Hunting the Shadows

by Alexia Reed

  This man had put Amy through hell.

  “Come near her or mess with me again and you’re going to get a firsthand experience of what I’m capable of. Step out of line again and you better run.”

  * * *

  J.C. shot a glance at the clock, frowning at the time. Amy had been outside on the balcony for over an hour. He filled a mug of boiled water and added the package of instant hot chocolate. After stirring the hot liquid, he carried it from the community kitchen, stepping out into the night, the air dampened with the smells of autumn and rain.

  “Want to talk?”

  She didn’t jump at his approach, did nothing but look out at the dark silhouette of trees and mountain ridges. “About what?”

  He shrugged, handing her the mug. “Whatever has you out here alone,” he murmured. He stepped close, placing his palms on the rails on either side of her. Cocooning her against his warmth. He brushed his lips over her temple. “It’s been a long day.”

  She looked back at him and he saw a glimpse of something, a flicker of a shadow in her eyes. “It’s just…all of this.” Her voice hardened. “I killed a man yesterday. I shouldn’t care. It was me or him. But I made the decision to end his life. Not Broderick or Rick. Me.”

  He ran his finger along her jaw, feeling the tension there when she gritted her teeth. “Is that really what’s bothering you? That you had to do something out of necessity?”

  She sighed. “No, I suppose not.” Her fingers tightened around the mug as she lifted it to her lips, tasting the hot liquid with a tentativeness that drew his attention. Surprise widened her eyes. She swallowed more, her lips curving. “Oh. This is good. What is this?”

  “Hot chocolate.” He’d forgotten. She wouldn’t have had such delicacies as chocolate all her life and it warmed him that he could share moments like this with her. It was dangerous thinking. “Finish what you were saying.”

  Her eyes flicked to his then back over the balcony into the darkness below. “I don’t understand. Someone hired those men to hurt me. To kill me.”

  He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Including himself.

  Nudging her away from the rail, he lowered himself onto a bench, waiting until she followed him onto it to catch hold of her ankles and lift her legs up.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Relaxing you.” He tugged off her shoes and socks, drawing her feet into his lap. His thumbs massaged her arches. “Broderick sent those men to test you.”

  “Why?” Anger sharpened her tone.

  “He wanted to see what you could do outside of a lab setting, without the restrictions of being told.” A muscle ticked at the edge of J.C.’s jaw. He shifted his attention, concentrating on her ankle and the tight tendons. “I wasn’t supposed to interfere. You were supposed to handle all three men.”

  “I’m going to kill him.” The venom in her words made him smile. And yet, actions spoke louder. She didn’t have it in her to be a killer. He’d witnessed that. Oh she could do the act, but her conscience wouldn’t let her get away with it.

  “If that were the answer, someone would have killed him long ago. He’d just be replaced. Sometimes, it’s easier to deal with the enemy you know than one you don’t.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “Is that what you want? Would you rather I lie to you so you can live in a little fantasy world where none of this exists? It doesn’t work that way and I won’t do it. You need to know the threats so you’ll be ready. You don’t want to live with your head under the blanket all your life, afraid of the monsters.”

  He moved his hands along her ankle, up her leg to her knee, then kneaded his way back down.

  “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

  He stretched his legs out, locking them at the ankles as he leaned back. “Is that all that’s bothering you?”

  Her lips curved wryly. She lifted the mug to her mouth. “No, that’s not all that’s bothering me. Killing that man came too easy. What’s becoming of me, J.C.?”

  “You’re not a killer. Trust me, your soul isn’t as dark as you think it is because of what you’re capable of doing.”

  “It’s not the first time I’ve killed.”

  The words were so low he barely heard them. “What do you mean? In Testing?” He’d read her last report. Because the details had been lacking, he’d logged into the Centre network and watched the video. He hated what she’d been subjected to, that someone had used her trust and twisted the good inside her.

  “No. Before the psych ward got all strict and gave their doctors and guards wrist bands to block me from entering their minds, I’d been friends with another patient. He was a low grade telepath next door to me. We used to talk at night, but he was black marked.”

  He sensed where this was going. He squeezed her ankle lightly before making circular motions with his thumb and fingers over the sole of her foot, adding slight pressure to her heel.

  “He was taken down into the labs. Because he had some telepathy, they wanted to monitor him while he was awake in order to figure out more about how it works. They were cutting into his skull. He was awake with a weak anesthetic… He felt it.” She swallowed and closed her eyes tight. “I couldn’t let him suffer.”

  He’d never done the procedure, but he’d heard of others who did. It was one of the reasons he wanted to destroy this place and take down the Council.

  “I was so deep in his head that I got locked in. I couldn’t get out and when they began cutting, I felt it. I was there…through each dissection they made with those sharp scalpels.”

  Her voice snagged, tears spilling from her lashes. Setting her empty mug aside, he twisted, easing her body toward him until she was in his lap. Her face turned, pressing against his throat.

  “I’m sorry.” His words sounded so lame. Sorry didn’t cut it. The procedure was barbaric. The Council had no qualms about getting information however they needed to. Torture was nothing to them, especially when they weren’t the one who inflicted the suffering. They could hide behind the order and still go back to their beds at night and sleep without a second thought.

  “I couldn’t take it anymore. I was the one who fought the scientists and guards every time they came in my room. I was the one who used my abilities against them and yet, they took him away. All because he wasn’t as strong psychically.” Her breath hitched. “I shorted out his synapses.”

  “You killed him.”

  She nodded as she chewed on her bottom lip. “He was suffering. I almost killed myself in the process. An aneurysm ruptured and I slipped into a coma.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seventeen. When I woke up, I freaked out. The doctors tried to contain me but I struck out telepathically by accident. I didn’t know what I was doing or what was happening.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. You know that right?”

  “He was innocent.”

  “Innocence doesn’t matter to these people.” She glanced up and he wiped the tears from her cheeks. Reaching out, she touched a scar that ran along his arm to his wrist.

  “When I first woke—” Amy skimmed her fingers around his arm, following the curved line, “—I could barely use my abilities. It didn’t take Rick long to figure out what I’d done and he wanted to repeat it. I refused…until the other day when he forced me to simulate a stroke in that patient. I’m dangerous.”

  He frowned. “You are. That doesn’t make you a monster though. You’re a good person, Amy.” Better than him.

  “Thank you.”

  He lifted a brow. “For?”

  “Being you.” Her hand found his. “For telling me the truth. I’m not good at this. I can’t put my emotions aside and forget when someone tries to kill me.”

  He
stared down at their intertwined fingers, rubbing his thumb along hers. “Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. It’s who you are. Don’t ever let anyone change you. Broderick is going to try. That’s guaranteed. But I’m going to be here for you.”

  “Why me?” she asked and shifted to face him. “Other than the fact that I can get in the head of killers, why are you trying to help me? You didn’t have to bring me outside, but you did.”

  He chuckled. That was the golden question, wasn’t it? “Because you’re smart and beautiful…” She tilted her face up at him. Lifting their hands, he pressed them to her cheeks, “…and you don’t know the meaning of personal space.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “You bring something out in me. A side I thought was destroyed by Broderick and the Council long ago.” Easing his hand free from hers, he feathered his thumb along her jaw. Maybe he was helping her because she saved him from Ashton. Or was he trying so hard because of Leila?

  “You can be really sweet, Jaegar-Caleb Nikolaiev.”

  “Don’t let that get around.”

  She laughed, the sound of it tightening his chest. When she smiled, he traced her lips and remembered the feel of them against his.

  He angled his head down, his mouth pressing lightly to hers. She didn’t move away but lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck to pull him closer.

  The kiss was light, a brush of mouths that tempted and drew a response from him. He pressed his tongue against her lips and the moment she yielded with a sigh, he slid it inside to taste. Chocolate and vanilla. So sweet that he cupped the back of her head, shifting her so that he could have a deeper taste.

  His other hand slid down her back, guiding her body, directing her onto her knees to straddle him. He nuzzled her throat, nipping at her pulse.

  “J.C.?”

  He lifted his head. “Yeah?”

  “Do that again.”

  He hardened at the simple request and bent his head, focusing on the spots below her ear until a shiver worked its way through her body. She offered more, letting him have as much access as he wanted. J.C. smiled, dragging his mouth down over her soft skin to the opening of her shirt. He wanted to touch. Wanted to taste.

  “You make me feel.”

  He looked up. “What?”

  “I thought that I was broken, that I couldn’t…that…” she stuttered, “I mean, I…well…”

  He smiled at the flush of her cheeks as she struggled to find the words. “Trust me, you’re not broken. Far from it.”

  “Make me feel more. Please? I want to know what it’s like.”

  He wanted her. All he had to do was push her onto her back and strip her naked. Because it was way too easy to imagine, because he wanted it too much, he set her aside.

  “What are you doing?”

  He reached for her hand, pressing his lips to her wrist and then her palm. “We’re not doing this.” He shook his head and tried not to see the hurt in her eyes, but he had to get the words out before he gave in to his urges. “We can’t. It breaks scientist/patient protocol.”

  “I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  He ran a thumb over her wrist, linking his fingers with hers. “If we were to do anything, it’d be wrong. You don’t know what you’re feeling. This is all new to you.”

  Broderick would take her away. He’d lose her and his chance to catch the killer.

  “You make me feel, yes,” she said slowly, “but it’s different.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You touch me and it’s like I’m on fire. In the good way. You touch me and my skin absorbs the feel of you and it’s like I’ve been starved of sensation forever. I want more.”

  And he thought he was going to be able to resist her? The woman was undoing him, a seduction without her knowing. She was a menace with those blue eyes and kissable lips. “Darling, it’s called desire.”

  She smirked in a way that made him so damn hard. “No, I know what desire is. This is something different. When Rick—or anyone—touches me it’s like someone is stabbing needles through my skin. Sometimes, the pain is so bad I think that I’ll pass out and yet I don’t.”

  “And me?”

  “Nothing. No pain.”

  He settled himself on the bench as she rose. “Amy, have you ever told anyone? That’s not normal. It’s probably a side effect of all the medications.”

  “And how do you explain why I don’t feel it when you touch me?”

  He frowned. “I don’t have an explanation but the point is that this isn’t normal.”

  “Why is it so easy for me to get inside your head?” she questioned, going toe to toe with him. “I did something, I think. When I went inside your head and copied your memories. I think it changed something about us. Linked us. I think that’s why there’s no pain, because a part of you stuck.”

  Was that possible? The scientist in him was intrigued. The man, unsure what to believe. What experiments could he run to test her theory? There weren’t any that would explain this.

  How was a person to feel when he’s told that he’s the only one who invokes such a reaction in a beautiful woman? As possessive as it made him feel, they weren’t going to act on anything.

  Amy was already a target. He wouldn’t risk her safety for a night of passion, because that’s all it could ever be.

  No matter how much he wanted her, she could never be his.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was quiet. Almost too quiet. She wasn’t sure what to do with all this…silence. She’d never had to deal with being alone in her mind, with not having someone else there in one form or another.

  Glancing down at the band, Amy fingered the leather. She could slip into J.C.’s mind if she needed some form of mental interaction, but for the moment she let herself adjust to the silence, for once in her life.

  “If you’re afraid, I can sit with you for a bit.”

  She jumped, nearly coming off the chair. Stiffening, she glanced at the small dark haired boy. Wary eyes met hers. His muddied pants were torn at the knee, dried blood scabbed along his forehead.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I can sit with you if you don’t want to be here alone.” His voice shook but he nodded toward the open lab door where J.C. was working—had been for the last three hours as he leaned over a microscope, going through slides of evidence from Teresa and Leila’s deaths. “I have to go in there but I’d rather sit out here for a bit. My name’s Drake.” A small hand extended toward hers.

  She stared down at the short fingers and the dirtied palm. “Amy.”

  His childish laugh made her feel foolish—she’d expected danger in the form of this young boy. Shooting him a shaky smile, she took back her hand and rubbed her palm along her thigh at the greasy feel of energy residue.

  The boy was branded. All psychics had an energy fingerprint, each unique. For the most part, it was static. The boy’s was different. It fluctuated, changing as her mind tried to process it.

  At her frown, Drake shifted his gaze to the floor. “What?”

  She shook her head and got to her feet, putting distance between them. “Nothing.” Dizziness stole her breath. Lifting her hand, she pressed it against her forehead. Chills climbed up her spine, settling at the base of her neck. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

  It wasn’t nothing, but she had no idea how to put it into words.

  “Are you ok?”

  “I need…” Hell, she didn’t know. A feeling of foreboding tightened under her skin, making her antsy with the knowledge that she was missing something big. She stared at Drake and the more she watched him, the more the cold settled into her bones.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She swiveled around to the open doorway where J.C. stood, a sc
ream locked in her throat. “Damn you.” She pressed her palm to her chest where her heart raced. “Don’t sneak up on me when I—”

  Her words were muffled against his chest as he pulled her into his arms. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her muscles to relax. He was so warm and she was freezing. Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. It was as though she was drowning and couldn’t get enough air. She tried to pull free from the feeling, but the memory skipped along the edges of her mind.

  Her jaw hurt from grinding her teeth. She felt something on her face and forcing one hand to open, lifted it to swipe at the blood under her nose. “I—” When her legs gave out, J.C. kept his arms around her, lowering her to the ground. “J.C., the boy…”

  J.C.’s fingers clasped at her wrist. She watched his mouth move but heard nothing over the loud buzzing in her ears.

  Her gaze fell on Drake and stayed there.

  She caught the boy’s hands, pulling him down in front of her, his small face white with terror.

  Images flashed through her mind. Blood. Death.

  “He’s marked,” Amy whispered. When she let go, he stumbled back, his eyes wide.

  It was thick around her, the energy signature calling to her memories like a Pied Piper. She remembered the shadowed figure. Even when she was a child he visited her in the middle of the night. She’d always thought…had always figured it’d been a figment of her imagination since she could never see clearly. But it hadn’t been.

  “Amy, you need to snap out of it. Now,” J.C. ordered, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

  Her body jerked. “The killer touched him.” Her voice shook, scraped raw with emotion. “And me…he’s been feeding on us.”

  She pulled away from his touch. When J.C. disappeared into his lab and came back out with a needle, she shook her head. “I’m not crazy.”

  Whenever things had gotten out of hand, they’d drugged her because it was easier, because they didn’t know how to deal with a telepath who kept phasing in and out of their minds.