Heroine Complex (31 page)

“Okay,” I said, my voice faint. “But I was definitely going to chase you through the—
mrph
.”

His hands tangled in my hair as his mouth claimed mine. It was a continuation of our kiss on the dance floor. All fierce need with no warm-up.

I stretched over the space between our seats, trying to bring us just one iota closer. A craving sparked low in my belly, a craving for his hands all over me, shaping and stroking the spots he'd gotten to know so well.

No matter how much I contorted myself, I was still not
close enough, so I tossed my bowl of cereal into the backseat and clambered over the gap between us, hefting myself into his lap. My foot jutted out, smacking against the parking brake, and the car moved, rolling backward down the steep hill.

Nate's hand snaked around me, closing over the brake and yanking it upward just as we were about to smack into a parked car.

“Always an adventure with you,” he murmured, his lips finding mine again.

I responded by pressing myself more firmly into him, sucking at his lower lip. I slid my hand down the front of his jeans and stroked, my fingers closing around the long, hard length of him. He shuddered against me.

“Evie,” he gasped against my mouth. I felt a thrill at how out-of-control he already sounded. “Glove compartment,” he choked out.

Um, what? “Glove compartment”? As dirty talk went, that wasn't particularly hot.

“Open the glove compartment,” he managed.

I reached over and did as I was told and was rewarded with an avalanche of condoms. They slid onto the floor in one slithery, multicolored mass.

“What?” I squeaked. “Does Lucy just have piles of these things waiting for me everywhere?”

“I put those there.” He was still breathing hard, but managed a smile. “After the day we almost . . . in the car . . .”

I looked at the mass of condoms still spilling onto the floor. “You were certainly ambitious.”

His smile widened. “I was hopeful.”

I couldn't help but smile back. I reached behind me and yanked down the zipper of my dress. It had a built-in bra, so I wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Nate's eyes went wide as the dress fell to my waist. He was giving me that look that made me melt, that look that had my heart rising in my throat and all available oxygen fleeing my lungs.

“Wow,” I said teasingly, trying not to show him how much that look got to me. “We've been apart for all of two days and you're looking at me like you've never seen breasts before.”

His eyes locked with mine. “You take my breath away. Every time.”

He pulled me close and kissed me. Exhilaration sang through me again, but this time there was no fear.

I wasn't afraid of anything anymore.

I'M GOING TO
have nightmares.

The thought swam through my brain before I passed out in bed with Nate wrapped around me.

Because even though I'd managed to incinerate a demon threat and fulfill the dubious bucket list item of having sex in a haphazardly parked car, I had been so overloaded with thoughts and feelings and terrifying images throughout the night, I figured it was inevitable that some of them would re-form in my subconscious as a fucked-up Voltron of a dream tableau.

But I'm ready for it,
I thought as I drifted off.
I've conquered my fears and I can do anything. Bring it on, brain!

I even made a rallying fist-pump in my sleep.

But there were no nightmares. My sleep was dreamless. When I woke up, I felt rested and happy and ready to have regular ol' bed sex with my newly minted boyfriend.

I rolled over to press myself against him in a suggestive manner. And then I noticed he was shaking.

I sat up. He was curled into a fetal position, facing away from me, and every part of him seemed to be thrashing. His limbs jerked and his fists clutched the sheets so hard, his knuckles turned white. He was completely silent, which made the whole thing more disconcerting. He looked like he was caught in a seizure.

I touched his shoulder.

No response. Only shaking.

Panic shot through me. Had Maisy come back? Was she doing this?

Was she going to take him away from me?

No, you idiot
, I thought, forcing myself to think rationally.
He's having a nightmare. He saw a lot of fucked up shit last night, too.

I gripped his shoulder more firmly. “Nate. Wake up.”

More silence. More shaking.

I grasped both of his shoulders and leaned close to his ear. “Wake up
now
. Please.”

Still nothing. My panic threatened to flare. I shoved it back and shook him as hard as I could.

“Wake up, dammit! Or I'll . . . I'll
burn your Nordstrom frequent shopper card
!”

His eyes flew open and his breath whooshed out in one violent gasp. His hands wrapped around my arms and he met my eyes with a stare so blank, I wondered if he recognized me.

I gently disentangled myself from his grasp and brought my hands to his face. His skin felt clammy. But at least he wasn't shaking anymore.

“You were having a nightmare,” I said. I stroked my thumbs over his cheekbones. “At least I think that's what it was.”

He wouldn't stop looking at me with that freaky expressionless gaze. Worry rose like bile in my throat.

“Nate?” I tried to make my voice soft, soothing. I didn't want him to hear any of that worry.

His eyes finally seemed to focus. “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It was a nightmare.” His arms went around me and he pulled me against his chest. His heartbeat thudded in my ear, amplified and way too fast.

“About last night?” I pressed.

“No.” He sounded surprised. “I . . .”

He trailed off and paused for what seemed like an
eternity. Which made my panic rise again. I pulled out of his embrace and faced him.

“Because maybe Maisy did something to you that . . . that . . .” I couldn't bring myself to complete that thought.

“What? Oh, Evie—no. It's nothing like that.” He tried to give me a half-smile, but his eyes looked haunted. “There's a specific kind of nightmare I have sometimes.”

I nodded, but I was still studying him carefully, trying to discern what was wrong. He looked disoriented, like he wasn't fully inhabiting his body.

“The other night, you asked about my scars,” he continued. He met my gaze. “And one of your theories was correct.”

“The superspy thing?” I said, even though I knew that wasn't right.

“Someone hurt me.” His tone was measured and steady. “A long time ago. And once in a while I have a dream where I remember.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't know how.

“I want to tell you . . .” he began, but his voice cracked. His breathing sped up, becoming distorted and uneven. His eyes were full of old pain he didn't want to pass on to me.

I didn't say anything. I slid my arms around his neck and held him. Then I leaned back against the headboard and pulled him with me, positioning us so his head rested on my shoulder. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling his staccato breath against my neck. Eventually, it started to even out and I felt like I could speak.

“You don't have to tell me everything right now,” I said. “But it's like you said last night. About how you're here. I'm here, too. I know it took me a little longer to figure things out, but I'm not going anywhere.”

His arm tightened around my waist and I felt his big body relax against me. And I realized I wasn't the only one scared of this “not just orgasms” thing between us.

“I'm not going anywhere,” I repeated softly.

I kept stroking his hair, willing his breathing to even out further. Within this moment of quiet contemplation, I was surprised to feel a hot surge of anger—a sharp, bitter thing out of place in the current calm of the room.

How could anyone hurt this man, so sweet and gentle beneath his gruff exterior? If I ever found the person responsible for his pain, they'd better be prepared to either run really fast or suddenly develop magical abilities that rendered them fireproof.

My palm heated at the thought, anger pooling in my chest.

Calm down,
I told the fire.
This isn't the time.

I focused on holding him. Our breathing eventually matched up, and we had both started to drift back to sleep when the bedroom door flew open and Lucy barged in.

“Morning,” she said, breezing over to the bed and plopping herself down next to me. “I was going to ask why the backseat of my car is covered in Lucky Charms and panties, but . . .” She gave us a pointed look. “I guess I have my answer.”

“We can clean that up later,” Nate muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“This came for you, Evie.” Lucy tossed a padded manila envelope in my lap. “Fan mail, perhaps? From someone who enjoyed your ragey pictures on Maisy's blog?”

I rolled my eyes at her and glanced at the postmark. Peru.

“Now, about my backseat,” Lucy said.

I tuned out while she and Nate discussed the most effective car upholstery cleaning methods and slit the envelope open. It contained two plane tickets and a folded letter. And as I read the letter, the anger I'd banished moments earlier rose up again.

Evelyn and Beatrice
:
I received Beatrice's email regarding her birthday celebration and must send my regrets as
I am about to embark on Chakra Balance Step #5 in my training at Yogini Lara's Mind-Body-Spirit Wellness Retreat. I do, however, wish to reconnect with both of you on a higher plane of spiritual awareness. Yogini Lara says this is crucial to my inner foundation becoming whole again. Enclosed, please find two plane tickets to Peru (the current locale of our retreat space) as well as a birthday present for Beatrice. Downward Dog be with you,

Dad

I stared at the plane tickets, then back at the letter. It was the most words we'd gotten from him since he left.

“Birthday present?” I muttered. I tipped the envelope upside down and a flimsy bracelet made of pink plastic hearts tumbled out. The rage that had been percolating in my chest blossomed. “Christ, Dad,” I murmured. “Bea's not a little kid. And she hates pink.”

I clenched my hands, soothing the fire, telling it to stay put. It was just so
him
. Thinking he could fix something with a plane ticket and a shitty birthday present. And thinking about it in terms of how it helped his “spiritual awareness” rather than how it might heal us.

What would happen if we actually went to him? Bea would love the fact that he'd sent her a birthday present at all, that he'd remembered the tiniest detail about her life. But I could see, all too clearly, what would happen next. Once we joined him, Dad would proceed to get wrapped up in the Yogini Lara-ness of it all and Bea would be neglected, ignored. And eventually, crushed.

I couldn't let that happen. She had come so far, she was doing so well . . .

And honestly, so was I.

I swept the envelope and its contents into the wastebasket next to my bed.

“Nothing important?” Nate asked. His hand slid under the covers to take mine.

“No,” I said, managing a quick smile. “Why don't we get dressed and clean up Lucy's car?”

“Evie!” Now Aveda was barging in with Scott trailing behind her. “I have something very important to show you!” she crowed.

Really, I was going to have to think about installing some kind of industrial-strength lock on my bedroom door. At least Nate and I were both sort of clothed—him in boxers, me in his shirt again.

Aveda's hair was frizzy and tangled, her eyes bright with glee. And she was standing upright with no assistance.

“Where are your crutches?” I asked. “And your cast?”

“Never mind that. I want you to watch the hell out of this.”

She raised her hand and aimed it at the empty water glass on my nightstand. I instinctively reached over to get it for her. But there was no need.

The glass flew across the room and smashed into the wall.

“What . . .” I sat up straight, my eyes blinking rapidly. “Have you been practicing or something?” I exchanged a bewildered look with Nate and Lucy.

“No.” She beamed, flexing her fingers. “It just kind of happened. Reached for my toothbrush this morning and it sailed across the sink and snapped into my hand. And I can do multiple objects, too!” She lifted her hand again and the mess of glass came to life, rising from the ground in a sparkling field of jagged edges and light.

“Wow.” I flinched. “Can you put that down, please?”

“Spoilsport.” She dropped her hand, allowing the glass to cascade back to the floor.

“Did Scott figure out some kind of power-enhancing spell?” I said, grasping for an explanation.

“No.” Aveda stamped her foot. “Come on, people. Use your borderline-competent powers of deduction.”

“We just woke up,” Nate said. “Please enlighten us.”

“Last night's earthquake,” Aveda said. “Remember how Evie was suddenly able to throw her fireballs? How
she'd been trying for days and they'd stayed all stuck to her hand and then right in time for the big karaoke finale, right when the earthquake happened . . .
bam
.” Aveda mimed throwing a fireball at the ceiling. “She did it. That's a whole new dimension of control for her. And my telekinesis is way stronger. We've both leveled up.”

I opened my mouth to protest then realized that wasn't a bad explanation.

“Your powers aren't connected to natural phenomena,” Nate said.

“But they are connected to unnatural phenomena,” I said, working it out. “That first demon portal opening up all those years ago caused an earthquake. Maybe something like that happened again. Maybe defeating Maisy triggered it.”

“Another portal?” Lucy said. “Does that mean we have more humanoid demon corpses to contend with? Or worse, humanoid demons?”

“I checked in with Bea. She said Rose's team is scoping out the area where the earthquake was centered,” Aveda said. “They haven't found anything. No corpses, no portals. No reports of demon activity since Evie busted Maisy's ass. But they're keeping an eye on things and will be in touch with us.”

“Rose is up and about after staying out so late with us at The Gutter last night?” Lucy mused. “Impressive.”

“I wouldn't have pegged her for it, but that girl has quite the arsenal of dirty jokes,” Aveda said. “Especially after you get some bourbon in her.”

“Okay,” I said. “So this level up business may be due to another portal, but we're not sure why. And there's no physical evidence of said portal. Sounds like this requires . . .”

“Further scientific research?” Nate asked.

“Yes.” I smiled at him.

“Gross.” Aveda made an exaggerated retching sound.
“You two need to cut it out with that cutesy stuff before you thoroughly ensicken the entire team.”

I rolled my eyes. “You're the one who barged into my bedroom. Plus, ‘ensicken'? That's not even a word.”

“Look it up.” She stuck her tongue out at me. “Your picture is next to the Wikipedia entry.”

I grinned at her. It was nice having some of our junior high-era banter back. With the added twist that I was now unwilling to let her walk all over me.

“What about Scott?” Lucy piped up. “Did he get a level up too?”

“Yup.” Scott leaned against the doorframe. “As soon as Annie discovered this new wrinkle in her power, I decided to test mine. Notice anything different about her ankle?” Aveda twisted her foot around to demonstrate.

“You're healed,” I realized. “That's why you don't have your crutches.”

“It seems I can now do higher-level spells,” Scott said. “I'm still working out what all I can do, but the first thing I tried was a healing spell. All I had to do was touch her ankle and—”

“And it's fixed!” Aveda exclaimed, rocking back on her heels. “So obviously I can return now. No more hobbling around on the sidelines.”

She looked at me hopefully, as if seeking permission. Or at the very least, advice. It threw me, because it was so unlike something the uninjured version of Aveda Jupiter would do. Maybe the past weeks had changed her as much as they'd changed me.

“I mean, your ass looks good in leather pants, Evie. But not as good as mine.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn't changed
too
much. But she gave me a small, teasing smile to soften her words.