Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1)

by Arlene Webb

  “Your teeth are sharp. Fingers aren’t broken.” His scowl darkened. “You want me to forget babies and driving. Keep lying, I’ll clean your mouth with my tongue.” He leaned toward Jaylynn over the seat. “Distract me by answering. How many police bother Cleveland? Where can I get at least four guns, right now? Six, if you want to hold one in each hand, too. First, answer why you avoid almost every question I ask.”

  His fingers drummed an impatient sonata on the top of the leather seat. The formidable task of explaining the human race to this aggressive being floored her. Might as well eat before she died. Jaylynn ripped open the crackers, shoved a handful in her mouth, and tried to stifle her laughter. If he only understood how much she’d like to conceive a nonexistent baby, over and over with him.

  No luck keeping the chuckle down. Crackers and giggles spit out, making a mess in the car she accused Wesley of loving more than her. If he could see her now. She lost more crackers as she struggled to snigger and swallow at the same time.

  “That’s disgusting,” Damon barked. “Stop dead stuff coming back out.” He sprang over the seat.

  Stop telling me what to do. Jaylynn opened her mouth at him. Damon drew back, revulsion all over his face. Maybe she should attempt to survive. She closed her mouth and swallowed. Why not live dangerously? She grabbed another cracker.

  “I’ll stop eating with my mouth open,” her giggle escaped, “if you give me that ginger ale.” Jesus, stupid giggles. “Don’t bite the top off. It opens easy, you know.”

  Long, fiery hair floated so pretty, Damon shrugged with disgust. He thrust the green plastic bottle at her. She twisted the cap off and carbonated soda erupted free. Jaylynn shoved her mouth over the bottle top and choked with laughter.

  Damon wiped his face. He flinched at the sticky fluid on his hand. He sniffed, lip curled. “Doesn’t smell nasty. Smells—stupid. Why are you drinking this wrong water?” He stared at the droplets glistening, blood red, on his arm. Then his voice softened with the warning her mercurial warrior went from irritated to deadly, “Will it make you drunk? You’ll hate me again?”

  “What? When’d I ever hate…oh yeah. You did hold me captive.” Jaylynn grabbed his arm. “No, it won’t make me drunk, only silly.”

  His wonderful eyes widened, and his turn to giggle while she licked the moisture off his delicious, warm skin. She dropped his arm and took another swig.

  Those vermillion eyes darkened, lit with bemused aggression. He’d liked her tongue tickling his arm. He leaned closer.

  She gulped and shoved another cracker in her face. He drew back and returned to glaring at her and fidgeting. “Silly Jaylynn, talk to me without crackers in your mouth. Am I the husband now? Ex means dead? Why are you afraid of ex-Wesley if he’s dead? Answer.”

  “No, I won’t answer you. Tell me what happened at the gas station. I assume those men you punched aren’t dead.”

  “They breathe. How come you assume I punched them? I don’t like it when you say no. Why aren’t you afraid of me anymore? How about I start making you afraid?”

  She swallowed another gulp of ginger ale. “Sure, I’ll be afraid if it pleases you. Tell me why Caream hit them, oh never mind. Caream?”

  “I told Damon not to wake you. I know how to put the fuel in.” Caream didn’t look from the road as the car zoomed through the Midwest farmland. “Beautiful Michael was strange, happy, and nice. He helped. I didn’t have to touch the ugly handle. But after you went inside, those two men came out. I didn’t talk because I thought they’d stare even more. They yelled at Michael, moved to close to him, and I hit them. Please don’t be mad.”

  Caream’s lilt sounded strained. Damon grew more and more agitated, and the giddy silliness evaporated from Jaylynn. She rocked forward, her voice gentle. “It’s not your fault, Caream. They stare because you’re so pretty. There isn’t a woman on this planet as attractive as you. But if you keep hitting them, you could kill someone. You want me to drive now?”

  The impatient male beside Jaylynn actually waited for her to finish before exploding. “They think she’s pretty? Are they all crazy here? You drive so slow we could run faster to wherever this Cleveland is.”

  Speaking of Cleveland, what if Malcolm was as difficult as Damon? He sure sounded forceful. And there was the immediate worry. Relentless police, the state of Oklahoma soon to join forces with Arizona and New Mexico. But everything paled, compared to the vibrant male beside her. Maybe if she didn’t look at Damon, he’d settle down. Oh yeah, dream on, girl.

  A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. Damon forced Jaylynn to face him. “Explain why men want Caream. Answer why you’re afraid where my hands move.” He pushed her down on the seat. “Won’t talk? I’ll make you cooperate.” He leaned over her and thrust his hand on the back of the seat—instant destruction. Damon gasped, glared at the damaged seat, his hand, then to her.

  Surprise, lust, anger, lust, fear, and more lust, inhibited Jaylynn’s desire to strangle him. She stared up at him.

  Damon tensed and turned to the bowed seat. “What’s back there?”

  Chapter Thirty

  “Damon, no!” Caream yelled to no avail.

  Two blows pounded metal and leather into the sides of the trunk, causing the forty thousand dollar car to shimmy while they barreled along the expressway.

  “Shut up, Caream.” Damon peered into the trunk. “The light has trouble sneaking in here. Come and see. Wait. Never mind. Keep driving.” He twisted, crawled into the trunk, and came back out. “I still can’t hear Malcolm. Go faster.”

  Jaylynn gaped at the large hole that used to be a seat. “Do you realize how expensive this car is?” She yelped at Damon’s tug. “Stop. I don’t want to go in there.”

  Goddamn Neanderthal.

  Damon dragged her into the darkness, leaving their feet and legs sticking out. “What’s your problem? You should be happy this hidden space is here. Stop squirming.”

  “Me happy? I’m not the one to worry about. I’ll never get this car fixed perfect enough for Wesley.”

  “Then Caream won’t bother helping.” Damon shifted flat onto his back and lifted her on top of him. “If ex doesn’t mean dead, I’ll fix that problem. Bury your Wesley in the ground with his stupid car.”

  Well, that put things in perspective. Maybe saving his life would make up for destroying his property, yet knowing Wesley, he’d still foam at the mouth. Somehow, she’d pay for the repairs. Felonies became exceedingly difficult to care about. A bombardment of stimuli overwhelmed her.

  Sparkles-flame-light—what is he?

  Mortal-moth-insane—what am I?

  Held tight by an iron arm, waves of heat rippled through her back. She lay on an erotic cushion of masculine flesh. Bullets, stab wounds, nothing slowed this creature with crimson eyes to die for.

  “Damon, it’s hard for me to breathe.” Not from lack of air. “I can’t explain everything in two seconds. Could you let me go?” Before I melt into you.

  His brilliant eyes darkened. “Yes I can let go, but I won’t. Be reasonable. You’ve never had a problem yelling at me before. Need air?” Damon entwined his hand in her hair. “I’ll breathe for you.” His lips took hers.

  Jaylynn had a fraction of a second to enjoy what she’d fantasized since she watched Damon step in front of her car the other day. The jolt of fire shot through her, her body convulsed, her face scorched with electric sparks, and her temperature spiked.

  Oh God—it hurts.

  “Stop making your heart cry like that!” She felt strong arms wrap around and lift her. “Jaylynn!”

  “Lay her on the seat.” The drum pounded loud, painful, trying to drown out Caream’s voice. “Put water on her, do something!”

  Crushing, intense pain hammered throughout her constricted chest. I think…I’m dying—but ohh, he kissed me. Brief, unreal, delicious—a flavor worth dying with. Her vision blurred, Jaylynn’s mouth hung open. She felt frothy drops of drool on her chin.

  Damon laid her o
ver on the seat and began massaging her chest. Power flowed against her raging blood. His strokes fought the erratic beat. “Make yourself quiet, Jaylynn, please.” Damon continued to rub over her left breast and stomach and current radiated through her. The frantic bang of her heart began to decrease, mellowing out with his forceful fingers.

  White light? No, not even close. She couldn’t find any tunnel into that particular spectrum of luminosity. Pie in the sky didn’t exist. A heaven of crimson had control of her. Blood-red lines sparkled and surged to create pathways in her mind. Insistent current raged through her veins, and furious red wouldn’t concede to either black or white.

  Waves of pain began to fade. She wished she could see and touch. Oh please, just one more taste of Damon’s light, but her eyes didn’t work, nor would her hands, and no way could she could lift her head.

  Jaylynn could hear Caream’s panicked voice, dim through the rush. “…sounds better, but she’s still not right. Want me to try?”

  “No. I think I did this. Drank her to death.” Hot droplets, certainly tears of crimson, splattered onto Jaylynn’s cheek.

  “Try not to be so afraid,” Caream said. “Don’t stop what you’re doing, but put water on her. Her face shouldn’t be that red.”

  The electric massage continued one-handed over Jaylynn’s chest. Damon shoved a towel under her head. Cool water soothed her blistering cheeks and soaked into her shirt.

  Finally, she cracked her eyes open and the light she longed for swam into focus. His eyes. Those worried, wonderful orbs shone over her, flooded with loving relief. He loves me?

  She pushed a whisper through the rushing noise. “Da…mon…”

  “Stop. Don’t talk. Make your heartbeat normal.” Damon sounded so frightened. “Breathe much air. Make it really okay.”

  Jaylynn relished his arms enclosing her while she drew a shallow breath—oh no, her damn vision lost color—oh yes, wonderful red loomed over her, and dazzling eyes sucked away lackluster gray. At least I die in his arms, his light. He loves me.

  Um, that churning swirl in her stomach really wasn’t good. She ruined the mood by having a heart attack, and now she’d gross him out by puking.

  “You need to shutdown.” Damon brushed a trembling finger over her lips. “The crackers, your never-was baby, nothing’s happy inside you.” He settled her head back against the towel, pulled her legs over his knees, and began massaging again.

  He pressed her dampened shirt against her hot skin. Nausea faded into a layer of exhaustion. Jaylynn’s legs, arms, everything, felt too heavy to move. Ahh, not so for lower muscles clenched with need. His caress of her neck, soothing her breasts, down her stomach—he knew. He wouldn’t go lower, but it didn’t matter. Sparks sizzled straight to her groin while her body betrayed her. Her heartbeat quickened, the blood rush came back to her face.

  His hands froze.

  She forced her eyelids to lift. Dark eyes above her raged with fear.

  Her heavy fingers shook, and Damon took her hand in his while she whispered, “I’m sorry.” Her eyes wouldn’t stay open.

  “No. I’m sorry.” His arms wrapped around her, his growl a lovely murmur in her ear. “Rest. I won’t smash anyone, not even Caream. I won’t drive. Forget that trunk. Try to fix your heart. I think, when I drank you, I broke it. Please, you have to stay breathing on your own. And I have to keep you safe from me…”

  * * *

  Jaylynn’s eyelids fluttered. The dull blanket of fatigue covered her, encouraging her to drift back down, but the nag of the conscious world tugged. She opened her eyes.

  She lay stretched over the seat, her head cushioned. Damon huddled against the door. Pressed into the metal frame, a towel hung over his window. Another blocked the light from Caream’s. The air conditioner had been cranked up, the car temperature cool, and the rush of rubber pounding the pavement slowed.

  “Jaylynn, stay quiet.” Damon stared into the towel, his voice grim. “I don’t know how to fix you anymore. I don’t know many things.”

  “I’m okay,” she mumbled. “We’re stopping? Are we there?” She struggled up. “Do I hear—oh no. Sirens?”

  “Behave.” Damon pushed her down. “If you explode your broken heart, I’ll hit your head. You breathed in shutdown mode for a long time. Sixty-eight minutes. Keep your heart right, or I’ll make you sleep forever, even all the rest of this day.” He released her and flung himself back into the door. “The police don’t come for us.”

  “Maybe if you’d stop bellowing at her, she’ll stay stable,” Caream said. “Jaylynn, what should we do? It’s very scary when you try to die like that.”

  Jaylynn swallowed hard. “I’m not sure what happened, but really, I’m fine now. What’s going on?”

  “A fire called the sirens,” Caream replied. “And no, we didn’t make this one. I know police will be there, but frightened voices cry for help. Damon, show her.” Caream paused then snapped, “Don’t touch the window. I can control it from here.”

  Damon ripped the towel from the opening window. The afternoon light poured in. He lifted Jaylynn onto his knee and gestured up the road. They were in a large city, speeding down a deserted alley in what looked like a warehouse district. A cloud of black smoke rose from one of the run-down buildings. The distinct, arid smell wafted in.

  Jaylynn gasped. “Someone’s trapped in there?” She swallowed hard, caught in red light. Would Damon really knock her out?

  “Last time I tell you. Don’t speed up your heart.” His gaze riveted back to the fire.

  “Voices of little ones cough. The smoke makes it hard for them to breathe. You can’t go in there. I’m afraid to give you air. If we leave you alone, what if you explode again?”

  “Stop worrying about me.” Jaylynn’s nails clawed into his arm. She slid off his lap. “Can you rescue them without being seen?”

  “Yes.” Caream brought the car to an abrupt halt. “Police will never know. But what if you die while we’re gone?”

  “Forget me. Hurry. We can’t park here long.”

  Caream hopped out her door and opened Damon’s.

  Jaylynn pushed him. “Don’t play in the fire, or do anything else stupid. If you can’t save them, get back here as fast as you can.”

  “Don’t you be stupid and blow up. Every breath you take, I’ll hear.” Damon bent so Caream could shove the broken sunglasses on him. “I won’t promise to hide anymore. Be careful of your broken heart, and I’ll be careful not to kill. You die; every mean police I find will join you.”

  The air swirled empty where color stood a second ago. In less than four seconds, Jaylynn could no longer see them. Flames flared out the broken windows and black smoke thickened.

  Any minute now a firefighter could ask why she’d parked in this private alley, driving a technically stolen, seat smashed out, BMW with New Mexico plates. She didn’t even know what state they were in. But how could they ignore whoever was in that horrible inferno? Children in an abandoned building? Perhaps runaways, young enough to breathe like a child.

  Her worry made Jaylynn feel more ill, and it wasn’t only lack of food and stress. Drained, her head throbbed. She couldn’t afford to sleep the day away. Not when tornado twins had infiltrated Earth. Maybe she could walk off the exhaustion. Jaylynn got out of the car and proceeded to move one clunking step at a time. Firefighters must be on the other side of the building.

  She didn’t wear a watch, but it seemed like a blur of only a few hours since they left Arizona. In the olden days of last week, she used her cell to track time. Back when she had it together to charge the phone, minus a demonic thumbprint, and she wasn’t on the lam, wanted in two states, probably three, working on the fourth.

  She stiffened and turned toward the crunch of wheels behind her. Another confrontation in whatever state this was approached right now. Damn. Couldn’t they get the slightest break? Fifty feet from the BMW, Jaylynn had been a safe distance from the building.

  She hurried her return pace as t
he officer exited her patrol car. Jaylynn looked at the woman, avoiding evasive eye movement. The fit looking brunette was in her late twenties and dressed in impeccable blues.

  Without a smile or a hello the officer asked, “Ma’am, what are you doing here? This your vehicle?”

  “My husband’s. I’m waiting for him.”

  “I need to see license, registration, proof of insurance. Where’d your husband go?”

  “He belongs to the Fire Marshall Squad in Albuquerque. If you want to talk to him, he’s probably holding a hose. Story of my life. We’re supposed to be somewhere, and he loves playing the hero.”

  The officer looked her over, but didn’t state the obvious. Life’s wringer had left a wicked bruise on Jaylynn’s face, her hair a disheveled mop, clothes rumpled like she’d swam in them, and any attempt at makeup long gone.

  “Your license?”

  “I’m not allowed to drive.” Jaylynn swallowed her giggle at the irony. “What’s wrong? I’m not breaking the law, am I?” She paused and continued, “Any idea what it’s like dealing with a guy who’ll never grow up? Thinks he’s Peter Pan? Certainly like being married to a cop playing with robbers, so maybe you do know.”

  The policewoman thawed. She almost smiled, but then she had to step closer. The officer stopped dead to take in the damage. The expensive leather seat bore the mark of a fist. Specks of beige foam littered the floorboard. The seat’s back was bent and crushed to each side. The cold look returned. “Ma’am, I want some ID.”

  “Sure, I’ll get my purse. I can explain the car.” The woman stepped aside while Jaylynn moved to open the door. Would a computer bring up “most wanted,” tagged with shoot to kill? No way could she give her ID to…the officer whose jaw dropped.

  Goddammit. The woman reached for her holstered gun. Jaylynn held her breath and turned to face the reason why.

  Less than twenty feet away, Damon held his tattered shirt out from his chest. The bandage, visible around his waist, made Jaylynn forget her fear for the cop about to clash with unreality. Fresh bright leakage stained the white gauze.