Allied: A Superhero Reverse Harem Romance (The PTB Alliance Book 3)

Home > Other > Allied: A Superhero Reverse Harem Romance (The PTB Alliance Book 3) > Page 9
Allied: A Superhero Reverse Harem Romance (The PTB Alliance Book 3) Page 9

by Katelyn Beckett


  His voice held a note of panic that made me clench my teeth. "You sound like a civilian."

  That was enough. Scribe cleared his throat and waited on the other end of the line. I didn't take the bait, instead hanging up and tossing the phone up on the couch once more. The damn thing was on silent, he could wait until I was no longer busy.

  I tucked my head against Cassie's and looked into her eyes.

  I looked into her eyes. Oh. Fuck.

  "I heard that," she murmured.

  The world ended, just like that. Everything was fucked. I stared down at her. "It's not what you think it is."

  "Were it what I think it is, I'd be beating your head in right now. But I'm waiting. I'm listening."

  She meant it, too. A Blitzer probably had the edge over a Pyro like me. Someone strong and fast, with too much speed and too much force? Sure, I could blind her or fry her, but I didn't have the heart to do either. God, we'd just gotten back together. Couldn't the world give us a break?

  Sighing, I nestled her. "I'd rather tell everyone at once. That way, if they all decide I'm an idiot, I can just deal with it once."

  "You don't have that option. You just told me you told him to go fuck himself when he asked you to spy."

  "I -did-."

  Her eyes narrowed. "And, so what? He blackmailed you or something?"

  "Why would I really tell him to go fuck himself when I could play double agent?" I asked, watching for her reaction.

  It wasn't entirely true, but I couldn't trust that she would understand the fine details. Cassie was brilliant, gorgeous, and everything my heart desired. But she was blunt, rash, and she was not the sort to play games. I knew, when Scribe approached me, that I had a golden opportunity to not only work through whatever the hell was going on at HQ, but to get closer to him and try to understand his motivations.

  The thing was, they didn't seem to be rational ones. I had a theory, but I hadn't confirmed it. Given where I was, with the tools I had, I doubted that I was going to be given the chance to do it, either.

  "You have some way to prove that you're really out for us and not for him? You playing double agent sounds like a great way to dismiss anyone's concerns, Emb. And I don't think we have time to work with someone we can't trust. We're not punching a bad guy we're going to war with our own people."

  I ran the tip of my tongue over my top lip and thought it through. "We could put it to a vote, I guess. But there's nothing else that I can do to prove to you that I'm on our side, not his. I tried to get close to figure something out. I failed, but I have plenty of evidence of what I think is happening. I just can't prove it without a shadow of a doubt."

  "And what do you think is happening? Scribe's gone nuts. My cousin's a traitor. She's dragging the entire Alliance down with her even after she's freaking dead," Cassie snapped. "Adam almost died and I don't even know if I can trust you now."

  "I think it's the Kipas."

  Her head tilted to the other side than it had before, staring at me as if I'd lost my damn mind. And, had I been on the other side of it, I would have felt the same way. The Kipas had landed on Earth a long time ago. It had been a full-scale invasion, killing thousands. But in the end, they'd narrowed in on a few Alliance-guarded areas. Why? My theories supported the idea that they were drawn to superhero power, whatever that extra was that we had over the common guy. But I didn't know for sure.

  "You're losing your shit," Cassie frowned. "The Kipas are an annoyance. Yeah. Sure. But they're just like, space-station grunts. They come down, we kick their asses, and ship them off to Area 51. ...Or Area 52, or whatever. At this point, they probably have a bunch of different areas just... just to..."

  The frown deepened. I nodded. "Hell of a lot of Kipas the past few years. They don't seem to be slowing down and our problems only get worse. You ever notice we have Kipas show up right before someone loses their shit? And they're almost always in close contact with them."

  "Scribe wasn't."

  I shrugged. "Scribe was in close contact with someone who had been in close contact with them. Maybe whatever space stuff is in them fucks up superheroes. Because it isn't doing it to the general population."

  "You think we're infected with some kind of weird space sick that makes us nuts?"

  That one took me a second. It was one way to put it, but it didn't feel quite right. "Maybe not that exactly, but something like it? More like, maybe their general energy conflicts with ours and causes some kind of reaction. Adam's nosebleeds only got worse after they showed up. You poisoned me. Allison went nuts. Your folks have been incredibly distant-"

  "Well, they weren't the best parents to begin with."

  "That's beside the point," I said, waving it away. "I think if we cut off the Kipas from getting into our world, completely cleanse ourselves and get rid of them, then we have a good chance to return life to normal."

  She sighed. "Normal would be nice. For a little while, at least. I'm not saying I want to retire or anything-"

  "If you do, I'll bring home the bacon," I offered.

  A smile fluttered to life on her face. "And the bread? Some milk? You gonna take your ass to the supermarket after a long day of hero work?"

  "Only if I get to set the uniform for you at home," I said. "A little frilly apron, says "kiss the cook" on it. Maybe some kitten heels and stockings?"

  "And what else am I wearing?"

  I blinked. "Not a damn thing."

  The smile grew but she ignored me. "I think it's only fair that we have a vote, Emb. And you need to come forward with this to the rest of the group. It's important. If we can't trust each other, we're already screwed. And we're pretty close to that, anyhow. I want you on our side, but maybe the others don't feel like we can have you. I don't want it to come out in the middle of a fight and distract everyone."

  "That's fine," I said. "Throw some clothes on and go get the rest of them. I'll make pancakes and they can decide whether I'm in or out over breakfast."

  Chapter 10

  Bacon sizzled, pancakes bubbled, and eggs wept for their fleeting lives as Nishelle made an entire army's worth of food and served it up like it was no big deal. She'd come from an enormous family, the eldest of many siblings, and she'd developed some crazy skills with a stovetop because of it. I watched as she worked, mystified. It took me half an hour to put out what she could in five minutes.

  If she survived her mini-tribunal, I really needed to get around to asking her how she did it. But I wasn't entirely certain that she was going to survive.

  Nate, Isabella, and Lexi woke up easily enough. Edwin groaned when I shook his shoulder, but grabbing his ass made him jump. My still-wet hair slapped against my neck as I hunted Adam. Logan hadn't been lying when he said the damn place slept 20; and most of the beds were single-occupant. I'd grabbed a quick shower before throwing on yesterday's clothes, Nishelle's scent still all over them. Wrapping myself in her again felt right and it soothed the part of me that was so very tired of a fight that we just couldn't seem to win.

  I slipped into the last bedroom on the left and found him there. Adam was curled up in a ball, his knees drawn to his chest as he snored on his side. The thing was, Adam never snored as loudly as he was. I crept up on him, which was a stupid thing to do in retrospect, and touched his side. "Hey?"

  The floor flew up to greet me. The bed squeaked and snapped in two. Every single plant snapped through its fancy pot and dropped to the ground, their leaves clinging to the floor as if they needed to hold on for their tiny lives.

  "Whosoever wakes me from my slumber will face insurmountable odds!" bellowed Adam, all thunder and Creed-like fury.

  There was no way I could get up. Hell, I couldn't even answer him. He looked left, then right, and it took him a solid minute to realize that someone was on the ground in front of him. I groaned as he released the gravity back to normal within the room. "What the fuck was that about?"

  "Paranoia. Still kind of twitchy after everything that's gone down in the pa
st little while. You okay?" he asked, offering me a hand.

  I took it and dragged myself back to my feet, joints I didn't know I had screaming at me for the abuse they'd just endured. "No. That hurt."

  "Better than you getting in my head, if you weren't really you," he said. "Sorry, though. I didn't mean to crank it up that high."

  "You just going to be weird and reactive for the rest of time now?"

  He shrugged and reached for his shirt. "Probably for a while. But I'll try to make sure you don't end up in the crosshairs of it in the future. Who's cooking breakfast?"

  "Nishelle. And we're going to have a little talk about her in a minute, too."

  "Did something happen?" He paused, then he beamed. "Is she joining the team?"

  I frowned. "The team?"

  "Yeah. Our little super squad. For honor, glory, and you moaning all our names at the top of your lungs."

  I shoved him, not so hard that he staggered or anything, but enough to make a point. "Come on. But yes, maybe. She did a dumb thing, but I'm not really mad about it. Some of you might be, and that's why we're having a little talk in a minute, Adam."

  "What'd she do?"

  "I'll talk about it with everyone at once. It's easier that way."

  And I left him to getting dressed. Besides, the mystery would just spur him along. Adam loved to figure things out. He acted like a simple idiotic goofball, but I was steadily finding that he was so much more. Kind, gentle, sometimes scared out of his mind, how was it that the biggest, strongest, and possibly the most feared of my men, was the most vulnerable?

  You talk to so many guys who put up a giant show of bravado. Adam was no different, but he dropped it entirely around me. It made me feel all warm and snuggly inside, like someone had crammed me into a toaster oven for a little too long. And, to be honest, his touch did the same thing to me.

  Before everything went down, I needed to make sure I had a little more of that touch. You know, to get me through the upcoming peril and panic. It was only fair.

  The rest of the group had, more or less, assembled by the time I got down there. Syrup and coffee were being passed around and I watched, just for a moment, at our little family being so incredibly normal. If we weren't superheroes, or if the world was a sane place, would we all still be connected like this? Would this be our typical Sunday mornings, maybe with a few kids running around after a handful of years?

  Or would we shatter to pieces the second the danger and crazy was burnt from our lives? So many superheroes didn't know what to do with themselves after they retired. They went to odd ends or they turned into shells, just staring at relics of their past and wishing for those days to come again.

  I never wanted to be those people. They often lost contact with those who loved them or the ones who had been their partners. Divorce was common, with so many drawn to the mystery and passion of saving the civilian world. Many drawn to that didn't want to deal with the broken-down person that superheroes often were afterward.

  Was I condemning Nishelle to that if they voted no? She'd be swept away from the rest of us, ignored, and lost. Would she retire? Run somewhere else; maybe across the world to be some shining beacon for the treatment of women in her area?

  I couldn't see her like that, didn't want to see her like that. I sighed and sank into a chair with the rest of them. Nate passed me a huge platter of pancakes. I could barely see over them, but that was fine with me. I was starving.

  Once Adam joined us and was served a comparably enormous plate, Nishelle picked up a mug and tapped a fork against it. The musical clink-clinging was enough to draw everyone's attention away from their food. She set the cup down and began.

  "I did something wrong. It's a technicality, but I still want to come clean. When I got control of myself again, Scribe contacted me. He asked if I would be interested in being his eye on all of you, when we were outside of the areas he could control. And I agreed to it."

  She spoke quickly but not quietly. A few people muttered, but most of them simply listened. Nishelle paused, waiting for someone to interject. When it didn't happen, she continued. "I haven't passed him anything, not since I joined up with the rest of you right after the hospital. And I didn't know anything before that. He's tried to ask me questions, poked me for information, but I tell him the most banal things. Adam likes chicken. Nate took his clothes to the cleaners. Stuff like that. Meanwhile, I've been outwitting him this entire time for the benefit of the group."

  "Like how?" Adam asked, spotting ketchup down his eggs. I made a face at him. Ew.

  Nishelle cocked her head at him. "Like misguiding him about the type of car Cassie stole to bring you guys over here. I gave him a similar year, make, and model, but it was the wrong one. It's probably why the cops didn't pull you over."

  "That's pretty good. Subtle," Nate said, approvingly. "Something that could be explained away by a simple mistake or by your saying you didn't know, that you were just guessing. It's smart."

  "Thank you," she said. "But I have to know if you can trust me. I won't ask you to do it, but I hope that you will. I haven't betrayed anyone here. I don't intend to do it. But it's reasonable to be wary of my intentions until I've proven them."

  Nishelle said the last of it with a shrug and sat back down in her seat. There were a few wary glances traded between people as I dug into my pancakes.

  And then suddenly everyone was looking at me. I blinked at them, swallowed, and said, "What?"

  "You know her best, Sosie," Izzy said. "I think it's sensible to leave it up to you."

  "If anything, I'd think you'd consider my opinion incredibly bias. She's my girlfriend."

  Nate nodded. "But she wasn't for a while. And Izzy has a point. Would she stab us in the back?"

  "Pfft. No." How could they ask that? Nishelle might have made a stupid deal, but she wasn't some black-hatted idiot. She wasn't about to come murder someone from behind.

  Now, if you pissed her off enough, she might torch you from the front. But that was better off unsaid. Besides, there wasn't a single person at that table who could claim otherwise. We'd all made mistakes, all done terrible things in the past that we weren't exactly proud of. It just went along with the territory and there was nothing that you could really do about that, unless you didn't intend to take measures to save people every now and then.

  "Personally," Lexi began. "I don't think she fits with the general aesthetic of the group. We're more balanced without some baby-frying Pyro bouncing around with us. You saw what she did to that kid on the news."

  Nishelle folded her hands in front of herself. "That was an accident. I was under Allison's control and unstable. I assure you that the Clarks did their best to correct my problems and that I am fully without her issues as of the moment. Though, it is entirely reasonable, again, for you to suspect me."

  "Listen to this shit. Entirely reasonable, because I was a dumbass who pretended to be dead for how many years? Because I let someone else get into my head and make me do terrible stuff? That kid fucking died, Nishelle, and guess what? It all got rolled over because you're Cassie's pet."

  My girlfriend's brows raised. "I didn't know he passed away."

  "He didn't," Nate interrupted. "Not that I know of. The news reported he did to more easily transition him to the training facilities. Which, unfortunately, -are- under Scribe's care at the moment. This means that the longer we dither about this, the longer those young people are under his influence."

  Lexi shot him a glare that could peel paint. I remained silent, trying to down as much breakfast as I could. Sometimes superhero types got a little aggressive about things and if the damn table was going to end up tipped over, I wanted that food in me, not on me.

  "Whatever. The point still remains. She goes and fries another Pyro. What's to stop her from nailing any of us? We've all been in the Dream. But it doesn't mean that we did horrible things. Most of us managed to hold back, even if we did do some damage," Lexi said. "Maybe she's actually wanted it all
along."

  Izzy rolled her eyes. "And maybe I've always been a little Napoleon just waiting for my chance. God, you really don't know when to shut up."

  The heat was building to a boiling point around the table. I finished my plate quickly and grabbed one last pancake, smashing butter into it and rolling it up like a street taco. I swallowed it down like a snake, unashamed. Nishelle grinned at me and shook her head, but that was her undoing.

  "See? She thinks it's a fucking joke," Lexi snapped. "She's laughing at us."

  And Lexi came across the table, sending food everywhere, intent on gouging my girlfriend with a butter knife. Nothing could ever be easy; I'd learned that when we were kids. I kicked the table over and sent Lexi sprawling into Edwin, who grumbled about it and ripped the knife out of her hand.

 

‹ Prev