Thinking, planning, analyzing had calmed him, but then Sam thought about going out there, to Riley, and the tension returned. He could stay in here all night. Or until she went to sleep. She had to be tired, after everything that had happened. He owed her an apology, and more, but he could handle it better in the morning. Yeah, he’d wait it out.
If she’d let him.
As soon as the water shut off, Riley knocked on the bathroom door. Silence. “Sam? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” But his voice sounded as raw as her wrists.
“Are you coming out?”
His sigh was heavy enough to hear through the door. “Yeah. Give me a minute.”
Riley turned off the light and got into her bed. She had a feeling Sam would appreciate the darkness.
He’d been in the bathroom, in the shower, for more than half an hour. When he first threw himself off her she’d been in a haze of desire, and his horrified expression had pierced her to the core. But then he fled into the bathroom, where she’d heard him retching a short time later. She might have some insecurities, but she didn’t think she was that repulsive. No, something else was going on.
She curled on her side and watched shadows flicker in the light under the door as he moved around. The light clicked off and the door opened. Riley’s eyes were adjusted enough to see he wore only a towel. Her heart skipped, but he walked quickly past the foot of her bed to the far side of his own. As far from her as he could get. With effort, Riley kept herself facing away until she’d heard him settle into bed. Then she rolled over.
“Sam.”
“Riley.” The low rumble was an apology all by itself.
“Talk to me.” He didn’t respond, so she said, “I didn’t want you to stop.”
Sam drew in half a breath and choked. “What?”
“I want you to know that. In case some of the problem is that you were afraid you were forcing yourself on me or something. I wanted you, too… That’s all.” That was so not all. Her body still hummed. She could still taste him. Her want was very much not in the past tense. But if she had any hope of desire growing into more, something lasting, she had to give Sam room.
“Thanks.” His voice was soft, and then he cleared his throat. “That helps. A little. I, uh…”
“You can talk to me,” Riley said. Please talk to me.
“Shit. I don’t even know where to start.”
“I can ask you questions.”
He chuckled. “Okay.”
“What made you stop?”
He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I just clued in that it wasn’t normal.”
Yikes. What did that mean? “Not normal because…”
“It wasn’t regular, uh, desire. I was driven, hungry. More than hungry. I didn’t know if I could stop.”
“But you did.”
“Luck. I saw—” He hesitated. “It’s a long story, and it’s getting late.”
“I can sleep in the car.” So far, their relationship had been all about what she needed from him. She wanted so much to help him in return, and staying awake to listen seemed like such a small thing.
“Not all of it’s mine to tell. So…don’t, like—”
Riley sighed. “I would never repeat something you said to me, Sam. You can trust me.”
Sheets rustled, and he cleared his throat again. “Before the whole leech thing, Quinn used to get what she called moon lust. Her body would be depleted when she channeled energy, and she needed to recharge, to balance it, with sex.”
Riley stilled, a new kind of heat rising up into her face. Who did Quinn recharge with back then, before she had Nick? Probably her dedicated assistant. Her hands clenched until the burns on her arms pulled, making her wince.
Not the point. Just listen.
“I think when I filtered the power she transferred to Jennifer, I got more than the residue. I think I got something from Quinn, too. I’ve never felt that kind of craving before. I never understood what she was feeling, all those years.”
He mused the last, and Riley forced her tense jaw to relax. Just because he was reflecting on the past didn’t mean it had anything to do with the present.
“Does that mean you still need—”
“No, I, uh…I’m good.”
Riley flushed with what should have been embarrassment, but understanding what he meant stoked her fire. Her mouth went dry, and she squeezed her thighs together, to no avail.
“I think that would be it if we were done with the transfers. I can’t draw on additional energy and drive the, um, reaction up again.”
Oh, God. She couldn’t handle this! It was all she could do not to climb into his bed. She rolled to her back and swallowed hard. “So you’ll be like this after you do the next transfer.”
“And it may be worse.”
“You don’t have to do it,” she said softly, though she knew he’d never say no.
“Of course I do. It’s killing Quinn. She has to get rid of it. And Chloe and Tanda need their abilities back to be whole. But I was already worried about the power part, and now this. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” He swallowed, the sound audible from where Riley lay. “I want you to leave. To go somewhere safe. But—”
“But there is nowhere safe.”
“No.”
The sexual tension slid away. He sounded so lonely. Even if he didn’t think of it that way, she’d been mired in it long enough to recognize it in someone else. She slid out of bed and sat on the side of his. Despite the dark, she found his hand and gripped it. “You’re not alone.”
His fingers wrapped around hers. “I know I’m not.”
“No, I mean it. You won’t talk to Quinn and Nick because you think they have enough to worry about. And you want to send me away in case you lose control. But I’m stronger than you think, and whatever I can do to get you through this, I’ll do.”
“You don’t know what that might entail,” he said half humorously.
“We’ll find out together.”
“Anson’s still out there, and we don’t know what Numina’s doing.”
“It’s not our job to find out right now, remember? We’re leaving that to the Society. If Anson messed up their decade-long plans, they’re probably not close to their end game.”
He sat up, and the sheet slid down to his waist. Riley forgot everything she’d been saying and stared at his torso. The little bit of light in the room gleamed across his skin, enhancing the shadows of his abs and pecs. He loomed in front of her, his size and strength rendering her offer to be his champion utterly ridiculous.
“It’s usually me saying stuff like that,” he said. All the tension had drained from his voice. “You make it all seem easy to handle.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “One thing at a time, right?”
“Right.” He raised his hand to her chin and slowly leaned forward to press a soft, warm kiss on her mouth. “Thank you.”
Riley drew a deep breath and eased away to go back to her own bed. As they both settled and said goodnight, she relaxed her mind and body. As soon as she did, Sam’s buzz tickled her awareness at the same intensity it had been before.
She found it surprisingly comforting.
…
The next morning they all piled into the Charger with bags of breakfast to go, Nick at the wheel. Riley pouted a little out the rear window when they drove away from her Beetle. It had gotten her through so much, and leaving it here, however temporarily, felt like a betrayal of the reliable little car.
After hours of hard driving, Riley talked Nick into a pit stop at the rest area on I-75 in Tennessee. She followed Quinn to the ladies room. The other woman had kept her expression overly steady and movements deliberately smooth as she got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk. Riley had a feeling it was taking Quinn a great deal of effort to hold it together and keep the guys from worrying. Nick was already almost as stressed as Quinn was sick.
She waited a couple of beats before pushing thro
ugh the main bathroom door. Quinn was already in a stall, retching.
They had to do something. They weren’t even halfway to Rhode Island. Nick was riding the accelerator hard and had even let Sam drive for a few hours so Nick could rest without stopping—something he clearly didn’t like to do. But they still weren’t moving fast enough.
Riley leaned against the wall, watching Quinn’s unmoving feet under the stall door. She shouldn’t have let Quinn heal her burns this morning, dammit. Quinn had assured her it was a simple action, not enough to even make her blink. That might have been true before, but now Riley was afraid it was making her worse.
Quinn coughed and drew in an audibly deep breath. The toilet flushed, and her feet turned to face the door. Riley moved closer, ready to help when the door latch rattled. The door opened, and Riley caught Quinn before she fell flat on her face.
“Crap,” Quinn said, using Riley to balance herself. “Thank you.”
“Let’s get you back outside,” Riley said. “It smells like hell in here.” She wrapped her arm around Quinn’s waist and propped her up while she washed her hands and splashed her face. Figuring Quinn could use a few minutes before she had to fake strength again, Riley steered her out to the picnic area in the rear of the building. The night air was cool and carried voices and engine rumblings from the parking lot out front. The only other person in the back was an older man, smoking while he walked a Yorkie in the pet area. Floodlights cast odd shadows around them.
“The guys will worry,” Quinn murmured. She leaned against a warped green picnic table, no longer bothering to hide her weakness.
“They’ll be fine. We’re supposed to take forever in the bathroom, right?” She helped Quinn sit. She needed food. “Be right back.” She hurried back to the vending alcove and bought a cola and bag of cookies.
They sat in silence for five minutes while Quinn ate. “Thank you,” she said to Riley when she’d emptied the cookie bag. “I didn’t even know I needed that. But now the shakes are gone, and my stomach is settled.”
Riley shrugged. “You looked like my hypoglycemic friend when her blood sugar tanked. Figured it couldn’t hurt.”
“You were right.” Quinn sighed. “We’d better get going before I crash again.”
“They’ll wait a few more minutes.” She didn’t know how much Quinn had told the guys, but the last few hours had made clear she was hiding how bad she continued to feel. Riley had a plan, but first she had to convince Quinn, then the guys. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Quinn sighed again and drank some of her soda. “I’m not sure I even know.” She picked at a section of peeling paint on the tabletop. “When I first pulled all this energy, all this power, from Anson, I could control it. But ever since we transferred Jennifer’s back to her, the rest has been…excited.” She waved her hand in circles up and down her body. “It never settles, just keeps whirling and churning. Sometimes it feels like it swarms out to my fingertips and toes, tugging. Trying to get home or something.”
“Whoa,” Riley breathed. “No wonder you look like—” She caught herself just in time, but Quinn laughed. Even in the odd lighting, Riley saw color returning to her face.
“Like shit? Yeah.”
Nothing Riley had felt in the last three years even came close to what Quinn was describing. But she could tell by the look on Quinn’s face that there was more. There was energy that couldn’t be returned. What would happen to Quinn when that was all that was left?
“What about the other energy? That doesn’t have a place to go?”
Quinn straightened her spine. “Beth’s power barely registers now. It’s not a problem.”
That brought it down to one that Riley knew of. “And Marley’s?”
Quinn gazed across the now-empty lawn. “I’d hoped I could return it to her, but the rift there is different from the others.” Her voice was low, regretful. “Not just a crack, but a hole. The part of Marley that made her a goddess is less dynamic every time I see her.” A tear tracked down her cheek. “If I hadn’t taken so long to find a solution, maybe things would be different.”
“Hey.” Riley laid a hand on Quinn’s arm. “It’s not your fault.”
Quinn sniffed and nodded. “I know. But I hate that I can’t help her. She’s my sister.”
There was a world of complication in the way she said that sentence. Riley closed her eyes against an answering swell of grief, of longing for her own sister. Of what could have been if she’d lived long enough to be a goddess, too.
But this wasn’t about her. She opened her eyes. “What’s wrong with Marley’s energy exactly?”
“It’s different from the others.” Quinn wiped her face with a napkin. “Beth’s energy is dissipating because its vessel is no longer alive. Marley’s energy has a vessel, but no way to connect to it because of the permanent damage. So it’s changed. It’s a dark, heavy mass. Almost…toxic.”
This was worse than Riley had thought. “Like poison?” she asked, aghast. “Is it poisoning you?” She didn’t need Quinn to answer verbally—it was clear in her eyes. Riley stood and clenched the trash in her fist. “This is stupid. You can’t handle another fourteen or more hours of driving.”
“I have no choice.”
“Yes, you do. You can fly.”
Quinn laughed. “Nick will never leave the Charger behind.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “You don’t think he cares about a car more than he cares about you, do you?” She threw the trash in a nearby garbage can and returned to the table to sell her plan to Quinn. “We’re near Knoxville. You can get a flight to Providence. That’s near Chloe’s, right? You can rest and then do the transfer.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows. “So you want all of us to fly?”
No. But it was the only option. “You need Sam. So, you three fly up. I’ll drive the car. I’ll probably get there right about the time you finish the transfer.”
“You think Nick will let you drive his car?” She smirked. “Or that Sam will leave you alone?”
Riley found herself fiddling with a long screw from her pocket. She’d been doing that all day, unconsciously reaching out to whatever metal was close at hand. But she never pulled any energy. The skin on her forearms stung whenever she even considered it.
“I think they’ll both do anything for you.” She glanced up to find Quinn staring at her with narrowed eyes.
“It’s not like that with Sam,” the older woman told Riley. “He’ll do just about anything for anyone in need.”
Ouch. Riley couldn’t stop herself from wincing at the implication that she wasn’t important.
Quinn rushed on, “No, I mean that his feelings for me are just friendship now. I promise you.”
The attempt to reassure her was backfiring. She hadn’t doubted that until Quinn found it necessary to say so. “That’s not the problem.”
Quinn took the bait. “I’d do anything for Sam, too. So if you think I’m blind to something he needs, you can tell me.”
Bingo. “Let’s just say Sam needs to speed this up as much as you do.”
Quinn looked stricken. “I didn’t realize it was affecting him that much…physically,” she admitted softly.
“So, you’re on board?” Riley asked.
“Yes. Let’s—”
Riley shot up off the bench. “Good. Stay here.” She ran back through the building to the parking lot. Nick and Sam were leaning against the hood and fender of the Charger.
Sam pushed away from the car, arms spread wide in obvious frustration. “What’s taking so long? I was about to come in there after you.”
Nick watched behind her. “Where’s Quinn?”
“She’s out back in the picnic area.”
“Alone?” Nick moved to walk by her, but Riley stopped him.
“She’s not doing well.”
Nick’s jaw clenched. “We don’t need you to tell us that.”
Riley folded her arms, ready to do battle. A few hours confined
with people told you a lot about them. Not only was Nick very proprietary about his car—something that had to be as much a symbol as a possession—as a protector, he probably hated the confined space and nonexistent escape routes on an airplane. Quinn was trying hard not to ask anything of him, nor to worry him any more than she was. And Sam had already made it clear he wouldn’t leave Riley behind.
“You need to get to Chloe’s faster.”
Nick scoffed. Sam threw him a look and said, “We’re already pushing the limit.”
“Yeah, so you need faster transportation.” She outlined the plan she’d already laid out for Quinn. Both guys were shaking their heads before she was halfway through.
“No way,” Sam said. “I’m not leaving you. We talked about that.”
“You have to,” Riley argued. “Quinn can’t handle the drive. She won’t be able to do the transfer if you force her to travel that way.”
A flicker went through Sam’s eyes. “Nick said she can’t fly, either. That’s why they drove to Mississippi in the first place.”
“This is worse,” Nick admitted. “But there’s stuff in that car we can’t just leave, and we can’t take on an airplane.”
Riley stayed silent and let Nick and Sam hash out alternatives, but she knew they’d come to the same conclusions she had. She liked Quinn and hated how much she was suffering, and would want to help her because it was the right thing. But she had deeper motivations. Sam had his own suffering that he would never reveal to Quinn and Nick unless he had to, and Riley knew the only way to end that was to get through it.
She turned to Nick, who stood silently nearby. “You can trust me with your car.” Riley steadily met his piercing stare and held out her hand. Half a minute went by.
“Hell.” Nick bounced the keys on his palm. “I can’t trust anyone with my car. But—”
“I know.” She shifted her hand forward a little. Nick dropped the keys into it, then snatched them back.
“At the airport.”
“No!” Sam held out his hands as if to separate the two of them. “I’m not agreeing to this. We know she’s a target. She can’t drive up there alone.”
“How is anyone going to know where I am?” Riley argued. “There’s no way for Anson to have any clue.”
Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select) Page 18