A Flare Of Power

by Elodie Colt

  Chris nodded and wrapped one of Dylan’s arms over his shoulder to support him. Dylan didn’t complain, his wounds obviously severe enough to save himself the argument.

  Jogging to my room, I took the quickest shower ever. I scurried through my tiny bathroom and collected my med kit, along with a few clean tissues, then got out ten minutes later and knocked on Dylan’s door.

  “Come on in,” Chris’ muffled voice came through, and I opened the door to let myself in. “I’ll take over your surveillance duty in the evening. You can thank me with a beer next week,” I heard Chris say through the bathroom door. “Enjoy,” he quipped in passing, leaving me with a blush.

  I slowly opened the bathroom door, carefully peeking around the corner in case Dylan was naked. Secretly, I hoped he was but at the same time, hoped for the opposite.

  He wasn’t. Well, only half. He’d already put on a pair of knee-ripped jeans, leaving his upper body bare. He stood in front of the mirror, bent over the basin and reaching for a nasty scrape oozing blood on his right shoulder blade.

  “What are you doing? You’ll get it infected,” I scolded as Dylan dabbed on it with his sweaty and blood-stained tee.

  “It’s just a scratch.”

  “Get your hands off there and let me take care of it.” Smacking his hand away, I discarded the dirty cloth before setting my med kit on a little table next to him.

  Dylan chuckled when his eyes fell on my huge med kit. “Did you rob a pharmacy?”

  Wetting a tissue with some drops of disinfectant, I carefully dabbed the wound while memorizing every curve and edge of the gorgeous tattoo on his back.

  “Remember me being clumsy? I needed this stuff all the time.”

  After cleansing the wound, I used some ointment to keep it moist and covered it with a bandage. Thankfully, the wound on the shoulder blade was only superficial.

  I eyed his back, inch by inch, searching for other injuries, but other than a few bruises, this part of his body was okay. No, perfect.

  My heart shuddered at the sight of his broad back. I’d never been this close to him—not counting physical contact during training and the night we landed in Lauren’s swimming pool, as I’d been too delirious to savor the moment. I could smell the masculine shower gel steaming off his skin, and it did crazy things to my insides.

  Dammit. My body was craving this more and more. I put it off on the Connection that was soon to come when the Awakening was over. How bad would it be then? I was a woman with needs. I wanted someone to touch me, to kiss me, to hold me, to—

  “You’re okay?”

  Dylan’s concerned voice pushed through my current of self-pitying thoughts, startling me. I refocused on Dylan who was staring back at me from the mirror, my hand hovering over his shoulder blade.

  “Yeah… turn around.” He sighed as if annoyed but did as he was told, leaning his lower back against the basin.

  Now, I could eye the slash on his eyebrow closely. It was only an inch apart from the scar already adorning his handsome face. I hoped it wouldn’t leave another scar. Not that I would mind. His scar was sexy. It fit him and made his masculine face even more prominent.

  My mind was wandering again. Focus.

  “You’re sure? You seem to be somewhere else,” he asked again, his voice even softer than before, and I wondered if he knew what was going on in my head, gathering from the smug glint he shot my way. I eyed him from the corner of my eye, trying to analyze him. He cared too much. When had that happened?

  “Just have a lot on my mind lately,” was my poor excuse.

  Retrieving a fresh tissue to wet it with disinfectant, I turned back to him. He spread his legs to give me room, and I stepped into the open space, trying to rid my mind of his overwhelming scent and the fact that only inches separated us. The lights from above reflected on his smooth skin, and I could clearly make out each water drop falling from his tousled hair.

  I’d never seen his hair like this. It was always cropped short with only the hair in front and on top an inch longer than the rest. He usually styled it with gel, but now, after showering and rubbing it with a towel, it stood unruly in every direction. It made him look younger and gave him a tinge of cuteness I’d never noticed before. I so desperately wanted to glide my fingers through the strands but found it safer to focus on my task of dabbing the cut. Dylan winced.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, using less pressure. Good thing my hands were busy, and I could pretend to pay attention to his injuries instead of his body.

  The bad thing was, he had nothing to do other than staring straight ahead, which was directly at my face. His gaze was so intense, it settled on my skin like an invisible layer, nearly making my fingers tremble. I wondered what he was thinking when he was watching me like this.

  Leaning toward my bag again, my leg brushing his, I retrieved a needle and a thread. That managed to switch his focus, and I caught Dylan eyeing the utensils in my hand skeptically. “Do you know how to do this?”

  I smiled at the uncertainty lacing his voice. “Why? Afraid?”

  “Not sure,” he admitted, but I could tell he was just teasing me.

  Carefully putting two fingers around the damaged skin, I made the first stitch, going as gentle as possible. Dylan didn’t even flinch when the needle pierced his skin, his eyes still riveted on me as if he was given the task to solve the mystery of his life, and the silence pressing down on us made me fight the urge to squirm.

  “Where did you learn this?” he asked after I’d made a through loop with the thread, willing my hands to stay calm despite the sexy distraction. He rested his hands on the edge of the basin and leaned back, giving me better access, which resulted in my breasts brushing his naked chest. Dylan’s breath hitched and skimmed over my cheek when he exhaled. It was intoxicating and sent shivers down my spine.

  “Taught myself,” I muttered, deeply concentrating on making clear stitches. “I had to. Cuts were on my daily agenda. Lauren can tell you everything about me smacking my head on doorframes, hitting tables with my hipbones, banging my nose on open cabinets, tumbling down a staircase, or slipping on tiles.” I pulled the needle through and followed with the thread, making sure it was pulled tight to hold the skin together.

  “Sounds dangerous to be you,” Dylan commented in an amused tone.

  I chuckled. “Yeah. I stopped visiting the hospital after accidents became a daily occurrence, and the nurses quickly became annoyed with me, so I took care of myself from then on.”

  “No scars left, as far as I can see,” Dylan said in what I could only describe as a wistful tone, his eyes roaming over my face, as if searching for old wounds that had long since healed.

  I lifted the corner of my mouth in a slight smile, and said, “Must lie in good genetics,” which caused Dylan to laugh.

  When I finished, I cut the thread and took another tissue to wet it. I had to bend around Dylan to reach the faucet, causing my body to press flat against his. Yeah, I admit I could have sidestepped his stretched-out legs, but it was just too much of a temptation to see how he reacted to me.

  And react he did as his grip on the basin tightened, and I swear I felt something stir under his jeans. This caused my mind to wander back to the day I’d been glued to him in the training room when my ability took over. I smiled, glad he couldn’t see my face hidden next to his shoulder.

  With the wet tissue, I dabbed around the stitching, wiping away the remaining crusts of blood. Dylan’s eyes were not on my face anymore. No, they’d wandered lower. I couldn’t blame him. My breasts were practically shoved in his face.

  “Okay, only one left,” I said with an exhale, examining a deep cut on his abdomen, located directly in the middle of his six-pack. I mentally prayed for stamina. This would take every ounce of self-control I could gather.

  Repeating the process, I started with the disinfectant. The silence in the room built up enough tension to prickle down my back, and I felt the need to break it. “I’m sorry about the fight, by th
e way. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  Dylan chuckled, the motion clenching his abs, and it was all I could do not to trace the rippled ridges with my fingers. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t beat me up.”

  “No, but I should have never let it come that far. I saw how badly you needed this, but it was wrong to encourage you.”

  “It was our decision, not yours. Besides, you were right, it would have happened anyway.”

  I pulled a new thread through the needle. “I still regret setting up that stupid rule. You wouldn’t need to go through this now if a Regenerator healed you.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m feeling very well taken care of right now,” he said in a quiet voice, his lips turning upward at one corner and giving me one of those disarming looks from under his lashes. “I don’t want you to feel bad about it. In fact, I’m glad you let us handle this. I’m a Fighter. It’s hard to fight my nature. You did me a favor.”

  “And? Was it worth it?” I wanted to know, starting with the stitches.

  My fingers skidded right over the muscle, and it felt so damn good… His stomach clenched visibly at my touch. God, this man was beyond beautiful. I contemplated seducing him just for the sake of one night with him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It would ruin everything. It would destroy our finally stable relationship along with my heart. I didn’t need this right now. I needed to focus on getting a hang on my ability. This was my priority.

  “Yes. Definitely,” he replied with resolve.

  “Even if it means cleaning up the mess with Cole tomorrow?”

  Dylan grunted. “I enjoyed every second my fist connected with his face.” My eyes lifted to his at hearing the contempt. I wasn’t a violent or vengeful person, by all means, but I understood Dylan and his intentions to some extent.

  “You do hate him very much,” I stated, cutting off the thread after I finished.

  Dylan exhaled, his six-pack following the movement and drawing my eye. God, this was pathetic. “Don’t trust him,” he pleaded, taking me off guard with his worried words.

  The urgency in his tone made me lift my head to look at him. “We all trust him and his team to a certain degree, don’t we? They’re here for our safety, after all.”

  Reaching for some bandages, I stuck them on the superficial wounds left. On his stomach, his ribs, his chest… all the places that were making it even harder not to stare.

  “You definitely attracted his attention,” Dylan muttered, and I could clearly make out an unfamiliar undertone. Fear? Disgust? Jealousy?

  “Don’t take everything he’s saying for granted. He just wants to toy with you. I don’t know why he thinks I’m your soft spot, though.”

  “You are.” My head snapped up at his words, but before I could comprehend their deeper meaning, he carried on. “I just want you to be careful. He’s not very sensitive when it comes to women.”

  “And you are?” The question was out of my mouth before my brain caught up with what I’d said. I saw Dylan’s jaw clench, and my hand froze over the last wound I had yet to cover.

  “I want to be,” he finally confessed, sounding vulnerable.

  I couldn’t remember him ever letting his guard down like that. I knew about Dylan’s promiscuity, but maybe he wasn’t the guy I was taking him for. He needed to quench his thirst. It was in his nature, after all—in the Fighter as well as in the man in him.

  The thoughts tumbled inside my head, and I didn’t even notice I was tracing his abs with my fingertips absently. His stomach clenched every time I came upon another ridge.

  “Sorry,” I muttered when the realization hit, pulling my hand away, but his own shackled around my wrist, fast as a snake, keeping my hand in place over his skin.

  “Don’t.”

  His soft plea shot through me like a fireball setting my insides aflame. His eyes were so intense, I swear he could see straight into my soul, laying it bare for him to see.

  When he was assured I wouldn’t pull away, he lifted his hand, and his fingers slowly traced my upper arm, following the curve of my shoulder where one long strand of hair nestled. Hooking one finger under it, he brushed it away, gentle like a feather’s caress. Everywhere he touched me, he left a trail of warmth, making me desperate for more. His eyes never left mine, as if desperate to catch a glimpse of every reaction he caused.

  When three of his fingers trailed up my neck and even higher to my jaw, a massive shiver ran down my back, prompting me to exhale long and slow. I wanted this so badly, but I needed to think this through before—

  My brain stopped its neurological functions when his hand cupped my face, and a thumb grazed over my lower lip. He pushed away lightly from the basin and leaned into me, our foreheads almost touching. My heart beat frantically in my chest the more he invaded my personal space.

  I knew what was about to come. I felt it in every fiber of my body.

  If I gave in, there would be no turning back. I wouldn’t be able to stop, of that I was certain. And then I’d share with him what I hadn’t shared in a long time with anybody, just for him to brush it off as another one of his successful conquests later.

  “The yellow in your eyes is always brighter when you’re deeply lost in thought. It’s fascinating to watch,” he explained in a hushed tone, his breath caressing my skin. “What are you thinking right now, Haylie?”

  His thumb was still placed on my lower lip, and it distracted me too much to think clearly. What should I tell him?

  “What is wrong and what is right,” I whispered back.

  A crooked smile played on Dylan’s lips as if he knew my resolve was slowly crumbling under his sweet onslaught. It made me want to grab the waistband of his jeans and demand him to take me on the spot. “And? Did you find the answer?”

  I shook my head slowly, probably looking like the lost puppy I felt right now, and causing Dylan to eliminate any space left between us until his mouth came upon mine.

  The breath hitched in my throat, and Dylan took it as a sign to continue. The way his lips moved was gentle, unhurried—the lightest flutter, as if he wanted to test the feeling first, but just as the sweet brushes turned into a real kiss, and his tongue started to part my lips, my phone vibrated, ruining the moment in an instant.

  I was close to growling and cursed at the worst timing possible but managed to reign in my emotions. “Um, I guess the answer found me…”

  Dylan chuckled, shaking his head as if amused, and let his hand fall away. It was all I could do not to cry at the loss. Pulling out my phone, I activated the home screen. A text message from Lauren.

  Couldn’t find u in your room. Lunch?

  I smiled despite the awkward situation I was trapped in and watched Dylan as he put on a fresh shirt, covering the parts of his body which distracted me the most.

  Be there in a few, I texted back.

  “Alright, I…” I cleared my throat, barely able to meet Dylan’s eyes. “I gotta go now.”

  Dylan nodded, putting his hands casually into his pockets. “Promise me not to try your luck with the wall alone, okay?”

  I smiled. “I won’t.”

  ~~~

  “Where have you been?” Lauren wanted to know when I joined her for lunch at a table in the farthest corner. “I lost you somewhere in the crowd after the fight.”

  “Uh, I tended to Dylan.”

  Lauren froze in her movement, the spoon full of noodles hovering inches in front of her mouth. A wicked smile crept over her. “The ‘Uh, I’ at the beginning of the sentence tells me exactly what you mean.”

  I shook my head, trying to hide my blush and wrapped some pasta on my spoon. It was only now I realized how drained I was, eager to pump my system with some carbs. “He had some serious cuts. I needed to stitch them.”

  Lauren eyed me curiously, obviously waiting for me to elaborate. “And?” she prompted in a tone that left nothing to the imagination as to what kind of information she was digging for.

 
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Dylan kissed me, but it was just a brief kiss, really.”

  The excitement on Lauren’s face got replaced by disappointment. “Why?”

  I chuckled. “You texted me.”

  Lauren nearly choked on her pasta. “Oh no, I interrupted you. I’m so sorry!”

  “I don’t think we would have gone any farther. I was already in the process of stopping it.” Liar, a tiny voice in the back of my mind shouted.

  “Why?” Lauren asked in a high-pitched voice, as if she’d just come to realize Santa Claus was only a fairy tale.

  I pondered over what to answer. “Did anybody tell you about the Connection?”

  Lauren nodded. “Chris did. He told me it was an intense feeling between Roes when touching somebody, and it worked like an energy booster.”

  “Then you know there are some Roes who look for fun just for the high of it.”

  Lauren squinted her eyes. “Are you referring to Dylan?”

  “Yes. I can’t even blame him. In fact, I’m surprised I don’t see him with women attached to him night and day.”

  “And you’re afraid he’ll use you,” Lauren concluded with sympathy in her eyes, now getting where I was going with this. I didn’t say anything, drawing a random pattern with my spoon into the sauce on my plate. “I don’t think Dylan would do that to you. I’ve noticed the way he looks at you. He cares for you.”

  Yeah, I’d noticed it, too. Even felt it to the bone whenever his eyes raked over me, but was it worth the risk? There was so much at stake…

  “Maybe. I just don’t want to jump into it blindly, you know? I’d like to wait for the Awakening to be over first. It’s all I can think about the last few days.”

  This made Lauren furrow her brows. “I thought it wouldn’t set in before the age of twenty-five. You still have time.”

  Before I could answer, Chris set his plate next to Lauren’s, interrupting our conversation. “And? Did you tend to Dylan?”