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

by Ripley Proserpina

  These guys had taken care of the Uncontrolled. When the world was crazy, they’d made a safe place for these poor souls who’d been Infected and then woken up to find themselves… dead.

  “Zero will be wherever you are,” I said, when no one answered the man. “Isaiah.”

  Isaiah faced me, his blue eyes sad. He frowned and ran his hands through his hair as if he was trying to get himself together. “Isaiah. We can fix this. We can make Zero safe.”

  Zero had to exist. There was no other option. Like getting Brandon. Some things just had to be done.

  He straightened his shoulders and nodded once then again. “Yes. Zero has to exist. But first, we need to get Brandon back.”

  “Do you need our help?” the Uncontrolled asked.

  “My brother…” I warned them.

  “No,” John answered. “Atticus—” He addressed the man who’d spoken. “You organize the others to pack up. Take what you can. I think we have to leave here.”

  Dante shifted from foot to foot, frowning. “There’s an ATV we could use to drag some of the heavier materials, like the things in my workshop. But it doesn’t run. Is anyone here a mechanic?”

  “I am.” An Uncontrolled stepped forward. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Dante with broad shoulders and tattoos running up both arms, except one ended in an artificial hand.

  “Great. Rieko can get that running. Atticus can organize, and we’ll go get Brandon.” John stuck his hands on his hips. “If we don’t come back…”

  “Start another Zero,” Carson said. “If we’d been thinking long-term, we could have set up leadership. A way to problem solve as a community. Do those things. The world is a mess, make Zero a place you can be proud of.”

  Carson’s directions sounded like a goodbye, but I refused to believe we wouldn’t return.

  “Let’s get going already,” Nick said. “Before you break into some sort of monologue.”

  “He already did.” John laughed, and Carson’s face flushed.

  I walked to him and linked my arm with his. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I entwined our fingers. “I liked it.”

  Carson squeezed me back and we all looked away from Zero, toward the forest and my brother.

  I couldn’t be sure of anything except one eventuality. I wasn’t leaving Brandon to Dex’s mercy.

  23

  Brandon

  My head hurt. It had been such a long time since I’d had a headache I’d actually forgotten how completely awful it was to have a pounding in my temples. Boom. Boom. Boom. It was like listening to music too loud except there was nothing playing. I shook my head, hoping it would clear. I would bang it on the fucking wall if I thought it might help.

  It wouldn’t. This pain was caused by Dexter Lake. He wanted me back, and he’d apparently thought locking me in some room alone and giving me the headache from hell would weaken me.

  He didn’t understand how motivated I was. No way would I allow him to bring me under his control. Not when things were finally looking up.

  I was damn lucky for a guy who’d been dead a week ago. I’d started to form a makeshift family at Zero.

  And then Whit found me when I asked. I couldn’t even believe that. How was she back in my life? How was she interested in me? Why didn’t it bother me more that she wanted the others?

  I couldn’t explain any of it, and given that there was a psychopath trying to wrench his way back into my head, I didn’t particularly care.

  That rocked. This sucked.

  End of story.

  The door flung open and Dexter stepped inside. I stared at him in pseudo-disbelief, hoping my acting skills would carry me through this.

  Nothing could really throw me in this world. Once you’d risen from the grave, everything else was sort of anti-climactic. But I channeled the surprise I felt the first time I saw a zombie, and hoped it translated to, Holy shit! You’re alive! and not And now I will perform, ‘Holy Shit, It’s a Zombie,’ by Christopher Marlowe.

  Then Dexter bent over and stared at me with wild, unfocused eyes. “Brandon.”

  I swallowed. “Dex.”

  He looked like a teenager, all long limbs and underdeveloped muscles with a hint of childlike roundness to his face. But he was more than his appearance. He led monsters like a conductor in an orchestra. I had to remember that.

  But… and this was the strange part. I was really aware of him being Whit’s brother. I had this weird need to kiss his ass and win his approval. That was what I did when he was really alive. He was the big brother; I’d wanted him to like me.

  Muscle memory had me almost smiling at him just to make him smile back. Nope. I wasn’t doing that.

  He squatted down low and studied me. “Do you know what the worst part of listening to your internal dialogue was?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. If I’d been Nick, I would have answered something smart, like, I don’t know. Unoriginality? Everyone wanted brains? But I wasn’t, so all I said was, “What?”

  “It was all about my sister. You were dead. In my head. And all your thoughts were Whitney. Whitney. Whitney. There is being star-crossed, my friend, and then there is being pathetic. You were borderline, Brandon. Borderline.”

  Yeah, I’d thought that myself back in the day when there seemed no hope of Whitney ever being mine. “Good news is you don’t have to ever listen to me again. Stop pounding at my head, and I’ll get out of here right now.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t.” He tapped his finger against his temple. “All those thoughts you had? You made them mine. Connected us. So—as annoying as you were, I want you back. I need you back.” Sitting back on his heels like a catcher with his glove, he smiled. “I’m so glad it was you we nabbed. Of everyone, you’re the only one I knew with any certainty they’d come after. And Whit will never leave you here. She’ll come back and bring the others with her.” The smile disappeared and his eyes turned hard and cold. “She should never have been allowed to be involved in this to begin with.”

  Was it guilt that made him say that? “You want to protect her.”

  Dex scoffed and stood. “Get up,” he said. “I can’t sit on the floor all day. I’m dead, remember. It’s not good for my knees.” He laughed at his joke and waited for me to join in. I didn’t, earning a glare.

  It was hard to keep up with his mood swings. Sometimes, he spoke like a much older person, and in the next seconds, he reminded me of the egotistical teenager I’d always known him to be. Dante would have been fascinated by the way Dexter worked, but for his sake, I hoped he stayed far away.

  “No.” Dexter hooked a hand under my arm and dragged me to my feet. “I don’t want to protect her. I don’t want her dead either, if that’s your concern.”

  “What do you want?” I asked. “Besides controlling us again?”

  There was a knock on the door, and Dexter smiled. It began small and grew as the knocking continued. I realized then, I hadn’t seen just how frightening Dexter could be. “Let’s start with a family reunion,” he said before yelling, “It’s open!”

  Gil Lake stepped inside with two men. The first, Mace, was one I’d hated my entire life, and the second, I’d only learned existed days ago. But I hated him just as passionately. He was the man who’d hurt Whitney. His gaze fell on me and he smiled broadly.

  “Oh good,” he said. “You caught one.”

  Whitney’s father curled his lip at me. “It was too good to be true when Whitney told me the Infected killed you.” He stepped closer and examined me like I was a cockroach. “Why couldn’t you stay dead?”

  Mace crossed his arms like he was in complete agreement. “We can make him dead.”

  I snapped my teeth at him and laughed when he jumped backward. With the wall at his back, he had nowhere to go and ended up tripping into the door. I laughed, and he started toward me, fist cocked back. He probably expected me to cower, the old Brandon would have de-escalated the situation, but then a zombie killed me and a punch to the f
ace didn’t frighten me anymore.

  “Now, now,” Dr. Karlton soothed. “There’s no reason to get needlessly violent.”

  Neither Gil nor Mace appeared to agree with him. “What do you want me to do?” Mace asked.

  Dex hovered near me. “Dad. I told you. They’re mine.” The tone of his voice had changed, becoming a bit whiny.

  “And I told you,” Gil replied. “You can keep them as long as they are beneficial to me.”

  Dex scowled and crossed his arms, clearly unhappy with his father’s declaration.

  “Shall we get started?” Dr. Karlton asked. “Dexter is anxious to have this one under his thumb, and Mace here is anxious to help.”

  My heart thudded in my chest, but I squared my shoulders. “Like old times, Mace.” Except this time I had teeth and an infectious disease I would use to my advantage.

  My old enemy came at me fast, but unlike the days when he used to torment me, I wasn’t afraid of pain.

  At least, I thought I wasn’t until his first punch landed. Then I realized that since Whitney, my nerve endings were firing again. I managed to block Mace’s fist with my forearm, but pain blasted through me. Shit.

  Like a snake, Mace darted forward and back, almost teasing me with hits. I landed a few of my own thanks to training I’d done with Nick and Dante, but when it came to muscle mass, Mace had me. As his fist connected with my jaw, stars erupted in my vision. I shook my head, trying to clear them, but Mace used the opportunity to catch me under the chin.

  Flying back, arms pinwheeling as I tried to balance, I felt pressure build in my head.

  “Again,” Dexter said excitedly. “I’m almost there.”

  Another hit caught me on the temple, and I went down. On the way, however, I caught Mace’s arm. He’d gotten complacent, probably thinking I was almost unconscious.

  He was right. But I had enough awareness to grasp his wrist in my hand, tug him forward and bite. His roar echoed through the room. The last thing I saw before everything went black was the tread of his boot.

  24

  Whitney

  I loaded my pack, probably vastly overestimating my strength. We had to get to my brother, and we had to get there fast. I only had the clothes on my back, but Dante needed stuff in case he had to repair someone, so I stuffed it full.

  A wave of dizziness hit and Brandon’s figure appeared before me. He faded out before he appeared before my eyes again. We stood face-to-face. I reached out. He wasn’t really here with me, I knew that, and dread made me sick.

  He needed me the way I’d needed the guys when they’d taken form as I’d been tortured. I touched him, and he was solid, but the fact that I was here meant he was hurt.

  “Brandon.” I swallowed my nerves. We might have limited time here. I needed to get right to it. “Are you okay?”

  “No. Your brother, your father, Mace. They’re all beating the shit out of me.”

  I cupped his cheek. “I’m coming for you, Brandon. I’ll beat them right back.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t ever do that. You’re not a thug. You’re… well, you’re my Whitney.”

  “I can be tough.” This was really beside the point. “My brother wants to take over Roanoke. Why would my father pull my brother into this?”

  None of this made sense.

  Brandon shook his head. “Maybe Dex is playing both sides. Your father thinks he’s controlling him and then—bam—betrayal.”

  My laugh surprised me. It was hardly the time. Still, sometimes Brandon said the funniest things. “Bam?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t come after me, Whit. Stay where you are. Stay with the others. They’re almost in my head. It’s almost too late.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. I’ll never leave you. Do you understand that? I’ll never, ever leave you. Wherever you go, we’re all coming for you.”

  He sighed. “Whit…”

  I leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the mouth. “I’m coming, Brandon. Hold on and never stop.”

  He vanished and frustration had me curling up my hands in fists. Had he heard me? Was he going to try?

  “Whitney?” Nick stepped into the room. “Were you talking to yourself like you just cracked up or communicating with Brandon?”

  “The second.” I picked up the bag. Good enough. I’d make do with what was packed and stop pretending I had the slightest idea what I was doing. “Although, perhaps I lost it a long time ago and you’re all just my delusions anyway.”

  He rubbed his head. “How existential.”

  I stared at him for a second. “Who are you, Nick?”

  He sauntered toward me. “Who are any of us, Whit? Isn’t that the universal question all of us are here to figure out? Who are any of us?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go. Brandon needs us.”

  Dante was as loaded down as I was, a canvas pack on his back. The other guys had what they needed. The six of us were outfitted for something halfway between a road march and a jamboree.

  John and Carson held weapons, and I realized, we’d probably need them. “My father and Dexter are working together,” I said. “My father has guards who will be armed. You all have pulses now, which I think means you’re alive.”

  “So don’t get shot is what you’re telling us?” Carson cut to the heart of the matter.

  “Right,” I said. “Brandon was…” I hadn’t seen his body, only the projection of his body. If I’d been smart, I would have counted how many people were in the room and where they were positioned. I should have studied the interior of the building, looking for entrances and exits. “Brandon was hurt. You can be injured.”

  “How badly was he hurt?” Isaiah asked.

  “Did you see the nature of his injuries?” Dante asked.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied. “I didn’t act fast enough. I talked to him for a moment, argued with him, and then I was drawn back into my body.”

  “That’s what you were doing,” Nick said. “You were with him. Why didn’t you say so? You let me mess around like it—dammit, Whit.”

  He looked genuinely upset so I toddled over to him, off-balance by my pack. “It’s okay, Nick.”

  He held my gaze and then glanced at Dante. “I need a fucking gun, Dante.”

  “I think we all may need one,” Dante replied and unlocked a cabinet.

  I’d grown up around guns, but I still didn’t know much more than the basics. A rifle. A shotgun. A handgun. What Dante had was an arsenal. He took out a handgun for Nick then glanced at me. “Whitney?”

  So here was the thing—even though I’d grown up with them—I didn’t like them. My father carried one even before the Infection, and instead of making me feel safe, it always made me feel like he was looking for an excuse to use it.

  Dad wanted me to learn how to shoot, but I’d refused. It was a small thing, and I’d thrown a massive temper tantrum. He’d decided it wasn’t worth his effort, and I’d exerted a small measure of control over my life.

  Straightening, Dante waited for me to answer. He held another handgun, but didn’t push me to take it. I stared at the dull black weapon and finally nodded. I held out my hand. “Point and shoot.” I spoke more to myself than anyone else. “I can do this.”

  “Are you sure, Whitney?” Isaiah asked.

  He held a baseball bat, and I stared at it, then him. “I’m not messing around. This is Brandon.”

  He glanced at the bat and slid it between his backpack and back. “Give me a gun, Dante. Whitney’s right.”

  Grinning, Dante removed a gun for Isaiah. It was a pump-action shotgun and Isaiah took it with a clear expression of distaste. However, he handled it skillfully, checking the safety and chamber. “Okay.”

  We were doing this. We were going to rescue Brandon. I was sure of it.

  My belief remained high all the way through the first half of the trip. But then the rain started pounding and I remembered that I hated being wet. Getting wet was one of those things tha
t I recalled my distaste for every single time it happened to me outside of a shower.

  The rain washed away some of my good feelings about this. We were six people against a horde of Controlled. The leader, my brother, wanted five of us back under his control and we couldn’t even really figure out his motivation. Somehow my father was involved and that meant Mace, too, who was probably my least favorite person on the planet.

  What was happening? How had I gotten into the middle of this?

  Isaiah approached me, interrupting my internal lamenting. “I think Dante knows more than he’s letting on.”

  “About Dex?”

  He shook his head. “No. If he knew about that he’d tell us for sure. No, I mean about why we’re all suddenly connected to you. I know the man. Have for years now. He sometimes keeps things to himself if he thinks it’s for the greater good. Like it was a full year before he told us anything about Uncontrolled returning to the horde. I just thought people were disappearing. He wanted me to be spared the guilt of that. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever known. After we get Brandon, I think we have to really push at Dante to start talking.”

  I hated the idea of having to press anyone to speak about things they wanted to keep to themselves. I supposed we didn’t have a choice. “Okay. After we get Brandon. You don’t remember anything about when you broke free? I can’t help but wonder if it isn’t all related. Disconnecting, reconnecting. So to speak.”

  “There’s one thing I remember.” He shrugged. “It was raining. Hard. Like today.”

  “Isaiah, I just hate being wet.” I laughed. It was a ridiculous thing to talk about but it felt good to say something that wasn’t life altering.

  He took my hand. “Whitney, I do too.”

  Well, we had that in common.

  25