Sam cleared his throat and poked at a piece of chicken. “One died of complications from diabetes last year, unrelated. The other three, Jennifer, Tanda, and Chloe, are okay. Normal. But—”
“But not really,” Riley finished. “How could they be?”
The reality of their loss sat heavy in the silence for several moments.
“What about the power she pulled from him?” Riley asked when she couldn’t hold her curiosity in any longer. “Is it gone?”
“No, Quinn has it.” Marley’s tone cooled but not toward Riley. More like she wanted to be done with the conversation. “She says she’s working on a way to return the power to the leeched goddesses, but I’m a broken vessel, since I ignored all the fairy tales and warnings about bestowing power in the first place. I created the monster that did so much damage, so my punishment—besides my own leeching, which they deemed poetic justice—was to start the educational program that will hopefully prevent it from happening again. Among other things.”
Sam shifted on the couch, stretching one long leg under the table and bouncing the other knee. “Anson’s back,” he said, his jaw flexing.
Marley gaped at him. “What?”
“I think I saw him in Connecticut. He was following you,” he told Riley. “I wasn’t sure, I only caught a glimpse, but the more we talk the less likely I think it is that one party has been harassing you and someone completely different is approaching other goddesses.” He told them what he’d learned from John earlier that afternoon. “I have to figure out what he’s up to.”
Riley’s head spun with everything she’d learned tonight. “Why do you have to do it? Isn’t there some kind of authority in charge of that? The Protectorate?”
“We have a security team,” Marley explained. “But they don’t have to do much. We’re a pretty quiet community. They weren’t very useful last time.”
“And the Protectorate doesn’t investigate.” Sam stood and carried his dishes and some of the food containers to the kitchen area. “But it’s my responsibility anyway.”
“Oh, it is not.” Marley got up and followed him, and Riley scrambled to her feet, too.
“Anson was my college roommate,” Sam told Riley. A weight seemed to have settled on him, but one too heavy for what he was saying.
“So?”
“Everything he learned about goddesses, he learned from me.”
Marley made an exasperated sound. “That’s not true. You didn’t even know about leeching, and he made all his own choices. Like I did,” she added, as if used to holding up her own culpability before anyone else could. “All that’s over. He can’t leech anymore, Quinn assured us of that. So why does this have to be on your shoulders?”
Sam leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “Quinn’s sick.”
Marley halted halfway through stacking dishes on the counter. “Oh.”
Riley got the implication right away. “From the power she’s holding?”
“That’s what Nick says.” He abruptly unfolded his arms and turned to run water in the sink, squirting a stream of dish soap into it. “Anyway, whatever Anson’s up to, I want to get to the bottom of it before any of you get hurt.”
Marley handed Riley a towel and dumped a handful of silverware into the hot, soapy water. “We also need to bring you up to speed,” she told Riley. “The more you know about what you’re capable of, the better you can defend yourself. So let’s talk about your options.”
They discussed them while they did the dishes and cleaned the rest of the kitchen. There weren’t many. Most young goddesses had mothers and other relatives to help guide them, so their mentorship program was limited, and no other goddesses currently used metal. Classes on history and culture as well as safety and security weren’t scheduled for months, and Riley had her doubts they’d provide anything immediately helpful, anyway. But she found Marley’s stories interesting, and she was full of small details about the world Riley had just entered.
“I’m sorry,” Marley said after Sam had excused himself and carried his laptop into a bedroom. “This probably isn’t what Sam led you to expect.”
“Are you kidding? This is more than I’ve had in nearly three years. Knowing why goes a long way toward restoring my sanity.” She did a final swipe over the damp counter with a paper towel and nodded at Marley’s offer of coffee. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”
Marley stuck a single-serve cup into the coffeemaker and added water to the reservoir. “I should be thanking you. You listened to my story without judgment, and you haven’t made an excuse to run out of here. Why?”
“Why would I judge you?” Riley chose a hazelnut-flavored cup from the rotating stand on the counter. “It wasn’t like you were being malicious. You were in love.”
Marley laughed. “Maybe it’s because you’re so young. Most people think I should have known better.”
For the first time in a long time, Riley had a sense of friendship with someone. So she didn’t protest the “young” comment. It wasn’t like Marley, in her early thirties, was old by any means, but Riley didn’t feel what a normal twenty-three probably felt like. Even if she hadn’t gone goddess, losing her family forced her to grow up in a hurry. Being stalked, having all the important things in her life taken away from her, and struggling to survive on her own for the past six months also gave her a less superficial perspective on life.
Then again, none of that experience was in romance. Maybe she did have a more naïve viewpoint about being in love. At the thought, she couldn’t help but glance at the closed door hiding Sam from her.
They finished fixing their coffees and went back to the living room, where Marley talked as if she’d been alone for a decade. She asked Riley questions about her family and her life since they died, and in turn Riley learned all about the political structure of the Society, how much most people disliked Jeannine, the current president, and missed Barbara, the former president who’d all but disappeared into her townhouse, rumored to be in her last days.
“It’s sad, but she’s really old, so no one is really surprised.”
Marley also talked about the inn she owned in Maine as well as her family, about how her parents had Quinn too young and gave her up for adoption, and how they hadn’t met until Marley was thirty and even then only because Anson had targeted Quinn as his next victim. That was also how Marley met Sam, who was working for Quinn at the time, wink-wink-nudge-nudge, but Quinn was in love with her protector, Nick, and now they were together.
It was clear Marley was conflicted about her newfound family. She spoke about Quinn with respect, but Riley detected an undercurrent of a deeper despair or something equally painful, and she thought that was probably because of the power Quinn held, some of which used to be Marley’s.
Riley reeled from the bombardment of information and couldn’t help dwelling on the part about Quinn and Sam. The woman was apparently a hero, willing to make sacrifices for the people she cared about and even the greater community. Sometimes people like that were actually assholes, but what if she was as cool a person as she sounded? That was the last woman Sam had been involved with? Talk about a tough act to follow.
Marley cracked a yawn and uncurled herself from the sofa. “You’ve got to be wiped, after the long day you’ve had. Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.”
Once Riley was settled in bed a short time later, tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep. The caffeine could be a culprit, but that was minor compared to everything she’d learned today. And she kept thinking about Sam and how preoccupied he’d been since his meeting with John. He’d been especially uncomfortable whenever Marley talked about Quinn. How sick was she?
She rolled over and punched the pillow into a fluffier ball. Her eyes wouldn’t close, and her mind kept rolling things over in a big loop. The clock on the nightstand ticked over to midnight.
This was nuts. Lying here staring at glowing red numbers was not resting. She needed her mother’s vanil
la milk. That always worked when she was a kid and fretting about a test or just off her normal sleep cycle. The memory made her wish she were back there, when her biggest worry was not getting an A in geometry and she had no clue what was in store for her.
Would there be any vanilla in the kitchen? It wasn’t a typical staple, and this apartment was meant for temporary living. But it did keep forever. Maybe someone had made cookies or something and left a bottle.
She threw off the covers and quietly opened her door. The place was dark except for a faint glow from a bathroom nightlight, and silence came from the other two bedrooms. Either Sam didn’t snore, or he wasn’t sleeping very deeply himself.
Three steps took her to the kitchen area. She snapped on the light over the stove and started checking cupboards, being careful not to the let the doors bang closed. Bingo! A small bottle of artificial vanilla extract sat next to a few spices and disposable salt and pepper shakers. Riley grinned and set it on the counter. “Please let there be milk,” she whispered as she opened the fridge. Yes. A half-full quart sat on the nearly empty top shelf. She grabbed it and turned.
And almost slammed into Sam’s chest. She gasped and leaped back, her free hand slapping to her chest in a classic gesture of shock.
“Jesus Christ, Sam!” she whispered fiercely. “What the hell?”
“Sorry.” His voice was a low rumble, perfect for the intimacy of late night and darkness. He took the milk from her and closed the fridge door. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?”
She made some kind of sound of agreement but couldn’t manage more than that because Sam was wearing those sweats again and nothing else. And he was close, the narrow space between the stove and the breakfast bar behind them seeming so much smaller than when the three of them were doing dishes. Probably because then he’d been wearing a shirt. With long sleeves. Now she could see every groove of every curving muscle in his arms, the wide, hard expanse of his chest, and when he turned away to get a saucepan from a bottom cupboard, the amazing strength in his back and shoulders. Just enough of his heat reached her to make her aware of the chill in the apartment and imagine him folding her into his long arms, warming her head to toe.
Okay, she wasn’t chilly anymore.
The pan clattered a little when he set it on the stove, and Riley winced. “Shh. Marley’s sleeping.”
“She wears earplugs.”
Riley scowled, and Sam noticed. His dimple flashed. “When she first moved to Boston, she complained about the traffic noise at night. She’s used to living in an old inn in the Maine woods.”
She tried to toss off a casual shrug to pretend she hadn’t suspected—or cared—that he knew for a more personal reason. Sam backed away when she moved to the stove and flicked on a burner.
“You want some vanilla milk?” she offered. “I’m assuming you can’t sleep, either.”
“No, too much going on.” He leaned against the counter a couple of feet away and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’d love some. Never had vanilla milk. It works?”
She shrugged again and poured the milk into two mugs, then the pan. “There’s tryptophan in the milk, just like in turkey, and that’s what makes us sleepy after a turkey dinner. The warmth is soothing, and the vanilla just tastes good. I haven’t had it in years, though. Something made me think of it tonight and it seemed worth trying.”
Sam stood by silently while she added vanilla and sugar to the pan and stirred. Then there was nothing to do but wait. She stared awkwardly at the still milk and struggled for something to say. Sam was looking down at her, and between that and the growing need to flatten her hands on his chest, she couldn’t think of a word.
“I heard you and Marley talking earlier.” Sam unfolded his arms and braced his hands on the edge of the counter behind him.
Riley flushed, wondering if she’d said anything stupid or embarrassing. “I didn’t realize we were that loud.”
“You weren’t. Tiny apartment. Flimsy walls.”
She nodded and tore her gaze away from the stove. To look up at him hurt her neck, so she shifted to lean diagonally opposite him, putting a few feet between them. Sam’s gaze skimmed down her body, and a new wave of heat followed. Her oversized T-shirt and cotton sleep pants weren’t very sexy, but something put appreciation in his eyes.
He cleared his throat and turned to give the milk a stir before resettling into position. “Yeah, she told you about Quinn and me. I just wanted you to know that’s long over.”
Riley’s mouth twitched into a smile before she controlled it. Her heart bounced. There was only one reason for him to tell her this. “Okay.”
“She’s still my best friend, and I’d do anything for her and Nick. But that’s all there is.”
“Okay,” she said again, her pleasure fading when he lapsed back into concerned contemplation. “How sick is she?”
He sighed and pushed a hand through his shaggy hair, then leaned to glance down the hall as if to make sure Marley’s door was still closed. “I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Marley. Apparently, pretty sick. The power the leech took, it’s energy from four different goddesses. She’s not supposed to have it inside her like that, and I guess she’s starting to suffer for it.”
Riley didn’t understand. The energy she drew on left her when she used it. “Why can’t she expel it?”
“This is different.” He shook his head, rubbing one hand over his chest. “It’s more than just energy, it’s…I don’t know, potential? She can’t get rid of it, not without sending it back where it came from.”
“And she can’t do that?”
He winced. “Nick says they’ve found a way, but they need me to help.”
Riley felt a sinking disappointment. “Are you leaving, then?” A curl of steam rose over the pan, and she stepped forward to test the temperature, glad to be able to hide her expression from Sam. But his answer surprised her.
“No. Not now.”
She looked up, and his eyes were intense on hers. She swallowed. “Why?”
“Because I’m needed here. We need to figure out what Anson’s doing. John said he works for Millinger, and there are other people from that company approaching goddesses.”
“Attacking them?” It hadn’t occurred to her that Vern and Sharla and all the other harassment might not have been personal.
But Sam shook his head again. “No. Some of them are uneasy about the whole thing, but no one’s gone through what you have. Which makes me more concerned.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” She carefully poured the hot milk into the mugs. Being a target was bad enough, but for that to be part of some bigger plan added a new layer of nefariousness. “So what do we do?”
Sam accepted the cup and sipped, then smiled. “This is good.” He turned serious again. “We train you. Help you get some control over your abilities and learn what you’re capable of. Figure out what the deal was with your family, since that’s the other main reason we came here. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to figure out what the hell Anson and Millinger are up to, so we can stop them.”
Riley nodded. They drank in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Well, mostly comfortable. Every time he raised his mug, swallowed, licked his lips, something hungry got a grip inside her. She liked everything about him, from the shape of his mouth to the glide of his throat and the way his fingers wrapped almost all the way around his mug. Her body tingled, and she wished they’d met under different circumstances. When she wasn’t a lonely, clueless woman in jeopardy looking for him to save her.
When her mug was empty, she placed it and the pan into the sink to wash in the morning. “I think I can sleep now,” she lied.
“Me, too.” Sam’s arm stretched past her to set his mug next to hers, and he didn’t ease back afterward. Riley stood still, breathing faster, hoping he wouldn’t move away. Her nipples puckered against the soft fabric of her T-shirt. If he was looking, he had to notice. She soaked him in, just inches away, afraid to raise her head and fin
d that she was delusional, that he was oblivious to her proximity and examining the dirt on top of the refrigerator or something.
But then his hand nudged her chin upward. The heat in his gaze made her breath catch. Her mouth parted and his eyes lowered to it, eyelids dropping seductively.
“Thanks for the milk,” he murmured. His body tilted toward hers.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open, to keep her body from going completely soft in case this was all in her head and she was about to look very stupid.
But Sam slowly closed the distance between their mouths. A shiver went through Riley when they met, a gentle press, a perfect meeting with no awkwardness or misalignment. He smelled incredible, just himself this time, no city air or bar aromas mingling with pure Sam. Her hand came up to his chest, and his skin was hot despite the cool apartment. He made a small sound in the back of his throat, and then his hand pressed into the small of her back, pulling her closer. His mouth opened, parting her lips, and his tongue touched hers. Asking permission. She opened wider and he accepted the invitation with a sigh and a hint of hunger. His arms wrapped around her and his other hand cupped the back of her head. He surrounded her, and Riley melted with the realization that never in her entire life had she felt she belonged somewhere like she belonged here.
Sam slowly broke the kiss and loosened his hold. He wasn’t breathing hard like she was, but unsteadily, and she could have sworn his hand shook when it swept her hair back over her shoulder. He smiled, a promise, and Riley smiled back.
He kissed her on the forehead and murmured, “Goodnight, Riley. Sleep tight,” before sliding away. A moment later, his bedroom door clicked closed.
Hugging to herself the first sense of joy she’d had in a very long time, Riley went to her own room and fell asleep easily, a smile still on her face.
Chapter Six
All goddesses have a unique range and combination of abilities, generally with greater talent in one area and lesser ability in others. Some of the most common abilities include: Telekinesis, ability to heal, command over natural elements, transformative power over perception…
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