Nothing.
I guess having no super power was better than Dante’s. Super smarts. Lame. I’d rather be dumb and strong.
Which is exactly what you are.
Well, fuck me sideways. That wasn’t my voice. Something nudged me and a sharp pain behind my eye had me wincing. Shit. That voice was Dexter’s or I was a mother fucker.
“Get out of my head,” I growled. Behind me, Whitney groaned. My body jolted with a sudden burst of energy and the nudge, which had clawed into my brain, was gone.
“Thanks, Whitney,” I whispered. She may have been out cold, but she’d felt what had happened.
“No problem,” she whispered back.
I jerked my gaze to the rearview mirror. Her head rested on Isaiah’s arm, and she blinked at me with sleepy eyes. I could tell she was going to go under in a second, but for now, she smiled at me indulgently.
“Your brother is a stage-five clinger,” I told her, and she snorted.
“No shit.” Her eyes shut, and with a tiny snort, she fell back to sleep.
And I was alone again.
Okay, so I wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch, but I wasn’t a dummy. I could figure out my place in this group.
Because of that I was certain. I belonged here. With Whitney and the best friends—cough, only friends, cough—I’d ever had,
Super smarts. Fortune Teller.
The Amazing Zoltar! I patted myself on the shoulder. Carson’s new name was Zoltar.
Stormie the weather predicting horse man.
And me.
Who was I?
God, I hated existential questions.
I was good at sports. Solo sports. I held the state record for fastest hundred meters in the state of Virginia. What if I had super speed?
I dismissed the idea.
Everyone else seemed to have something related to their mind and energy.
I guessed if I had something, it would show itself at some point. Unless I was Xander from Buffy. Yeah, I’d watched that show when it had been on. The chick who played her was hot. And then that…
Wait a second… had Dexter been in my head. How was that possible? Dexter wasn’t in our heads unless we were Controlled, and I absolutely was not. I wasn’t near him. He took people back, they heard him, and it was done.
Could I hear Dexter?
I sat up straighter. Was that my thing? Did I have the ability to hear the enemy? Fuck me, I guessed we were going to have to figure it out. I didn’t want that job. Was I going to be the easiest to take back?
I really hoped not. I’d take super speed. Strength. Hell, I’d be Jughead from the Archie comics and wear a cool hat before I wanted to communicate with Dexter. When Whit woke up and we were back with Dante, I’d find out.
36
Dante
Nick wanted to talk, but it was important I finally tell my story. I’d dragged this out long enough.
We’d arrived home, back at the wild overgrown cottage I’d decided was ours. John had gazed around the yard, silent just a second, before following us inside.
Isaiah wasn’t speaking much. It had to be weird to suddenly discover that he could control lightning. What I knew about psychic powers was that, before the Infection, he’d probably never have known he could do these things. There had to be a reason something like that turned on. If he’d spent a lot of time in the rain, he’d have just thought that was normal weather.
It begged the question, how many people with his particular talents lived in the Pacific Northwest?
I shook my head. I was getting off track. John, by contrast, couldn’t seem to stop talking. Everything was being commented on, which was very un-John. He was a natural leader the same way Whit’s father was, but without the psychopathic tendencies.
“Dante?” Whitlee rubbed her eyes. “Go on, please. We’re all here.”
“Tell us what you did that you think that makes you think you were responsible for what happened. You hurt people, I get that. You’ve certainly had to suffer as a result.” Carson pinched the bridge of his nose. “But the infection itself? Were you also working in weaponing disease?”
I shook my head. “No.” That would have been simpler. “I helped a very bad man increase his psychic abilities, and he turned out to be the one who would do what you described, weaponize the disease that got out of control. I taught him how to break into things with his mind. He walked out with the disease in his pocket and sold it to the highest bidder. As you can see, we’re right here.”
There. Now they knew.
Whitlee turned her head to speak to Brandon. Her voice was almost too low to make out so I moved my head, directing my better ear toward her. I resisted cupping my hand around the shell. I was already the oldest one of this group. And the guiltiest. I’d rather not remind the girl, and my friends, about advanced age.
“Karlton…” I caught. And my ear suddenly popped. It was like I’d rapidly descended in an airplane, when those things had existed. There was a moment of pressure, and then it released.
“…and my father,” Whitlee finished.
In order to speak to Carson and John, who rested their elbows on the back of the couch, she’d turned completely around, her back to me. But I heard every word she said.
Every. Single. Word.
Of course. The bones in my face had healed, and now the tiny bones in my ears. The ones that had been so damaged I’d been completely deaf on one side had fused and once again transmitted sound.
“Is that right, Dante?” She faced me, completely innocent of the miracle she’d bestowed.
I cleared my throat. “Sorry, Whitlee. My hearing went in and out for a second. Say that again.”
“You said the doctor you worked with increased his psychic abilities and stole a disease. That doctor was Dr. Karlton, wasn’t it? And the man who sold it was my father.”
I walked toward her. She sat on the couch, but John’s hand rested on her shoulder. I noticed he was staying close. Once he’d recognized what he wanted, he’d gone all in.
Smart man. Sometimes it took the end of everything to realize what you’d lost.
And Whitlee. She was so ready to take on all the guilt that didn’t belong to her.
“No,” I said. “Dr. Karlton never had psychic abilities. There was another man, a student like me. His name was West Crowe, and he was a conduit. Information flowed from him into others and from others into him.”
“How did he get information about the infection?” Whit asked.
I smiled but not with amusement. For a girl who’d grown up with Gil Lake, she was remarkably innocent. “Roanoke is four hours from DC. And the government was very interested in our study. All it took was one incredibly loud thinker who had knowledge of the government’s weaponization of diseases and the rest is history.”
“West sold the disease and that was it?” Brandon asked.
I nodded. “He was a true mind reader. Things appeared to him like photographs. And as a med student, he knew what he was seeing. Unfortunately, the person he sold the disease to was not careful.”
“Why would you create this disease?” Nick asked. “Who the hell wants a world of zombies?”
“Think about it,” I said. “What do we actually call the people who have been infected?”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Controlled…” He sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Holy shit. The disease was created to control people.”
“There was a method to the government’s madness. A bunch of scientists investigating psychic control, while two-hundred and fifty miles away, another bunch of scientists were creating a disease that, when released, created a ready-made, easily controllable army.”
They saw the truth now, and they’d decide what to do with me.
Whitlee took my hand. “You were working on a project that turned out to be bad. I think if you had known, you wouldn’t have done it. You’ve suffered enough. Time to let this go. Let’s focus on the future. We have one now.”
I
swallowed, my pulse in my ears. First off, it was amazing I had a pulse. Second… “You don’t want me to leave?”
Whitlee widened her eyes. “Of course not.”
She rose and brought me to her, the deepest hug I could ever imagine. I laid my head on her small shoulder. She was so tiny. How did she manage to shoulder so much on her small frame? I held on, and she made no moves to let me go. The others were silent. So much so that I eventually had to lift my head. “This crowd quiet?”
Nick shrugged. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your needing forgiveness for something you didn’t do.”
I snorted. “Thank you, Nick. Nothing like the way you put things, really.”
He grinned. “Now that I have everyone’s attention, let’s talk about me.” He pointed to himself. “Because you know, yeah, me.”
Whitlee grinned. “That’s right. You had something, too. Shall I forgive you for the world’s problems you didn’t cause? Or maybe you did. You have this knack with stealing cars.”
His smile widened. “I am nefarious.” He rose and Whit stepped toward him. “I think we may have a problem. I can hear Dex.”
“Like in the car.” She nodded. “I knocked him out.”
“You could hear him?” I turned fully to Nick. “I didn’t feel like he was trying to re-collect you. Nothing to indicate he had power. That’s fascinating. I wonder…”
Nick interrupted me. “You wonder if my psychic power is to hear him.”
“Yes. The possibilities are huge. You could eavesdrop on him.”
He backed up two steps. “Hey now, I’m not signing up for anything like that. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should, or maybe I should say that I will. I’m not letting that asshole anywhere near my brain. You feel him coming, Whit, you knock him out.”
I needed to think about this. He was a receiver. I didn’t have any of my notes, but somewhere in my rattled brain, I had to know. What was it that receivers could do?
I looked at everyone one last time. “Got something to do, forgive me.”
I rushed from the room.
37
Brandon
I linked my fingers with Whitney. “Lot of power going on in this room, and you are funneling all of it. Come on. Sleep. And I think I’ve figured out a bath situation. Plus, I don’t know my psychic ability just yet. Getting people to trust me? Come on. How lame is that?”
She threw her head back, laughing. Just what I wanted.
Sighing, she leaned her head against my shoulder. Isaiah stood near the window, staring up at the sky. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” he said.
“And our meteorologist, Stormie McStorm-master, predicts sunshine and clear skies.” Nick did an imitation of a weatherman, holding his hand out to an invisible map.
In the distance, thunder crashed, and Nick jumped. Isaiah smiled.
Ooookay. Time for us to leave.
“Tired?” I asked Whitney.
She nodded against my arm, but she still hadn’t let go of John’s hand.
“Go to bed,” he said to her. “You’re almost shaking with exhaustion.”
She was. Hoping I didn’t make a mess of this, I stood and then lifted her into my arms. She fit perfectly, and with the surge of happiness I felt having her this close, I could have carried her up the stairs of the Empire State Building.
If it still stood.
I took her into the first bedroom I found.
“This room is different,” Whitney said. I placed her on her feet and studied it. The bed was a canopy, but the lacy fabric had begun to disintegrate. It hung in tattered ribbons around the mattress. Whit touched the hanging pieces. “Gives it sort of a jungle feel.” She glanced over her shoulder to smile at me at the same time a beam of sunlight came through the window. It lit her from behind, turning her bright hair luminescent. A halo of light surrounded her, and, if it was possible, and I wasn’t sure it was, made her even more beautiful.
Without replying, I strode to her and kissed her. With one hand against her face, I kept her in place. I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me. She wiggled against me, as if she was trying to get closer, and I lifted her into my arms again. Her legs immediately went around my waist. I wasn’t sure where I was going, I just knew I needed a surface and to feel her under me. Around me. Over me. I didn’t care.
I’d waited for her. I’d waited for this moment. Since the second I realized Whitney was a girl, and that girls weren’t gross, I’d been in love with her.
She grasped at my shirt, fisting it and yanking it up, but I’d have to leave her lips to take it off, and it just wasn’t my priority.
Giving up, she instead grabbed my hands and brought them to her waist. Her shirt had become bunched between us, and I touched firm, soft flesh. Oh, God. I got to touch her.
This was happening.
I spun us, hoping I was moving in the direction of the bed. Whitney suddenly fell backward, and I tumbled onto her, catching myself on my elbows at the last minute. My eyes popped open, and I found her staring at me.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” I replied, and kissed her again. I let my hands roam her body. I could kiss her forever, but those smooth expanses of skin were calling my name. I kissed where I touched her, trailing over her body first with hands then my mouth.
She giggled. “Sorry to be a mood killers, but I’m gross. Did you say something about a bath?”
I nodded. “I did, and you naked in a tub is not a mood killer. This place, I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever lived here was some kind of survivalist. But they have natural gas, which means, no electricity needed for hot water. There is actual hot—well, warm—water coming out of the pipes. Last night I looked when I first got home before I came up to you guys. There is a boiler, and I just had to light the pilot light. So I found a match in the kitchen and lit it. It was my hope there would be hot water by now and there is. Come on.”
I lifted her off the bed and brought her into the bathroom. Setting her down, I made sure she was steady on her feet before I turned on the tub. Warm water came out, filling it. Her eyes widened, and I continued. “I also sort of did my best to clean it. I mean, there was some cleaning product too.”
“You did all of this for me?”
I nodded. “I wanted you to be comfortable, Whit.”
“Brandon, this is the single sexiest thing anyone has ever done in the history of gestures.”
I laughed. That was hysterical and what was more, she seemed to mean it. “You’re welcome. You know I’d do anything for you, always.”
She nodded. “I do know that. I love you, too. You know what else would be really hot?”
I took her hand, kissing it. “Your wish is my command.”
“All right, Mr. Genie. It would be really hot if you’d get in with me. Maybe we could take this bath together.”
I pulled off my shirt. “If you don’t mind sharing a tub with my zombie ass then I would love to do that together.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more.”
We stripped each other, finally stepping into the half-full tub. It was going to be a tight squeeze, but I didn’t mind. I sat down first, drawing her into my lap. “I’ll wash your back.” There had been soap under the sink. It smelled a little bit like roses, and I likely would not love wearing it for the next day on my skin. Of course, I was going to love smelling it on her skin. It could become my favorite scent ever.
I amended my thinking. I would love to smell this way because it would mean I got to smell like Whitney did. That thought blew my control. Yeah, I was hard, pressed up against her, and probably going to lose it if I wasn’t careful.
She shifted slightly. Her hair was wet where she’d poured water on it and scrubbed it with the soap. I’d search for shampoo for her when next I went looking.
“You’ve never done this, right?”
I gulped. “Bathed with you, no?”
“Sex. You’ve never… done this?”
Now, however, there seemed to be this huge gap between what she knew and what I didn’t.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I told her.
“You know…” She looked back at me over her shoulder and smiled. It was a purely Whit smile, a little bit cheeky, but one hundred percent love. “You know… the moment I got your letter, I stopped doing what people told me. I started making my own decisions. That letter, Brandon, that set me free.”
“I haven’t done this before,” I answered in a rush. “But I’ve been thinking about it for years. In my head, you and I have had sex about a billion times.”
Whitney laughed. Her eyes screwed shut, and her nose wrinkled. Her head pressed into my shoulder as her entire body shook, and look at that, there was my hard-on.
She reached her hand back, cupping the back of my neck. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she said. “So if you’re expecting to be wowed, you should really lower the bar.”
“Whitney…” Didn’t she know that just by being in my arms, she’d exceeded every fantasy I’d ever devised in my sex-starved brain? “Whitney, you brought me back to life. We could sit here, in this bath, until the water gets cold and my dick hides, and it’d still be the single most amazing moment of my life.”
Water sloshed as she turned. She shifted onto my lap, knees gripping my sides as she settled herself on my thighs. “I want you, Brandon.” Lifting slightly, she reached between us and grasped my cock. She held it steady in her small hand as she moved into place. My tip touched her entrance, and I moved, helpless. I was surrounded by warmth, and I chased it, pushing until I was fully seated inside her.
“You okay?” she asked.
I realized I had my face buried against her neck, my arms holding her against me as I panted for breath. I nodded. In my entire life, I’d never been better than I was this second.
Lightning Strikes: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Storm Book 1) Page 20