by Angel Lawson
“So you came to spy on us?” Owen asks.
“I came to check out the gym. And keep an eye on you guys. I was aware Astrid was still in the hospital from her injuries.” He looks at her. “Demetria has been very worried about her.”
“Yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I got her flowers.”
“So, you’re what?” I ask. “One of her bodyguards?”
“I’m on her protective detail,” he replies. His lip is split and his tongue darts out to feel it. “But I’m involved with other parts of her business as well. I perform whatever job she wants me to do.”
The glint in Astrid’s eye tells Quinn she thinks Demetria probably has many uses for Draco. Owen coughs his annoyance.
“Did she ask you to come to my gym and beat the shit out of Quinn?”
He looks at Quinn. “No, he asked me to spar. I was minding my own business.”
Quinn shrugs guiltily and defends himself. “I was being friendly.”
Astrid sighs and rubs her face with her hands. “I’m exhausted. The hospital just released me. This is not what I needed to come back to.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says.
She ignores him and glares at Draco. “You don’t get to come in here and assess my business. Or me. Or my friends. You have nothing to do with our arrangement with Demetria. If she wants to talk, then she knows how to get in touch.”
“Actually, she’d like to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. All three of you.”
“Dinner?” Astrid says. “Where?”
“At her house. Tomorrow night.”
So he did come for a reason, and beating the crap out of Quinn wasn’t his primary goal. Just a perk.
“There’s something else,” he says reaching into the pocket of his pants. “This is from me. Not her.”
He reveals a small vial. Inside is a powdery substance.
“What is that?” Owen says. He gives Astrid an uneasy look. “Pixie Dust?”
“A variation, it’s called PD-1. I think you’re aware that if you are using Pixie Dust, it removes the protection you have on one another’s abilities.”
“How do you know that?” Quinn asks.
Draco doesn’t answer. “The R&D department at WIND-E has isolated the chemical that removes that protection. If you inject this powder it will remove the protection for good. Wipe out any recognition. Sort of like a reverse vaccine.”
“Why would we want to use that?” Owen asks. “Why would we take the risk of hurting one another?”
“The lines are getting murky. Don’t think Demetria hasn’t taken this already. The Survivors of Project 12 are popping up all over the place and you don’t know who is a friend and who is an enemy.”
Blaze is the perfect example. No one mentions his name.
Astrid takes the vial and holds it up, looking at the shimmery white substance. “Why are you giving us this, Draco?”
He leans back in his seat. So comfortable, so confident. It’s probably easy to feel that way when you’re built like a Greek god. When he speaks, he looks at Astrid, and Astrid alone. “Because I believe in what you’re doing and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Quinn knows she has more questions. He definitely has a million, but Draco stands and says, “She’ll send a car tomorrow night. Six sharp.” He looks over at him on his way to the door and offers his hand. Quinn blinks for a minute, but takes it. “Best competition I’ve ever had. Thank you.”
He exits, leaving the three of them alone in the room.
“That was fucking weird,” Owen says. “But seriously, do I have to go? I’m not a big fan of dinner with creepy chicks who play with ponies.”
“We’re going,” Astrid says, rubbing her forehead. “But right now, I need my bed, my cat, and a bag of chips.”
Owen jumps up and opens the back door. Quinn does too, it just takes him longer, the ache in his muscles spreading.
“So about that bed thing,” Owen says, “How mad are you going to be if we moved you to the dormitory upstairs?”
“You what?”
“We thought it would be better if we’re all close together.” Quinn stands next to them and adds, “We already moved the cat.”
Owen exhales slowly. “He’s been sleeping on my bed.”
Astrid smiles, then laughs, then pushes past them both to go up to her new room.
“Did you buy any chips?” Owen asks him.
“Three cases.”
They laugh, realizing how much she’s trained them in so little time. It’s a good feeling, one he hasn’t had in many years, and from the expression on Owen’s face, he feels it too.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Astrid
Another night of rest helps, and Astrid feels almost whole when she wakes up the following morning. Quinn, on the other hand, looks like shit.
“Do you need some painkillers?” she asks, going for her morning shot of caffeine. The pastry box on the counter will provide the follow-up hit of sugar.
“Took them,” he says from his seat at the table. He nurses a cup of tea. “It looks worse than it feels.”
She bites down on the powdered doughnut and sits next to him. His eye is bruised, his mouth puffy. She kisses him, leaving a dusting of sugar on his lips.
He licks it off and then kisses her back, gently. “Is this what happens when you pick a fight on a guy three times your size? If so, I may do it more often.”
“I’m not rewarding you for your bravery,” she says, dropping her hand to this thigh. “I feel bad for you because you’re so stupid.”
“Hey!” he says in mock anger. “Not cool.”
“Good thing you’re handsome. And you’ve got those super skills.”
She can’t help but notice his eyes change color when she flirts with him and there goes his heart, kicking in to high gear.
“Are you talking about my, uh,” he swallows, “unique skills or the more, hmm, intimate ones?”
She can’t help but laugh. Quinn is adorable. Not much more experienced than her, but what he does know, he knows well. Like how to quicken her pulse and make her want to get closer. She knows he got in that squabble with Draco over a sense of protectiveness for her. It’s his biggest flaw. It could be worse.
Before she can give Quinn an answer about his skills, footsteps pad down the hall. Owen walks in. His hair sticks up in a thousand directions and he’s shirtless, with cotton pants slung low on his hips. He heads straight for the coffee and says nothing before taking his first sip.
“Morning,” he finally says, rubbing his lower stomach. With a little more space and a sense of the dormitory being for all of them and not just Astrid’s apartment, there’s a new sense of ease in everyone.
“Good morning,” Quinn replies. Astrid can’t keep her eyes off of the well-defined V carving his hips. Quinn’s hand lowers to her thigh. It’s too early in the morning for such conflicting interests.
“How did you sleep?” she asks him.
“Great, until your cat came in and sat on my chest at 3 a.m.”
“I noticed he’d left me.” She shakes her head. “I told you to close the door.”
“I forgot.”
She squeezes Quinn’s hand, a promise to continue their discussion later and stands. “I think we need to spend the day training. For real training.” She digs into her pocket and pulls out the vial Draco gave her yesterday.
“You’re kidding,” says Quinn.
“Nope. Running into Blaze was terrifying and there wasn’t anything I could do. I do think the protection kept him from actually hitting me with the fireballs, but it didn’t stop the place from going up in flames or me being injured. I know by practicing that there is more to my power than I thought. You both must be the same. It’s time to test it. Push our limits. We can’t trust anyone out there but ourselves.”
“And you trust this Draco guy?” Owen asks. “Why? You don’t know him, and his boss is crazy—not to mention our nemesis. She may have sent him to fu
ck with us, Astrid.”
“I do trust him,” she says, although she can’t completely say why. It’s a sense she gets from him. A feeling, and that is the only thing she’s ever been able to rely on. He does seem loyal to Demetria, but that loyalty may mean that she and her teammates need to get better. Do better. “I spent all night thinking about it. The doctors are the ones that made us unable to use our powers against one another, but what I realized is that it limits us. We can’t help one another, either. You can do your thing and I can do mine and we can cobble together a team, but the big stuff, protecting one another—fighting with each other—we can’t do that. I think they added the glitch so that we can’t bind together and fight back.”
Both men absorb this. It’s a big concept, one they’ve never talked about before.
“You may be right. It may just be a handicap but on a personal level it means more for you, psychologically and emotionally. It removes the protection, Astrid,” Quinn says. “That means you can’t turn off your empathy. Ever.”
She knows what he means. During sex she’ll be able to read him. Owen too. She’s thought over every angle. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“As, I don’t know,” Owen says. A line of worry appears between his eyes.
He and Quinn share a look, one that excludes her, and it pisses her off.
“Are you scared I’ll feel something you don’t want me to?” she asks, challenging them both.
“No,” Owen says, holding up his hands. “You read me already and it was fine—good, even. Got us on the same page about a few things, but Quinn is just being logical. All of this is so new, we don’t need you hyper-exposed if you’re not ready.”
She looks at Quinn, wanting to hear his excuse, but the only thing he says is, “You’ve barely had a chance to enjoy it.”
“Then I’ll have to figure out how to control it better, won’t I?” she says, knowing deep down that’s the answer. She also knows she’s not afraid to feel these men, know their hearts. But like every step in her life dealing with her senses, she’s had to face it head on. It doesn’t get more head-on than this.
Owen agrees first. “I’m in. And support whatever decision you make.”
They look at Quinn. His jaw is tight, his heart pounds violently. He’s scared. Of what? Losing her? She’ll prove him wrong. Finally, he nods his agreement.
“Let me go change,” Owen says, grabbing a doughnut and leaving the room.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” she asks Quinn.
“Nope. I can’t answer that the way you want me to.”
“I won’t force you.” She touches his cheek and he winces.
“Promise me you’ll let me know if it’s too much.”
She nods and seals it with a kiss on the lips. It’s the only thing she can offer, and she hopes it’s enough.
*
“Who’s going first?”
The question comes from Casper, who is linked up via a live feed and speaker system in the training room. The guys did it while Astrid was in the hospital.
“The Goblin may want to play video games all day, but he needs to stay in the loop,” Quinn told her later.
Owen winked. “No cameras in the bedrooms, though.” It’s their own going joke now that Casper was holed up with his games, the internet, and a shit-ton of porn.
“I will.”
Owen drinks his shot of soda mixed with the PD-1 Draco gave them quickly and without hesitation. Quinn, to her surprise, does the same. He made a decision. He’s resolved. It’s one of the things she likes about him.
Ironically, she’s the one that has to push every argument, every fear, and every second thought out of her mind.
“You don’t have to do this,” Quinn reminds her.
She doesn’t reply, just takes the shot. Seals her fate. It’s to protect her—protect them all. Her gloves are firmly on her hands. She hasn’t been wearing them around her teammates lately. Her gloves have always provided comfort—now they feel like chains. Hot and confining.
“Let’s get started,” she says, slamming the glass on the counter. Owen holds his hand up and they slap high-fives.
“I’ll go first,” Owen announces, walking to the middle of the room. “I’ve been working on something since my memories started coming back. If I can perfect it, I think it will make what we just did worth it.”
Astrid sits on the counter next to a work sink. Quinn leans next to her, arms crossed.
Owen stands perfectly still. His arms are outstretched and his face is furrowed in concentration. Astrid has no idea what he’s doing; there are no objects to manipulate or alter form. But after a moment she sees it and jabs Quinn in the arm. “Dude,” she whispers, afraid to break his concentration.
The air in front of Owen shimmers. Shifts. He cups his hands over a small area and pulls them apart, like he’s gripping the air with his fingers. The sound of fabric ripping tears through the room. At the very center of the distorted area, a bright dot appears. He holds it for a minute, but then his arms drop, his body drenched in sweat.
“What the hell was that?” Astrid asks, almost afraid to know the answer.
“He fucking ripped open a hole in the universe,” Casper says over the speaker.
“For what? Why?” She asks. Science has never been her thing.
“An escape route,” Owen says. “I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer. And once I get the variables together I can think of where I want us to go, open a portal, and off we go.”
Every muscle in Quinn’s body tenses. Astrid can feel it—him—more than she could before taking the drug.
“You think this is a bad idea?” she asks him.
“No, just, well, a little scary.”
“Tell me about it,” Owen agrees. He raises his hand and a towel stacked on the counter next to Astrid lifts and floats through the hair. He catches it and wipes off his face. It’s an impressive move, but the way his chest heaves is a tell that the activity wore him out.
“So you can not only alter objects and people’s mental perceptions, but physically fuck with time and space.” Casper sounds more impressed than she’s ever heard him.
“I think so,” Owen replies. “And now that we can use our powers with one another, it may be a huge benefit.”
Astrid hands him a bottle of water and looks at Quinn. “You have anything to share with the class?”
He moves to the middle of the room and he looks extra bad ass with the split lip and bruised face. “So you guys got me thinking the last time you experimented. I was able to learn to use my skills when I was younger. At first, I was very dangerous—to myself and anyone else in a five-mile radius. Honestly, there were times I wondered if I was the one that caused the explosion at the group home.” Astrid frowns. “It was possible. An electrical fire or some kind of major surge. I don’t know, but it was enough to make me face my power.”
He pushes his sleeves over his elbows and, similar to Owen, holds his hands out. “The power comes from inside—not just out. I can blow fuses or knock out a transformer with touch, but the current runs in me too.” A charge zaps between his hands, blue and cold. It spreads like a spiderweb of lightning, twisting and alive. Astrid has felt this energy before, but she’s never seen it, and she can’t take her eyes off of the beautiful light. “The idea of protection intrigued me, and I started playing around.”
Quinn moves his hands apart and the current spreads with them. The further they go, the less visible the energy. The charge is still there, raising the hair on her arms. Owen flattens his with his hand.
“Throw something at me,” Quinn says.
Owen doesn’t hesitate and grabs the green bottle of soda and tosses it at Quinn.
“Hey!” Astrid yells, watching her precious drink go flying by. But her outrage is short-lived when the bottle sailing toward Quinn’s face stops in mid-air and bounces back.
“Holy shit,” Casper cackles. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”
&nbs
p; Owen doesn’t hesitate and picks up three more things: a weight ball, a can of disinfectant, and his bottle of water, and rapidly tosses them at Quinn. The lighter two bounce off. The heavier ball actually pushes Quinn back a few inches, but he holds—the shield holds—and the weight falls to the floor with a thud.
His hands drop and it’s obvious from across the room that his arms shake from exhaustion, but there’s the curve of a proud smile on his face.
“That was amazing.”
“Come here,” he says to her, and she walks over. Taking a deep, steadying breath he makes the shield again, this time with Astrid behind it.
“Take your best shot, Owen,” he says.
Owen doesn’t pick up anything, instead he uses his hands and turns the room into a darkened jungle. Vines ripple off his body, twisting across the floor, up the walls and covering the ceiling. Dark smoke fills the room and Astrid feels the hammering of her heart. It all looks so real. Snakes slither toward them and Owen moves his hands, pushing them into an attack. Their jaws widen, their fangs glisten and the hissing echoes in her ears. She knows they aren’t real, but her mind can’t push back. Owen is good, very good, at this manipulation and for the first time she feels the full onslaught of it, mentally as well as physically.
“Fucking snakes,” Quinn mutters and pulse kicks into high gear. “You know they freak me out.”
“Yeah, that’s why I made them,” Owen quips, not the least bit sorry to be challenging Quinn. But what Quinn is experiencing isn’t normal—he usually doesn’t panic, but she feels it rolling off of him and that fear is going to make him fail.
She makes a decision.
Ripping off her gloves, she drops them on the ground, reaching for Quinn’s hands. He wavers for a second, and the shield falls but she says, “Don’t drop it. Hold on.”
He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. Fear races through her. Absolute, terrified panic. She swallows it back and thinks of something good. Something happy, and channels everything she has back on him.
Saving the kid from the fire. The first time he and Astrid spoke. His smile. The ring. Their fight. The way his body feels beneath her hands.