came out wearing them, but hadn’t complained. He had no complaints either, taking a sidelong glance at her as she powered along the treadmill. Sweat glistened on her skin, and she wore a look of absolute concentration.

  He scanned the room to see how the other neophytes fared. Gabriel was enjoying himself as he lifted weights under Lani’s supervision. The same couldn’t be said for Paige, who struggled with sit-ups despite Granger trying his best to encourage her. Isobel’s mentor, Juliette, instructed her in defensive martial arts, while Tyler tried a form of Starborn yoga. Each day this week the neophytes would spend a significant amount of time in the gym, rotating through each station. A deep connection between mind, body and spirit was necessary to achieve ascendancy, but it also helped Starborn to control their abilities. The Order expected peak physical condition from all its members including sleeper Starborn who chose to live in the outside world and hide their abilities.

  Willow neared the one hour mark and he ended their run for a break. They said little as they rehydrated and caught their breath. The next rotation for Willow was self-defense. He was unwilling to admit that he was eager to start. She was experienced in self-defense and there would likely be a lot of physical contact. He was going to need a hell of a lot of self-control to take Willow through the basic maneuvers like he would any neophyte. Within a few minutes he was again reminded that she wasn’t like any neophyte he’d encountered. They both heaved with exertion as she matched him, move for move, block for block, and strike for strike. She was quick and light on her feet, despite her height.

  “You’re good,” he admitted.

  “Surprised?”

  She took her best shot at his jaw. He sidestepped easily and she grumbled with frustration.

  He shook his head. “No, you’ve facilitated self-defense classes at the University of British Columbia for women and men.”

  “Ah, more intel from your stalking exploits.”

  He didn’t answer, but focused on blocking another strike of hers—it brushed his cheek by the barest of margins and he nodded at her look of determination.

  “Get him, Doc,” urged Granger, who had stopped what he was doing to watch them spar. “He needs a come down.”

  “Ignore him,” Lucas growled.

  On her next attack he turned sideways, grabbing her arm. She stumbled and he grabbed her from behind to pull her up against him. She struggled, but he held her in a firm grip.

  “Come on, Doc, you can get out of it. Don’t let him win,” said Granger.

  But Lucas wasn’t listening to Granger, his whole concentration centered on her delectable bottom squirming up against him as she tried to get out of his hold. The rest of the world fell away until Willow dropped her weight downward and elbowed him in the ribcage. He let go with a grunt. She rotated out of his hold and attacked him with her right knee. Clapping sounded from behind them and he motioned her to stop.

  “Good work,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Now, let’s look at what to do if an attacker has you pinned down on the ground. Like any ordinary, Starborn are most vulnerable when sleeping, so you need to be skilled in how to get out of this position.” He gestured for her to lie on her back on the blue gym mat. Jesus Christ. How was he going to keep his mind out of the gutter? Control his body when she was so near? He questioned his motives and judgment for all of a few seconds before continuing. “I’m going to pin you down as though I’ve attacked you in your bedroom.”

  She looked up at him, the red gym T-shirt pulling tightly across her breasts and he knew he needed a bucket of ice poured over his head if he was going to be able to do this professionally. He’d helped out with defensive training in the Sanctuary for years, and never before had he been so distracted.

  Moving to his knees, he straddled her across the hips. Granger shouted out catcalls and suddenly he and Willow were the center of attention. Lucas frowned at Granger, but he’d started the maneuver—st
opping now would only make it worse. Her eyes flashed brightly as she gazed up at him. Reluctantly, he put his hands gently around her throat, her skin warm and delicate. He swallowed hard. “Okay, go.”

  At first she tried to strike his throat, but he was easily able to move away and miss those hits. Gripping his wrists she then tried to pull him off her, but he easily resisted her efforts. Willow stopped struggling and panted from the exertion of trying to free herself. Suddenly, a smile curved across her face and then she moved against his groin. Lust shot through him. She moved her hips again, this time more suggestively. Biology took over and his mind went blank. She grabbed his right wrist and elbow, and then hooked her legs around his right leg. One minute he was on top, the next she had rolled him over and was smiling triumphantly. As she stared down at him, her blue eyes sparkled with delight.

  He didn’t want to take the moment from her, but he reminded himself it was his job to teach her how to be safe. He grabbed her shoulders and flipped her over his body. Pressing down against her chest, he pinned her to the mat, their faces mere inches apart. She cried out in frustration and struggled against him. After a few minutes of wriggling that would tempt a saint, she slumped back against the mat.

  Her energy spent, but her mood was far from docile. “Get. Off. Me.”

  He stood and held his hand down to her as a peace offering. Begrudgingly, she placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Granger clapped with a knowing look and Lucas had the ever present urge to punch him. Instead, Lucas turned to Willow. “Use what you have, but don’t rely on it.”