Twisted Miracles

by A. J. Larrieu

  “Look, while I was training with Jackson...” I couldn’t say it, but I didn’t have to. If he hadn’t seen it before, he would now. I couldn’t look at him.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  “You’re not upset?”

  “Of course I’m upset. But you don’t owe me anything. You made it pretty clear before you left that we weren’t together.”

  I didn’t have anything to say in response, but my mind called up the memory of Shane’s face in my head as Jackson kissed me, the way Jackson had pulled away. I might have made it clear to Shane that I didn’t want to be with him, but I hadn’t made it clear to myself.

  “He helped me. I mean, I never would have gotten as much control as I have now without him. I’m grateful for that. But...”

  “He wishes it had been more,” Shane said, and I nodded. “And you?” His voice was even. I searched my mind for his presence, but he had withdrawn, waiting for me to answer. With a little jolt of surprise, I realized he was going to let me lie. If I wanted to, he was going to let me say yes.

  “No,” I said, and he closed his eyes and nodded. “It just happened. I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

  He held up a hand, stopping me, and we were both quiet for a moment.

  “Has there been anyone else for you?” I asked him finally. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to know. I’d walked out on him, and it was none of my business whom he’d been with since, but I was suddenly terrified of how he’d answer.

  Shane met my gaze and didn’t look away. “Once,” he said. “About a year ago. It didn’t last long.”

  I was shocked by my surge of jealousy, but it blew away like smoke when I saw his face.

  “She could tell,” he said.

  “I’m sorry.” It seemed like too short of a sentence to cover all the leaving I’d done.

  “It’s okay. I get why you had to leave, now.” He paused. “Not that it wasn’t hell.” His mouth quirked into a sad, sideways smile. “You’re it for me, Cass.”

  He caught my gaze and didn’t look away. My breath hitched in my throat. We were sitting very close, our legs almost touching. If he’d reached for me then, I wouldn’t have turned away—couldn’t have. But I knew that wasn’t all he wanted. If I let him in, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with just sex. Fear and longing rose up in my chest, paralyzing me. Shane braced his hands on his thighs and stood.

  “I meant what I said,” he told me, and he leaned down to pick up the cooling frying pan with its scraps of fish. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.” And he walked away to the water with the pan.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We passed the next two days fishing and wandering around the edge of the lake. Shane was true to his word—he didn’t push. We mindspoke, but he never slipped past my surface thoughts, and he didn’t try to draw me deeper into his head.

  I’d hoped the pull would come by the end of the week, but night fell on Saturday and nothing had hit. I was starting to get anxious. We only had enough water for one more day. I wanted to send Shane back for provisions while I waited at the campsite, but he refused.

  “It’s not worth it,” he said. We were warming the tent up for the night, sitting at opposite ends of the small space to distribute the heat better.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Look, we can come back. I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

  “Fine. But tomorrow we should go check out some of those towns around the lake and see if there’s anything unusual out there.”

  “Like what? A bunch of dead bodies floating by the dock?”

  I glared at him. Neither of us had changed for bed yet, but by now it was warm enough for us to take off our jackets. I laid mine over my bag and got out the map, but as I was unfolding it, the lantern dimmed and went out. Cursing, I fumbled for the small flashlight I kept by my sleeping bag and flicked it on.

  “I’ve got extra batteries in the toolbox in the boat,” Shane said.

  “This is fine for now.”

  He scootched closer to me along the floor of the tent and looked over my shoulder.

  “Maybe we can make a circuit of the lake,” I said, moving the flashlight beam over the map. “Check out these towns to the north and the west.”

  The light behind me brightened as Shane conjured up one of his light balls.

  I switched off the flashlight. “You should save your strength.”

  “It doesn’t take much. Show me where you mean.”

  I pointed. “I have a hard time believing he’s hanging out in one of these little places, but I guess you never know.” If the font size was any guide, none of the towns near the lake had more than a couple thousand people each.

  “We’ll ride by tomorrow.”

  The light ball was floating over my shoulder, crackling softly. “Is that thing going to burn me?” I asked, and he laughed.

  “Nope.” He reached out and ran his fingers through it. “It’s just a little warm.” The ball wobbled in the air and then steadied itself, or maybe he steadied it.

  “How do you do that? You’ve never told me.”

  “It’s not easy to explain.”

  From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see his expression, but I could feel his breath on my shoulder. I remembered the look on his face two days before, sitting next to me on the log as we ate together, waiting. I knew that if I turned, I’d see that same expression—patient, calm, and underneath, the barest undercurrent of hope.

  “Show me,” I said.

  Shane went very still. The ball dimmed a little and dipped lower. “Are you sure?”

  The light spun barely an inch above the map. Slowly, I reached out and ran my fingers through it just as he’d done a moment before. They tingled with electric warmth, but I didn’t pull away. Shane still wasn’t touching me, but I was aware of every part of his body behind me. I nodded.

  The light winked out. Shane got to his knees and pulled me back, settling my shoulders against his chest. His hands slid along my arms until our fingers were laced gently together and his jaw was pressed to my cheek.

  “Relax.” His voice came in my mind, soft and deep. “Let me do the work.”

  I took a deep, halting breath. Shane’s mind brushed against mine, asking for entrance against my shields. I was so used to having them up around him, I wasn’t sure I knew how to let them down. Shane’s lips were next to my ear and he whispered, “Just let me in. I would never hurt you.”

  “I don’t know how,” I said, and Shane shifted behind me, pressing his body closer to mine. He stroked my arms and nuzzled my neck. The pressure of his mind grew more insistent, sharper.

  “Do you trust me?”

  I could feel the strength behind his words, and I knew he’d be able to push past my defenses whether I allowed it or not. I hesitated for a second, then I decided. “Do it.”

  I expected him to break through in a single, powerful thrust, but it wasn’t like that at all. He nudged through my shields softly, layer by layer, his mental touch as gentle as his hands roaming over my arms and shoulders. He kept going until I felt him in every part of me, until I was shuddering with the intimate intensity of his mind filling mine completely. It was as though I was gently possessed, invaded by a familiar spirit.

  “Like this,” he said, and my hands rose up, palms curved and facing each other. I tensed, unnerved by the feeling of another consciousness controlling my body, but I made myself let go, made myself surrender. My hands moved closer together, and a sensation like pressure built in the hollows of my palms. Shane guided my mind, showing me how to focus my power, and the pressure grew. My eyes flew wide open as the first motes of light appeared. They multiplied and collected into a tight ball, floating in the space between my hands. I gasped, and the ball of light crackled, white with energy and pulsing.

  “Hold it. You take over now.” He began to slide away from me, his control receding.

  “No! I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’ll be fine.” He relinquished
his hold on my mind, forcing me to take control. I concentrated on the ball of light in my hands, willing it to hover a few inches from my nose. It was like trying to hold a full beer bottle with only my pinkies—I had to focus to keep it from rolling out of my mental grasp. The ball spun and wobbled, throwing strange shadows onto the sides of the tent and shrinking as I struggled to keep it motionless. I could only manage it for a few minutes. When I released my focus, the light dissipated in a burst of sparks.

  I slumped back in Shane’s arms, exhausted.

  “Harder than it looks?” he asked, amused. It was completely dark in the tent again.

  “Much,” I said, panting.

  “It gets easier.” He smoothed sweaty strands of hair away from my face. “You did great.” He began to retreat, slipping out of my head. It was an aching, empty feeling, and it took a moment for me to recognize it as the same pain I’d lived with for years in San Francisco. For the first time, I realized what it was. Loneliness.

  “Wait.” I laced my fingers through his again.

  Shane went perfectly still.

  “Stay.” Before I could change my mind about it, I turned my head and kissed him.

  He was shocked motionless for an instant, but then he was kissing me back, hunger and surprise in the possessive pressure of his mouth. It was easier this time to let him in, and I shuddered as his presence steeped into me, his anticipation and excitement stoking my own. Our thoughts tangled together until I couldn’t tell them apart, and I realized that he was in deeper than before. There was nothing of mine he couldn’t access, no secret I could keep. My head was full of painful memories—the confusion after I’d killed Andrew, the countless nightmares I’d had in San Francisco, how I’d sobbed sitting down in the shower, wanting to go home and hating myself for it. My memories called up his, and I saw unfamiliar images of Shane jogging through the Quarter at dawn, trying to chase my face out of his head, the pain of missing me like pressure on an old scar. I had to fight down a sob, and I couldn’t tell if the remembered sadness was mine or his.

  “Shh,” he murmured, and I felt how his chest filled up being near me, how he trembled with hope that I’d stay for good. “That’s over now,” he said, but it was a question.

  I couldn’t form words, but I could form an answer. It was less a statement than a conviction, a realization of what I’d always known but could only now admit: I was his. Shane kissed me again, then broke away as his hands slid under my shirt and lifted it over my head.

  “Do you mean it?” He moved his mouth to my neck and rubbed the sensitive skin below my ear with his lips. I arched my back and tried to twist my arm behind me to unhook my bra, but my hand went back to my lap of its own accord. Shane’s mouth, pressed against my shoulder, curved into a smile as he unhooked my bra himself and threw it to the side. My breath started coming faster, a mix of lust and panic making my heart race. I tried to lift my hand again, but it was like the signal didn’t make it from my brain.

  Shane’s lips whispered over my jaw. “Do you really mean it?”

  I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn’t come, and, my hand, totally out of my control, slid under the waistband of my jeans. It stopped just below my belly button, teasing me. I could sense Shane everywhere, from the movement of my breath to the scrape of my toes against the tent canvas. I was afraid my heart would stop beating if he withdrew.

  “Yes,” I said, and I was answering him and pleading with him at the same time.

  He laid me back against his chest. My fingers slid to my center and parted it, and I drew in a sharp breath. I was wet, and Shane gave a low moan as my fingers stroked softly, slick with arousal. I felt him grow hard against me, pressing against the small of my back. His erection was hot against the skin of his belly, trapped not quite comfortably against his waistband. He reached forward and unbuttoned my jeans, sliding my hand farther down. My other hand lifted up and cupped my breast, then gently squeezed the nipple.

  It made me gasp, and Shane gasped, too, twisting with the same sharp pleasure. His arm banded around me, holding me against him, and I moaned, caught up in the strength of him, loving the warmth of his hard chest at my back. I felt him smile.

  “I like feeling what you like.” He increased the speed of my fingers, testing. I cried out, and he tipped my head back and answered me with a full, searching kiss, his tongue flicking out to swirl against mine. He groaned as the twin sensations of his pleasure and mine came over him.

  I wanted his skin on mine, and even as I thought it, Shane was pulling off his shirt. He used his mind to strip off my jeans and underwear, arranging his legs on either side of me. My legs spread farther apart, and his hands ran over my hips, my waist. The skin of my thighs was pressed against the denim of his jeans, and the roughness of the fabric made me shiver.

  “Yeah?” He ran his hand lightly over my belly and shifted his legs, chafing them against me. His erection was hard against the curve of my ass, and the pressure of it made me yearn for him. But he didn’t move to take off his jeans.

  Instead, the hand he’d been using to touch me came up, and he took my finger in his mouth and sucked, swirling his tongue over the pad. I moaned as he made my hand trace a damp line from my neck back down to my center. It was an erotic rush, letting him take control of my body so completely, feeling him quiver just as I did.

  “Please,” I said, almost frantic with desire. I wanted to arch my back and press against my hand. I wanted to throw him down and straddle him and see how it felt to take him in again. Shane chuckled, then gasped as he thrust my own finger inside me. He wasn’t prepared for the strength of my reaction any more than I was, and we both cried out as the tingling warmth of a building orgasm spread out to the tips of my toes.

  “So this is what it’s like for you.”

  “It gets better. If you’d keep going...”

  “So impatient,” he said, but I felt him wanting it, too, and he reached down with his own hand to touch me.

  “So good. Oh, God,” he said. As he worked my clit, he guided my own fingers deeper inside me, searching for the spot he knew would make me crazy. Feeling what I felt, knowing instantly what gave me the most pleasure, he found the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm, and maintained it, not relenting for a second. My body jerked uncontrollably, but he held me fast against him, whispering in my ear, “That’s it, baby. I want to feel you come.”

  I moaned as he nuzzled my throat. I wanted to tell him to keep going, that I was close, but he already knew, even without the gasping cries coming from my mouth. As my climax came closer, he turned my head and kissed me, using his tongue and taking me over completely as I rose to the edge. When I came in a hard, glorious explosion, my eyes flying open, my limbs going limp, I heard him cry out in harmony with me.

  He collapsed backward and withdrew from my mind slowly, leaving me with the sensation of his satisfaction. I lay down across his chest, my head tucked under his chin. “I love you, Cass,” he said, so softly I barely felt it.

  Right before we drifted off to sleep together, I said, “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I woke up warm and happy.

  Shane wasn’t in the tent, but I felt the touch of his mind, and I could tell he was out fishing for breakfast.

  “Morning,” I sent to him, and in his head I sensed his smile. “Any luck?”

  “Heaps of it,” he said, then, “Oh, you mean with the fish?”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, but I was smiling.

  I packed up the camp while I waited, using my powers so I could stay by the fire. I couldn’t help feeling disappointed as I rolled the tent up and shoved it into its nylon case. I’d been hoping for another vector, and I was afraid our rogue converter would strike again when we got back to the B&B. Useless.

  “You think it would be all right with Lionel if we came back out in a couple days?”

  “Anything you want, baby,” he replied, and I caught an image in his head of the two of us tangled together
on a sleeping bag, a clear night sky above us.

  I smiled. “Your priorities—” I began, but I didn’t get any further. I was cut off mid-sentence by the awful, stomach-churning feeling of a pulling surge cutting through me.

  I had to lean against a tree for support. The pull was strong, almost as strong as the one I’d felt at the B&B when Mina had been attacked for the second time. I hadn’t called him, but Shane was already running back as I scrambled through my bag for the map. He must have felt the impact of the pull in my mind. He came up to my side, still holding his fishing pole and breathing hard, and I grabbed the compass and marked the vector.

  “That’s where it came from,” I said, pointing at a peninsula jutting out into the lake from the western shore. On it was a little town labeled Briny Point. “I’d bet money on it.”

  We looked at each other, and Shane said, “Let’s go.”

  We had the boat packed in under ten minutes. Shane piloted, and I concentrated on the diminishing feel of the surge, adjusting our course as we went. The trail faded completely as we reached the center of the lake, but with the other two vectors coming close to the spot, I was fairly certain of our destination. As we drew near the shore we saw a weathered wooden dock jutting into the water from a marshy bank, and Shane tied the boat off while I tried to sense any lingering aftershocks. There was nothing.

  There wasn’t much to Briny Point, either. From the dock, I saw a gas station, a post office, a shop selling fishing tackle and bait, and a ladies’ clothing store called Briny Point Fashions, featuring a headless mannequin wearing pale yellow leggings and a large floral-print T-shirt. To the west was a cluster of one-story houses and trailers next to a largish church. From the number of cars parked on the dredge shell lot out front, the place was packed.

  “Must be some service. Do you think it draws from the neighboring towns?”

  “I definitely don’t think all those folks are Briny Point natives,” Shane said. “Let’s go check it out.”