Lightning Strikes: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Storm Book 1)

by Ripley Proserpina

  “I see you when I look at you, Dante,” I replied. “You’re more than the sum of your parts.” I walked toward him, keeping my eyes on his as I reached him. He didn’t make a move as I placed my hands on his shoulders and stood on my tiptoes. “You’re really tall,” I said quietly and urged him a little closer. When he was low enough, I kissed the cool metal of his chin. “And I like all your pieces.”

  He stared at me, eyes glowing like coals in a fire. “Whitlee.” His tone was yearning and called up my own desire.

  “This…” John interrupted. “Right here, the PDAs, unless they’re mine, it doesn’t work for me.”

  Dante glared over my head. “I’m not living my life to make you comfortable.”

  “Well, I’m not willing to be uncomfortable,” John retorted.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I interjected before things got too heated. “This is your home.”

  “For now,” Isaiah muttered.

  “Zero is as much mine as it is yours,” John said.

  “No, John. Zero is all of ours.” Isaiah crossed his arms. “And it’s what we make it. If it’s a free-for-all, then that’s what it is. If it’s a quiet retreat, then it’s that. And if it’s a fucking war zone, then it’s a war zone. But you don’t get to dictate the terms of living here.”

  “So I’m supposed to go if I don’t like it?” John raked a hand through his dark hair. Despite running through the woods and the rain, he still managed to remain put together. It was only now, discussing relationships with his brother, that he lost the patina of sophistication.

  “Do what you want, John.”

  “You want me to leave?” He watched Isaiah closely, but I saw the minute Isaiah’s walls came down. I couldn’t let them push John out.

  “No.” My voice was firm. “I don’t want you to go, John. I’ll leave before I take away your safe place.”

  He stared at me like he’d forgotten I’d existed, and for those minutes when he and Isaiah were locked in a battle I didn’t understand, I probably had. But now, he studied the room and the men who were his friends before he faced his brother again. “What do you want me to do, Isaiah?”

  “Isaiah.” Brandon grasped his arm to get his attention. “You’ve been in denial too long, man. It’s time to admit to yourself that Zero is yours. And John’s. Ask anyone here, where do they go when they have a problem?”

  Isaiah’s gaze flicked toward the other guys before going back to Brandon.

  “We come to you,” Dante said. “And if we need someone to make a decision?”

  “We go to John,” Carson announced.

  “Instead of dragging each other down, you should be building each other up,” Brandon said.

  “Thank you. Is this therapy now?” John snapped. “Look. Do what you want. I’m not participating in this nonsense. You all want to have some sort of zombie ménage or whatever? I’m not interested in participating. Whit, you and I can be friends.”

  I nodded. “I’d love to be friends. That’s really what I’m looking for. Friends and family.”

  John sat down in a chair. “Let’s all go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  I nodded, a little euphoric at the idea they were alive enough to need sleep. Carson took my hand. “This way, Whit.”

  I loved how almost all of them had adopted Brandon’s nickname for me. It seemed natural. Of course, Dante had his own take on it, which I adored. It made me feel special.

  I let Carson lead me away. He’d been angry. Maybe we needed to talk some more. Dante’s bedroom was quiet. He motioned toward the bed, and even though I was still damp, I crawled into it, unsure if I was going to be able to sleep. So much had happened. I didn’t know if I’d be able to turn my mind off.

  I turned to tell Carson this when Isaiah followed us in. He didn’t say anything but crawled into the bed next to me as Carson did the same. I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d never shared a bed with anyone before Brandon. Now I had two people, who should be strangers, getting into bed as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

  Isaiah put his hand on my arm. “Don’t worry about John. He has trouble with change. He’ll come around.”

  I sighed in the darkness. “This whole thing is a lot. I won’t force anyone to be with me. Honestly, I don’t even understand it. And you’d think this wouldn’t appeal to me. It shouldn’t. I know that. I mean, I’m not really anything all that interesting. And I’m not saying that to make you compliment me. I’m a normal girl and there are a lot more beautiful, talented, worthy, smart women who would be worthy of a group of amazing guys like you.”

  Carson leaned up on his elbow. “I think you need to understand that you brought us back to life, and so to us, you’re always going to be extraordinary.”

  I shook my head. “Extraordinary is too much pressure. Don’t make me that.”

  “What would you have me make you?”

  “Just Whitney.” I shrugged. “I can’t be more than I am. This here?” I gestured to myself. “What you see is what you get.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Isaiah said. It was difficult to have a conversation with two guys on either side of me. I was surrounded. “I’ve existed for ten years this way, but it wasn’t until you came to Zero that my heart beat. That means something.”

  “It wouldn’t happen with anyone else,” Carson added. He trailed his finger down my nose and bopped me. “I know that much.”

  “Dante said there were no women here. Maybe I just look good when your option has been no one.”

  Isaiah chuckled, looking over at me to Carson. “I thought you said you didn’t fish for compliments.”

  “I don’t!” I said, offended.

  “You really believe you’re nothing special?” Isaiah asked. He stared at me, studying my face.

  If they’d known how I’d grown up, they’d understand. From the moment my father saw what his words could do, he’d used them to hurt me. In the years before the Infection, I’d taken those words to heart and believed them, and it had shaped me.

  Brandon had helped. In fact, Brandon was the one who helped me trudge through my father’s lies in order to find who I truly was. It was moments like this, though, that I realized I still held onto those self-doubts.

  Carson grabbed my hand and brought it to his chest. Beneath his t-shirt, his heart beat a steady rhythm. “You did this.”

  “You don’t know for sure,” I replied.

  “I do.” He didn’t look away from me but stood up. He grabbed the edge of his shirt, and then lifted it over his head. “Look.”

  Uh. Yeah, I was looking, all right. Carson’s sculpted body was cast in shadows in the dim light, but I could see enough to make out the ripples of the muscles of his abdomen. His pants hung low on his waist, and as he tossed the shirt away, his biceps flexed.

  He dragged one hand across his chest. “See?” he said, staring down at himself.

  “Here,” Isaiah said, and flipped on a light next to the bed.

  “Oh!” I said on a breath. I knee-walked to him. He’d been injured in the fight with the Controlled, but his wound was healing. Painful-looking, the skin along the stitches had scabbed.

  “Before, Dante stitched us together or packed a wound with cotton until he could figure something out. But this is healing, Whit.”

  “You think I’m the reason this is happening?” Without thinking, I touched a spot near the wound. The skin paled beneath the pads of my fingers and then pinked when I jerked it back.

  “Circulation,” Isaiah observed. “Our bodies are healing what they can.”

  “Does it hurt?” I asked.

  Carson laughed. “It does. I haven’t felt anything, Whitney. And now this itches, and you touch me and—” He stopped.

  “And what?” Needing him to go on, I lifted my gaze to his.

  “And I feel desire.” His face heated. “And embarrassment.” Glancing away, he shook his head. “Come on. You need sleep.”

&nbs
p; I snuggled down into the bed, not exactly sure where to put myself. How did someone sleep with two people? But as the rain hit the roof above our head and the warmth of the waking bodies of both Carson and Isaiah made me comfortable, I did drift into sleep.

  I walked into a circle, surrounded by the guys again and looked around. I knew this place. I’d been here the last time I fell asleep. Everyone met my gaze, even John, although wariness shone through his eyes, as though he worried I might be angry with him. How did I know that so well?

  Dante shook his head. “I’m the only one who remembers this when we wake up.”

  Isaiah answered him. “Why not say something then? I’m sure I’d like to hear it. I’m sure Whit would, and it might be very helpful to John over there who is about to screw the whole thing up.”

  “I’ve accepted it as happening, as being a natural progression of whatever this is. The infection… I imagine it’s done something to the limbic system. When we died, our consciousness and therefore our bodies sought out and found a willing host to keep us. In that case it was Dexter. But that was an unhappy, hostile environment.” Dante winced. I reached out to touch him. He was saying things about my brother that were uncomfortable to hear. That didn’t mean I didn’t need to hear them. “It’s the same way a newborn is mentally connected to his or her mother for a while. Then we freed ourselves, and our bodies started failing. The infection is real. We need a carrier to keep us together, to help our physical state to heal from what happened. Whitney has the same abilities as Dex. Maybe a portion of every population can do what they do. Maybe we’d know that if communication with other places wasn’t gone. Maybe… I don’t have all the answers yet. But when the lightning struck, we reached for Whitney. And though she was asleep, she heard us ask for help, so she did.”

  John looked away. “That doesn’t change the romance. I’m just not sure I can do all of us linked to her that way.”

  “You don’t have to be.” I meant that. “Maybe all this linking meant I immediately fell for all of you because we’re connected and it just… happened. But if you don’t feel that way for me, John, then don’t feel that way. I just want to be friends. Can we be that much?”

  He sighed. “Whit, I’m not saying that I…” John stopped speaking. “Something is wrong. I…” He looked around. “The Controlled are here. They’re here. Everyone, wake up. Wake. Up.”

  I gasped, sitting up in the bed, my pulse in my ears. What was wrong? I couldn’t remember. The fog of a dream already gone lifted, and I strained to listen to the world around me.

  Something slammed into the door, and it suddenly flew open, banging against the wall. Isaiah and Carson bolted upright.

  “The Controlled.” John’s face was pale and drawn. “They’ve figured it out, how to get in. Hurry.”

  Isaiah and Carson leapt from the bed, and I followed them. “Do we fight?” I asked. “Are there weapons?”

  “You don’t,” John said.

  “Bullshit,” I replied. “I might not be a guard, or especially talented, but I can hit a skull with a bat.”

  John winced. The other guys were waiting for us. It struck me, as I studied them, they were alive now. What would that mean when they fought?

  What would that mean if they died?

  Brandon grabbed his head. “We need to get out there. Something—someone—is pushing against my head. Trying to get inside.”

  The door shook in its frame. “It’ll hold,” John assured me when I grabbed a nearby metal lamp. “You won’t need to use—”

  He wasn’t able to finish the thought because the door broke inward and Controlled streamed through the door. I’d never seen them move so fast or so uniformly.

  The guys fought, and I slammed my lamp against one head after the next, but there seemed to be hundreds of them.

  And they weren’t biting. They were swarming. Dante hacked at them and body parts flew in all directions. The Controlled felt nothing, and even when their legs were gone, they still pushed forward, dragging themselves by their fingers. And if those were gone, on stumps.

  The guys surrounded me, but eventually, the sheer number of Controlled split them. Brandon was grabbed and yanked forward, and I screamed.

  I couldn’t watch him die again. I couldn’t.

  Leaping into the fray, I swung my lamp wildly, hoping to connect with something. All the while, I searched for him. “Brandon!”

  His blond head was visible, and I screamed in frustration when he disappeared from sight. Hands gripped me, but I fought them. I used my elbows, my legs, anything to break the hold of the Controlled.

  It was then it hit me. The Controlled were attacking, but they weren’t feeding. Their hands clutched and grasped at me, but they didn’t try to bite.

  The idea shocked me motionless. A Controlled grabbed my sleeve, holding tightly, but not pulling. Its face was eaten away in places, gaping to show teeth and muscles, and its eyes rolled wildly in its sockets.

  Sickly fascinated, I saw its tongue grope inside its mouth. “Whitney.”

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Did I know this Controlled? Was this a friend? I studied it, trying to see past the gore and rot. “Whitney,” it said again. “These are mine. Give them back.” The words were garbled and inarticulate, but I could understand them.

  “Dex,” I whispered, staring at the Controlled.

  One side of its mouth lifted in a twisted version of a smile. “See what I can do, Whit Whit? Aren’t you proud of me?”

  “Whitlee!” Another hand grabbed me and my sleeve ripped. The Controlled didn’t come after me as Dante pulled me away and then behind him. “Did it bite you?” He had to yell to be heard over the groans.

  “No,” I replied. “But Brandon. They took Brandon.”

  I tried to find him, standing on my tiptoes, but Dante was too tall, and I couldn’t see anything. “Unfortunately, I think they’re going to take all of us, Whit,” he said, right before they surged.

  “No,” John hollered. “They’re fucking not. They’re not taking anyone from Zero.”

  He grabbed a torch that Dante had on the counter and quickly lit the end of a broken chair. Then he was swinging. He torched Controlled after Controlled. Dante grabbed my arm. “Out. This place is going up.”

  John looked over his shoulder. “They aren’t taking Brandon.”

  As the Controlled burned, I ran after John, but Dante’s arm stayed around me the whole time. It seemed like he wasn’t going to let me go, and it filled me with strength. I could help. I could fight. But I didn’t mind someone having my back. A hand reached out and grabbed me. I shrieked before I realized it was Isaiah.

  He tugged us forward until we were outside. Carson had his hands on his knees, but his attention was on the crowd. It was the middle of the night, but I could see what happened thanks to John’s torch.

  “We need to help him. We need to make our own flames.”

  “Yes.” Dante nodded, holding up the torch John had used. When had the man grabbed it? He never ceased to amaze me. He got busy lighting pieces of wood. Lightning illuminated the sky a second before thunder struck. We were right in the heart of the storm. I shivered for one second before the rain pounded down once again. Was it going to put out the flames? So far I could still see John’s single torch in the midst of the Controlled.

  “He’s right there in the middle of the horde.” Since they’d gotten Brandon, they’d moved on.

  I couldn’t leave Brandon and John to that. I grabbed one of the lit torches and charged forward. I burned what I could, though in the rain, the worst I did was singe clothing and skin. The Controlled acted as I imagined wild animals would, staying away when possible. But then, like puppets on a string, they’d jerk forward, at times impaling themselves on torches as they tried to get closer.

  The ones I ended contributed to their own demise. Maybe I’d granted them a kindness, giving them their end. At least they’d no longer scream in my brother’s head.

  I finally reached John with Isa
iah right behind me. Carson hurried to catch up to us, but Dante hung back. As the rain stopped, he set fire to more Controlled than the rest of us, systematically eliminating them.

  We reached John who struggled hand-to-hand with a Controlled. He threw the Controlled off, but they weren’t fighting us. They just weren’t letting John through their numbers.

  He yelled something unintelligible before rounding on me. “I can’t let them have Brandon.”

  I needed Brandon back as much as I needed to breathe, but we wouldn’t achieve that if we all died here.

  “We’ll get him back. I know what Dex wants.”

  John’s torch slowly lowered. The deluge of rain put out the fires and the smell of smoke was thick and acrid. I coughed as it irritated my throat.

  “I take it that was your brother’s invitation to visit.” Nick appeared out of the darkness, a baseball bat in hand. A crawling, grasping Controlled dragged itself nearby, and he slammed the bat into its head. I tried not to gag. I’d done the same to many Controlled myself. “There are nicer ways to ask.” Each word was punctuated with a hit as he finished the Controlled loitering about.

  Isaiah let his hands fall to his sides as he turned in a circle, studying Zero. “All those discussions about whether we stayed at Zero were a waste.”

  Zero was a wreck. Buildings made of canvas or aluminum were flattened by the horde’s surge. A few Uncontrolled hovered at the edges of our group, their gazes going to John and Isaiah over and over.

  “It’s not ruined,” I said. “Just a little smooshed.”

  “We can fix this,” John agreed.

  An Uncontrolled edged a little closer. “Isaiah. Is that true? Will you close out Zero?”

  “Where will we go?” someone asked. “This is the only place safe for our kind.”

  I studied them, taking in their pallor and varying degrees of deterioration. Some of them were much worse off than I’d seen with any of the guys. However, I could see Dante’s handiwork. Some had artificial limbs. Others had patches on their skin similar to Brandon.