After the two got their seats inside the ferry, and Jane got a large hot chocolate, she allowed her thoughts to turn back to the odd dinner she shared with her parents. Well, it wasn’t really dinner when there wasn’t any food consumed save for the bread. She had only a pretzel with cheese at the Ducks game, but she found with things now calmed down and the ability to actually think about everything that had happened, she wasn’t all that hungry anyway.
Her parents were getting a divorce. What the fuck? She should have seen it coming. In fact, deep down, she knew they were on the verge. They were constantly fighting, constantly at odds with each other. It was how they always were. Jane had no idea how they had survived seventeen years of marriage when they clearly didn’t get along. Did that justify her father cheating on her mother? No. But it also didn’t mean they should have stayed together for such a long period of time just for her sake. Everyone was miserable. Her father needed a reason to leave, her mother knew deep down that this wasn’t the perfect life she had envisioned for herself, and Jane watched the only successful marriage she knew crumble based on lies everyone told themselves. They thought it was the right thing to do, to stay together for her.
But what constituted the right thing? Who dictated that?
Both of them should have been selfish. Her mother should have tried to be more open about everything, tried to compromise more, and her father should have taken what her mother said seriously, should have given her opinion more consideration. There was a lack of communication and respect between the two of them, and this is what everyone ended up with: infidelity, lies, a broken home.
Jane wasn’t sure how she should feel: angry, upset, frustrated, sad. And then she realized she shouldn’t feel anything she wasn’t feeling. There was no right or wrong way to feel. She knew this was a long time coming. She knew this was the best thing for everyone. And now, it finally happened. She sunk back in her chair and took a long sip of the hot liquid. To be honest, she didn’t really feel anything. And maybe that was a good thing.
“Are you all right?”
Depogare’s Southern drawl reminded her that she wasn’t quite alone, and she glanced over at him from the lid of her drink. He didn’t seem concerned, per se, but she knew he was genuinely interested in her response.
“I think so,” she replied. “My parents …” She trailed off, not sure what to say.
“You do not need to explain,” he told her. “Family is sometimes more overwhelming than anything else.”
“Do you have family?” she asked, and then immediately regretted it. Of course he had family. And if he didn’t, he had outlived them all, which made her question all the more insensitive.
“A brother.” His lips curled up, probably at the thought of this mystery brother, and Jane had to smile. “He’s still down in Atlanta.”
“Is he …” She left the question unfinished.
“He’s somethin’.” A pause. “A shifter, but a strong one. Older. Always raisin’ hell. Always gettin’ in trouble. I followed him like he was some kind of god. He always teased me because his power was more physical while mine was more mental. But if anyone messed with me, he was the first to jump in and have something to say about it.”
“Do you still talk?”
“Every now and then. When he needs help with somethin’, like bail or money.”
“Sounds like a winner.”
“He is who he is. There’s no changin’ him. Plus, he took care of me after our parents died. We were on our own for a long while. I ended up here, and he decided to stay down South. He likes it there. Fried food, loose women, easy money.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I try and make an effort to contact him every now and then. If I didn’t, he wouldn’t.”
Jane looked like she was going to say something, but stopped. Instead, she glanced out one of the windows, into the dark sky. “I guess you can’t choose your family, huh?” she muttered, more to herself than to her companion.
“Sometimes family is the only thing you choose,” he replied.
Jane was almost glad both Sophie and Elle had plans that took them away from AckPec this holiday. She was allowed to be alone with her thoughts without the pressure of telling them what had happened, why, and how she felt. As much as she loved her friends, there were times when she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in a book or a night out dancing. Feelings could wait; they could be acknowledged, put away until they sunk into her psyche, and analyzed after a few days, once she had a better grasp of them.
However, just because it was the holidays didn’t mean studies stopped altogether. She had a training session the next evening in Depogare’s classroom. As much as she wished it was just the two of them, Calvin Johnson would be there, too. He was a tall, scrawny guy—the smartest person she knew, and one of the smartest people on the planet; he was only seventeen and already had a doctorate—who couldn’t socialize to save his life. He got on her nerves more than hipsters and cool girls, and she wanted nothing more for him to go away for the holidays. However, besides Depogare, he was the only other known quis, and as such, they had to get along for training purposes.
“Now, in order to differentiate between reading someone’s mind and moving a stagnant object, you must differentiate the energy that goes into it,” Depogare said, standing in front of the classroom, in front of the whiteboard. His eyes kept moving between his two pupils, but they tended to linger longer on Jane. “More mental energy goes into the moving of the object, which seems paradoxical because when you read someone’s mind, you need to break through their walls and barriers in order to get to when they’re most vulnerable … their thoughts. They think their thoughts are safe, but we know better.
“I want to practice breaking through mental barriers today. This should become so natural that it requires almost no effort at all. This way, if you ever have to move objects with your mind after reading a person or a captive’s thoughts, your energy will be up for it.”
“I want to know what Jane did to bring the chandelier down in Ultra,” Calvin stated in his usual, nasal tone. His big, blue eyes looked over at Jane, and they seemed genuinely interested in her answer. “Well? Is Professor Depogare correct? Were you overwhelmed with depleted energy? I heard you fainted, so you must have been. How did you do it? Did you concentrate long enough? Think really hard? Or was it easier than all of that?”
“Mr. Johnson, now is not the appropriate time—”
“Au contraire, Professor,” Calvin said, interrupting the professor. Depogare narrowed his midnight blue eyes at the student, but otherwise kept his usual look of passivity on his face. “Now would be the most appropriate time. Jane did exactly what we’re learning. We both find it easier to read minds. I want to learn how to move stagnant objects with my mind. Practicing something I’ve already perfected seems like a waste of time.”
“Yes, but you do not know how to read a quis’ mind, which is Miss Cabot or mine,” Depogare explained. “You do not know how to read a physical’s mind. It takes much more energy to attempt to do that than it does to read an animus, a physicus, or a shifter’s. Start off slow, build the muscle, and exercise it. If you over do it, you could burn through your energy without any leftover, leaving you vulnerable to attacks.”
“Is that what happened with you?” Calvin asked, looking back at Jane. She started to dig her pencil into the lined paper, but otherwise ignored Calvin’s jib. She knew that he wasn’t intentionally trying to piss her off, didn’t know that her parents dropped a bomb on her last night, but she couldn’t help but feel her annoyance start to burn at his incessant questioning. “You fainted. Did it leave you vulnerable? Is that why you were in the medical wing for so long?”
“Can you just shut up, Calvin?” Jane finally said, rolling her head to the side so her tired green eyes met with his blue ones.
“Well, that’s a little unfair, don’t you think? I’m simply trying to further my education on this subject matter, and since you have direct experience, why not
pick your brain? I want to know your mistakes, your faults, and figure out how to improve upon them. I want to know what you did successfully and try to emulate that. Why is this so wrong?”
“Quite frankly, it’s none of your business,” Jane snapped.
“Jane.” This came from Depogare, who was suddenly standing close to her. He wasn’t touching her, but she knew he would be, if Calvin weren’t here. She knew Depogare was asking her to calm down, would have assisted her had he been able to.
“It is absolutely my business,” Calvin countered.
He didn’t seem to notice the tension that crackled throughout the classroom, but Jane did. Something bad was about to happen if either she didn’t get a grip on herself or Calvin shut his mouth. There was almost no chance the latter was going to happen, so she gripped the side of her desk tight, her knuckles white, her fingerprints smudging the aluminum.
“You and I are the same, Jane. We have the same powers. It’s your responsibility to share your information with both me and Professor Depogare the same way he shares his information and the same way I will once I get some experience. We’re supposed to be the best of what we are. If you don’t share, you’re preventing all of us from being the best.”
“Excuse me?” Jane’s eyes flashed emerald.
“We could be human weapons,” Calvin said seriously. “We have the ability to protect ourselves. Do you recognize the significance of this? You are not allowed to be selfish if your experience could benefit me in some way. It could protect me. Make me better.”
“I don’t want to share my personal issues with you just now,” Jane said through gritted teeth.
“Stop being selfish, Jane. I’m the smartest person I know, but with these talents, my power could equal my intelligence. Tell me what happened that night. Tell me.”
“Shut up.”
The tension suddenly released, picking up Calvin and smashing him against the wall of the classroom. Jane couldn’t tell if the force of the blow knocked him out or not, but she smiled nonetheless. Her eyes found Depogare’s.
“Totally worth it,” she managed to get out before she, too, collapsed.
5
Sophie woke up before the sun did, which was unusual for her. Normally, she had to set two alarms and Jane had to shake her out of her slumber, but for whatever reason, Sophie felt rested enough to emerge from her sleep early. The cabin was pinching cold, and she was almost positive her cheeks were red. She threw on a sweater over her thin pajamas—she wasn’t sure why she decided on a T-shirt and matching shorts. Luckily, the beige sweater was big and warm, and kept the majority of her body from the cold.
She opened her bedroom door and peeked out to check on Will, see if the shifter was up and moving around. When she couldn’t find him, she all but tiptoed into the living room and heard a loud roar. She jumped, nearly tripping over herself, but found the sound coming out of Will’s unconscious body. He was sleeping. The sound was his snoring. She had to press the back of her hand against her face in order to keep herself from laughing out loud. Will sounded like a bear.
But he certainly looked cute while doing so. He wore the wife beater he had worn all day yesterday, which was nothing short of gross but it didn’t look that tacky on his stocky frame. Instead of the jeans he wore, however, she was pleased to see a pair of black pajama pants. His chestnut hair was messy and fell in his face, making him seem … angelic. Speaking of his face, it didn’t look as hard as it normally did when he was awake, and usually yelling at her. It looked open. Peaceful. Vulnerable. He didn’t appear that much older than she was, but when he slept, he looked even younger.
Why did he always have his guard up? Why was his face always jagged and restricting when it could be like this? Why did he want to keep everyone out?
Before she could stop herself, she reached out and brushed some of his hair out of his face. She could feel the dry gel and was surprised at how soft the locks were underneath her fingertips. His breathing shifted, and she held her own breath, worried that she might have woken him up. He was peaceful now, but that might change if she woke him earlier than he needed to be up.
But Will kept his eyes closed and snored once again as though to let Sophie know he still slept. She eased her shoulders back down, her eyes lighting as she was allowed to continue to take him in without any sort of interruption. She even felt herself relax, and took this moment to fully appreciate the fact that she was able to see him this way. She knew he didn’t trust many people, even fewer to feel comfortable enough to fall asleep with. Her heart swelled at this knowledge, and she promised herself she wouldn’t take this for granted.
Her eyes fell to his lips, and she wondered what it might feel like to touch his lips. They didn’t appear as rough as the rest of his body. In fact, they looked soft and inviting, and Sophie could feel her bare toes curl at the sight of them. She knew kissing him would be nothing short of electric.
Get a grip on yourself, a voice chided her. You have a boyfriend, and Will is sleeping. Stop this.
She backed away abruptly, almost falling backwards. She needed something to do. She needed to get away from Will. For now.
But what to do?
She didn’t know the terrain well enough to jog around or hike or explore. And if she paced the length of her room, she’d burn a hole through the wood.
Wood.
She could chop wood!
Sophie paused. Was she actually excited at the prospect of chopping wood? She shook her head at herself; what happened to her?
After returning to her room to throw on a pair of warm, knee-high boots, she looked out her window, hoping to find where Will’s wood chopping station was. Certainly if it was required that he chop wood for fires or to cook food, he already had a place where he could do the task. Her eyes found a tree stump with a large axe protruding out of it and a pile of chopped wood next to it. Had he started chopping after she went to bed last night?
When she walked outside, the air was bitter cold, waking up Sophie even more. She didn’t mind, however. She needed something to shake her thoughts, and the cold plus the action of chopping wood would hopefully do just that.
It was easy to chop wood for her. Being a physical meant she possessed superhuman strength. Apparently, she was a rarity, even among peculiars. As of right now, there was only one other physical known to the peculiar world—a man no one talked about. She had seen him first hand herself, seen the power he had. She also felt herself drawn to him in a way that could only be biological. Sure, he was handsome and had a soft, German accent, and there was an intensity to his pale green eyes, but her heart was solely with … Will.
Sophie picked up the axe and hung it over her shoulder before grabbing a thick tree branch. She placed it on the trunk and started chomping away, letting her thoughts wander.
Will had her. She might have a crush on Jason, might technically be his girlfriend, but her heart was Will’s. It wasn’t fair. It would have been so easy if Will had never been her personal trainer when she had first been placed in AckPec a few months ago. Then, he would have only been her intimidating, cranky instructor, and she wouldn’t have gotten to know him well enough to know the expression he wore when he was worried about her, the way he sounded when he was disappointed in her, the way he looked when she thought he might very well have the same feelings for her … If she didn’t know any of these things, she would have been so happy with Jason, would have been so happy at her increasing popularity.
But Will ruined everything.
She didn’t need him to take her to the woods for her to figure it out, either. She had always known, deep down in her heart, what she felt, who she preferred, what she had to do … If anything, Sophie just wanted time to breathe. Time to relax. Time for herself to enjoy Will without any outside pressure.
“Kid, we need to talk.”
There was that dreaded word again—talk. Didn’t he realize how much damage he could inflict just saying it?
The fact that Will
was standing right behind her didn’t surprise her. He was a shifter, after all, and had the ability to sneak up on prey without them being wise to him. Which just begged the question: was she prey? Did she want to be?
“About what?” She stuck the axe in the stump and finally turned to look at him.
Her heart slowed even though he wore his typical outfit— tight jeans, and motorcycle boots. His hair was disheveled with sleep and his plaid long-sleeved shirt—this one blue—was left unbuttoned, revealing his toned chest and wife beater. His big hands were cupping his belt buckle, as though he didn’t know what else to do with them, the majority of his weight on his right foot.
“Why are you here?” He moved his hands so he could cross his arms over his chest. This only emphasized his arms more so than they already were, even through the wool material.
She gave him a dry look. “Because you invited me,” she said, deadpan.
He rolled his eyes. “Stop being cute,” he told her. “You know what I mean.” A pause, then, “What are we doing?”
“I—” She was about to retort, about to get defensive, when she stopped. What were they doing? “I don’t know.” She tilted her head to the side so her long, red hair pooled over her shoulder. Her skin pricked with cold; how odd that she only started feeling it now. “All I know is that I want to be here with you, which makes no sense because I should want to be with my boyfriend for the holidays, not some prickly, old shifter.” She shrugged her shoulders, looking at him with her sapphire eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Because I want to be with you,” he told her, like it was a fact, like the words weren’t exactly what she needed to hear. “Because in my head, you belong to me and not that boy you’re hanging out with.”
The Stranger Trilogy Box Set Page 30