Destiny's Touch (The Complex Book 0)

by Jane Hinchey

  Pressing my hand to the gate, I stepped inside, sucking in a chilly breath as snow swirled around me. I should've brought a coat. Shivering, I set off at a jog. The access panel wasn't far, and the dancing snow kept me hidden from anyone working on the farm. Dropping to my knees, I cleared the snow away with cold fingers, sighing with relief when I uncovered the panel. I heaved it open and slipped through, closing it carefully above me before shimmying down the ladder. It was warm in the tunnels. I soon went from shivering to sweating.

  "You made it," Tomb greeted me when I arrived at the designated spot.

  I nodded, not bothering with niceties. Pulling off my tunic and pants, I started to warm up, stretching and flexing my muscles.

  "Who you got for me?" I asked. My back was to the crowd that had formed. There was so little space in the tunnels—barely enough room to fight, let alone accommodate spectators—that we had to keep the crowds to a minimum. But serious gamblers were prepared to go just about anywhere to gamble on one of Tomb’s fights.

  "You're gonna like him," Tomb assured me. "Like I said, pretty sure he is—or was—a soldier. Big. Strong."

  "A challenge, then. Good." I smiled my approval before turning toward the crowd. They parted, allowing me to see my opponent for the first time.

  "You!" I gasped.

  Maddax. The man from the forest.

  His eyes flashed and he folded his arms across his chest. "No way."

  "We meet again." I kept my face bland as I stepped into the circle, eyeing him. He wore black shorts and nothing else. His body was well built, the muscles defined. He took care of himself, and he’d dressed appropriately. He clearly knew how to fight.

  This was going to be interesting.

  "I won’t fight you." He was shaking his head, his brows pulled together in a frown.

  "Why not? Scared I might win?" I taunted.

  "I won’t hurt a woman."

  "A coward, then?"

  "No. But I’m still not going to fight you."

  "Well, you can just stand there while I kick your ass, then."

  I launched at him, giving him no alternative but to defend himself. I didn't hold back; my foot snapped up and connected with his jaw. He staggered, but he didn't retaliate. He only brought his arms up in a defensive position.

  "You disappoint me." I ducked behind him and kicked the back of his knee, sending him staggering forward. He regained his balance and spun to face me.

  "Fight me!" I demanded.

  "No!"

  "For fuck’s sake." I launched again. This time I used my fists, a quick one-two jab. He had good reflexes. He jerked his head back so my fist bounced off his shoulder rather than his jaw. I rallied, spinning and dropping low, my leg sweeping out, aiming for his ankles. He jumped, and as he landed, I sprang up, my knee going for his groin. That got a reaction. Rather than evading me, his hands shot out to restrain me, coming down hard on my shoulders.

  I broke his hold and came at him again and again. I landed a few punches, grinning in triumph when I opened a gash over his eyebrow that dripped blood.

  Yet still he didn't attack.

  I was getting bored. I needed to take him down and end this farce. I body-slammed him, sending us both toppling. The touch of his naked torso against my own bare abdomen sent a lightning bolt of sensation through me, and my heart skipped a beat. The distraction cost me.

  When we hit the ground hard, I wasn't prepared. My shoulder scraped on the concrete, tearing at my skin. My face was pressed against his neck, and I could feel his hand cupping the back of my head, as if to protect me. I pushed against him, needing to break free and finish this fight, for he was stirring strange sensations in me. My pulse hammered in my throat and sweat covered my heated body. Something was wrong. Did he have something on his skin that was toxic? Had I been poisoned?

  "Are you hurt?" he asked.

  He grunted as I punched him in the gut, wriggling to release myself from his hold. I opened my mouth to speak, but felt something wet against my lips, and I frowned at him. He was leaning over me, blood dripping from his head wound, splashing on my face, into my mouth. His eyes darted to my lips. He cursed, wiping the back of his arm across his forehead, smearing his own blood.

  With the coppery taste of his blood on my tongue, a strange sensation came over me. It was no longer his face in front of me; instead, I saw that of a young woman with platinum blonde hair falling in a long braid over her shoulder. Her blue eyes were smiling, filled with love, and she was leaning over me, stroking my face with her fingers. She was speaking, but I couldn't make out the words. It sounded almost like...a lullaby?

  "Intra!" Tomb’s shout penetrated the strange trance I was in.

  Maddax grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. He looked down the tunnel as the Intra’s heavy, booted footsteps echoed closer and closer. He hesitated for a moment, looking from me, then to the tunnel, and back again.

  "Come on." He scooped up his clothes and bundled them under one arm, while his free hand kept a firm grip on me. For some reason I couldn't fathom, I allowed it. He pulled me in the direction opposite the Intra, stopping where I'd dropped my clothes on the floor.

  "Grab your things," he told me.

  I obeyed. It was the strangest thing, as if I couldn't think for myself, as if I needed him to direct me. I frowned, but he was right. We needed to get out of here, and I couldn't afford to leave anything behind.

  "Emilea? Come on, snap out of it, we need to move!" Maddax's voice, concerned, urgent.

  The Intra were closer now. I could hear their voices. Tugging my hand from Maddax's grasp, I took off in a sprint, away from the Intra. He stayed close behind me, keeping pace, his feet as quiet as mine.

  Tomb was right. This guy had training. Had he been a soldier in the war? And if so, what was he doing in the Complex now? Why wasn't he with his fellow soldiers?

  "In here." His strong arm snagged me around my waist and pulled me backward, into a small, dark space behind one of the massive pipes weaving through the tunnels. He spun me, pressing me against the pipe, his body protecting my back. I sucked in a breath. Once again, his closeness unnerved me. The warmth of his skin against mine made my stomach clench and started a warm tingling between my legs.

  "Quiet," he whispered in my ear, and I shivered.

  "I'm not stupid," I hissed, stiffening when he chuckled softly.

  Then the Intra were there. I held my breath, pushing closer against the pipe as if to make myself invisible. But they didn't stop. The patrol continued past us without a pause. Maddax kept me pinned for a few more minutes, until the footsteps had faded, before he stepped back, giving me space.

  "You're hurt," he murmured, his fingers taking my arm in a gentle hold.

  I glanced down at my shoulder. The fall on the concrete floor had scraped my skin away, leaving a bloody, oozing wound. But I'd had worse.

  I shrugged. "It's fine." It didn't even hurt, but I knew adrenaline was masking the pain. It would sting like a bitch later.

  "I'm sorry."

  His apology was unexpected and unwanted. I ignored it. "You came here to fight. As did I. You insulted me by refusing."

  My torn-up shoulder was my own fault. I'd lost focus when I tackled him. I knew how to land without injury, but my momentary distraction had cost me. Anger fuelled me now as I brushed past him, heading back the way we’d come. I was a little disoriented. We'd run blindly and I wasn't all that familiar with the Alpine tunnels. No matter; as soon as I found an exit I'd take my chances with where it delivered me.

  "I didn't mean to insult you either," Maddax said softly as he followed me down the tunnel.

  I ignored him. We continued in silence. I could hear him behind me, but refused to look. Or speak. Slowly, my anger dissolved, as did the adrenaline, and my shoulder began to throb. Soon enough, I recognized where we were. We’d made it back to where the fight had taken place. Over to the right was the ladder leading up to the snow farms.

  I pulled my pants and shoes o
n, then gingerly eased the tunic over my head. I winced as the fabric settled on my shoulder.

  "I'm sorry," Maddax said again, watching me. He was already dressed and stood waiting by the ladder.

  "I'm fine."

  I grabbed hold of the ladder and began the long climb. At the top, I pushed my good shoulder against the hatch, peeking through the opening. All clear. I flung it all the way open and crawled out. The snow was no longer swirling, the air now crisp and unmoving. I rubbed my arms and shifted my weight from foot to foot, waiting for Maddax to clear the opening.

  Then it hit me what I was doing—waiting for him. With a huff, I spun on my heel and headed toward the gate, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the chill. He could deal with the hatch himself.

  Making my way through the Alpine commercial area, I dodged the people milling around, cursing Tomb for selecting a location so far from my home. My shoulder throbbed, and I could feel the fabric sticking to the wound, pulling and rubbing with each movement. I just prayed the blood wouldn't show through my tunic. The last thing I needed was to draw attention to myself.

  At the zipper stop, I stood and waited, glancing around. No sign of Maddax. A stab of disappointment took me by surprise. He'd done what I wanted. He’d left me alone, so why was I disappointed?

  The woman staring back at me in the mirror was me, yet somehow not. Our features were the same. We both had high cheekbones and full lips, but while my hair was short, covering half of my face in the front, hers was long and braided. She had two blue eyes; I had one blue, one brown. This woman followed me around. Every time I was near a reflective surface she was there, too, looking back at me, a smile tilting her lips.

  I felt as if I knew her, but on another level, she was a total stranger to me. I didn't understand why I was seeing her. I’d started to wonder if I’d hit my head in the fall and had a concussion.

  I was about to step into the shower when my intercom buzzed.

  "Unknown visitor," my AI system informed me.

  Yeah, well, I never had visitors, so my AI hadn't been programmed with names. But I relaxed a little, because if it was the Climintra, my AI would have informed me. Law enforcement didn’t need to be programmed into anyone's system.

  Pulling a robe on, wincing again as it scraped over my raw shoulder, I padded to the door. When I waved my hand over the panel, it slid open. Maddax stood on the other side.

  "You should've checked who it was first," he grumbled.

  "I can take care of myself. I'm not afraid to open my door." I crossed my arms. "How did you know where I live?"

  "I followed you. You seemed kinda upset back at the farm, thought you could use some space."

  "Why follow me? I told you, I can take care of myself. I don't need you to babysit me."

  "That shoulder needs attention. Try doing it one-handed and see how far you get." His sarcasm surprised me. Up until now, he'd been nothing but warm, polite, friendly. Even when I was beating the shit out of him. Sarcasm was a nice surprise. I chuckled, stepping back so he could enter.

  "Nice place," he commented.

  "My father chose it." Moving over to the massive windows, I stood and surveyed the horizon. Miles and miles of nothing but red, barren earth. I missed home. Missed the trees and woods. I loved being outside in the fresh air. Being trapped in this domed community was going to be the death of me.

  "Go take your shower," he said. "I'll help you dress your shoulder afterwards."

  I looked at him for a minute and he returned my stare, refusing to back down or be intimidated.

  "Have I mentioned I love your eyes?" he suddenly said.

  I blinked. "No."

  "Well, I do. They're mesmerizing."

  "Most people hate them."

  "Not me."

  I watched him warily for a minute longer before crossing to the bathroom and closing the door. My robe was stuck to my shoulder, the blood leaving an ugly stain as it seeped through the light fabric. Not that it mattered. I had plenty of money and could afford a new robe. Hell, I could afford a dozen new robes.

  The water came on and I stepped beneath the spray, robe and all, sucking in a breath as the water pelleted my shoulder like a thousand needles. Steeling myself, I peeled off the robe, letting the water unstick the fabric from my raw flesh, then thoroughly cleaned the wound. The floors in the tunnels were filthy and the last thing I needed was an infection.

  Once I was satisfied it was clean, I washed the rest of my body, shampooed my hair, and turned off the water. I was one of the lucky ones who didn't have water restrictions, but I didn't abuse the privilege. Just because my family had money didn't mean I should squander the Complex's resources. The large tub on the other side of the bathroom sat unused. A five-minute shower was more than adequate for my needs.

  I returned to the living room wrapped in a towel. Maddax turned from where he'd been standing at the window, his eyes travelling from my head to my feet and back again.

  "That was quick," was all he said.

  I nodded, heading toward the kitchen. I kept first aid supplies in one of the cupboards.

  "That shoulder looks nasty," he said, reaching over my head to pull out what he'd need to dress my shoulder.

  I glanced down at it. He was right. I'd taken off a hell of a lot of skin, and there was dark bruising down my arm and across my collarbone. No wonder it was aching like a son of a bitch.

  He stabbed my upper arm with a pain pen. The drugs shot into my bloodstream, making my knees weak. Before I could protest, he lifted me onto the kitchen counter and dusted my shoulder with powder before expertly applying dressings. Three in all, to cover the expanse of skin I'd lost.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked, peering into my eyes.

  "Dizzy," I admitted. Pain killing drugs always affected me strongly. I didn't like to use them because they made me feel sluggish and sleepy.

  He scooped me into his arms, one arm cradling my back, the other supporting my legs, and carried me to my bedroom.

  "Sleep it off," he ordered, settling me beneath the covers, towel and all.

  Eyes drifting closed, I had no option but to obey.

  He was gone when I awoke. I pushed down the disappointment, telling myself it didn't matter and that he’d only taken care of me out of some outdated chivalry. It didn't mean anything.

  My shoulder was healing nicely. I'd only be out of action for a few days, but they’d be days of empty nothingness. I'd been refused work at every UniShop and business I'd approached. My father's name carried a lot of weight, and he’d forbidden me to work as one condition of my imprisonment in the Complex. It was beneath our family.

  Which meant I was the odd one out here. Everyone else had a job, their daily tasks, yet I wandered aimlessly, trying to find somewhere I'd fit in. Somewhere I'd belong, where I could make friends. So far, it hadn't happened. No one wanted to associate with the prissy rich girl who thought she was better than everyone else. If only they knew—knew how much I hated my family's money, or that being rich did not mean you were happy. My father sending me here was proof of that.

  Knowing I'd drive myself crazy if I stayed in my apartment, I headed out. A wander through the jungle zone would soothe my spirits, and even if it wasn't real, I could pretend for a little while, at least.

  But the peace I sought wasn't to be found. Instead, I found myself bombarded with strange sensations as soon as I stepped out of the fasttrans. It was almost as if I was feeling the supernatural powers of the Metas all around me.

  I pressed on the chip implanted behind my ear. Was it faulty? Had I damaged it in my fall? The chip was meant to stop the Metas from using mind control over humans, and while I didn't think anyone was purposely trying to influence me, I could still feel their power. It was overwhelming.

  "Steady." A hand grabbed my elbow, guiding me off the path to a bench a few feet within the jungle zone.

  "Maddax." I gulped, my heart hammering. I could feel him, too; his power was palpable and hot.

/>   He sat by my side, his concern obvious. "What's going on?"

  "I'm not sure. I'm feeling...things."

  "What sort of things?"

  "I think I'm sensing the Metas," I admitted.

  "The different energy patterns, you mean?"

  Yes. That sounded about right. I nodded. He frowned at me, then leaned back, his arm slung over the bench behind me.

  "What does it mean?" I asked, not expecting an answer.

  He shrugged. "You said you could see people's auras and sense their energy, yeah?"

  I nodded. Yes, I'd always been able to do that. But this was something more—like what I used to be able to sense, amplified by a hundred.

  "Could it be the pain meds messing with you?" he suggested.

  "Could be." I knew I didn't like taking them because they made me feel so weak. Maybe he was right. Maybe with my defenses down, the things I could sense became overwhelming.

  "Don't tell anyone else about this." Maddax reached for my hand and squeezed. "Not unless you fancy spending time in the medical unit and being the subject of countless tests."

  I nodded. "Good point. I doubt my father informed them of my abilities when I was brought here. I wouldn't want them to get overexcited and classify me as Meta just because I have some psychic abilities."

  "True," he agreed, but the expression on his face gave him away. He didn't believe it for one moment.

  "What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked.

  "Keeping my eye out for you." His reply sent a warm shiver through me.

  "Why?"

  "I've got a few days of leave from my job and I could use the company. Thought you might like to hang out with me.”

  "What is your job, by the way?" We'd never really talked before, except to bicker, and I found I was curious about him.