Touched by Lightning (11 page)

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. Brit’s heart stopped because she was about to say something.

“Well? Is she comin’ out or what? I’m making French toast and you can’t eat that shit cold,” Murphy called out from the kitchen.

Gyda’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click and her rosy cheeks grew pale before the color rushed back times a hundred. The eyes that had been soft and hungry narrowed to slits as her fury roared back to life. Brit cursed Murphy for his bad timing. It was why he was called Murphy’s Law behind his back, because the big man was usually the cause of shit going downhill without even realizing it.

Instead of letting Gyda see his frustration, Brit slanted another falsely arrogant smile at her, just to get a rise out of her. What could he say? He liked to live dangerously. He wouldn’t have joined the O.T. if he wanted to live forever.

“Hope you can handle your business in the bathroom before the French toast gets cold, ’cause Murphy’s right. It tastes like shit if it isn’t eaten hot.”

* * * * *

These people were certifiable. Gyda had been on the streets ever since she left Leo and Estelle’s house all those years ago. She’d seen shit that would make people fear for the future of the human species and yet everything she’d seen was blown out of the water by the T.U. Babies, as they called themselves. They may as well have been children with the excitement they showed for Gyda’s appearance in the kitchen.

After easing her bladder and washing her hands, all while checking out the bathroom for possible weapons and pointy objects she could use in case the pressure became too much, Gyda allowed Brit to escort her down a short hallway that opened directly into the kitchen. Well, it was a kitchen slash dining room slash living room. From what she’d been able to see, the cabin wasn’t very big. The room she was being kept in was on the cute side, the bathroom adequate but not spacious. This area, though, was obviously meant to be enjoyed by many.

The huge table in the center of the room barely looked able to hold the mounds of food piled high in the center, much less the number of people crowded around it. Faces, most of them impossibly young, turned to look at her as she entered the room with Brit on her heels. She froze, balking at getting any closer. She recognized Steve, Paul and Gomer, all three of them looking a little bruised. Charlene and the other two girls who’d sat in front of her in the van appeared wary but unhurt. Murphy, the talking mountain, moved back and forth between the table and a stove.

She counted the bodies in the room, coming to fifteen not counting her and Brit. That meant there were others outside the cabin, probably standing guard. Twenty-one people against her. And they all seemed prepared to watch her every move, especially since she’d tipped her hand by causing the wreck the day before. She’d acted impulsively, let Tora lead and this was what she’d be left to deal with.

It’s not that bad
, she thought halfheartedly.
I just have to take them by surprise. That’s if I can tear myself away from Brit.

The snarky comment made Gyda’s cheeks burn and her anger return because that thought wasn’t from Tora or Sixteen, but from herself. If Murphy hadn’t called out when he did, she might have responded to Brit’s seductive tease. Even now, recalling how his voice had deepened and his cock strained against his jeans, her body went soft and wet, her heart kicking up a few beats. He’d almost had her talking. She hadn’t deliberately attempted to hold a conversation with anyone since before her captivity, but she was ready to try. For him. For some man who probably only wanted her to find her voice so he could interrogate her.

She shot a dark glare his way as he came to stand next to her, but he wasn’t even paying attention to her. Instead he did a slow sweep of the table. Then he grabbed her hand and dragged her forward to take two chairs wedged together at one end. She tried to dig in her feet because yeah, she didn’t want to sit next to the gorgeous blonde on one side or Gomer on the other side.

But once again, Brit didn’t give her much choice. He pulled out the chair next to the woman. “Have a seat, hon,” he drawled with a tight smile.

Gyda glanced at the blonde to her right as she sat and wanted to crawl under the table. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than nineteen at the most, looked as fresh-faced as the other members of the T.U., but she was a knockout. Golden skin, big brown eyes, button nose and rosebud lips, she was the epitome of every popular girl Gyda had seen through her life. The cheerleader type who talked about her behind her back as a teenager, very much like Patti Singleton, the girl who’d helped Gyda end up where she was now. And instant hate swelled inside her. It was a gut reaction to a girl who probably still played with her Barbies, but it was one Gyda couldn’t help.

Then the girl opened her mouth. “Your trials aren’t over yet,” she said in a strangely deep voice, her eyes slightly glazed. She rocked in her chair, staring blankly at Gyda. “I see blood on your hands. Blood and death as your past catches up with you and you’ll have the chance to triumph over it, or forge a new path.” Her face paled and her pupils narrowed to pinpricks as though she saw something horrible. “So much blood…”

The room was silent. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the blonde’s voice trailed off. Gyda stared at the girl, not sure what to think. She’d heard of precognitive abilities, knew it was one of the rarest abilities in the realm of skills the Order of Themis had labeled, but she’d never met one before. It freaked her the fuck out and Sixteen didn’t like it either. She watched through Gyda’s eyes, nervousness making her a little twitchy.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins as the fight or flight instinct reared its head. But there was nothing to fight. Just this girl who shook her body like a dog getting out of the bath and looked around the room with clear eyes before her gaze landed on Gyda again.

She smiled. “Cool, I knew if I sat next to Paul, I’d get to meet you.” Her voice was normal, sort of. It was still raspy, but less trancelike. “I’m Desta Montgomery. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for weeks!”

Gyda looked at the hand extended toward her and glanced at Brit, who’d slid into the seat next to her. He shrugged. “She’s a precog. They have their own rules.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t pry too much,” Desta said with a sniff. “There are some things even
I
can’t see, you know.” She shrugged. “At least not until you’ve decided what you’re going to do. Then there are things I don’t want to see because can we say ew?”

“Or she can’t tell you if your football team is going to win this weekend, because she considers you ‘a friend’ and her powers no longer work on you,” one of the boys down the table griped under his breath, breaking the spell Gyda was under.

Tora remained watchful as she shook Desta’s hand, just in case the precog pulled some more of that weird shit on her. The younger girl’s face lit up like a spotlight, apparently taking Gyda’s grudging handshake as a gesture of friendship.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Desta chirped. “I started seeing you about six weeks ago and…” Her voice trailed off as Gyda lost interest in the conversation.

Whatever
, Sixteen snorted in the back of her mind.
Soon as she starts poking around in our past, she’s going down.

“And you can let your friends know I’m not a retrocognitive,” Desta finished, snapping Gyda back to the here and now and out of her head where Tora gave her glorious, full-colored detailed on what she’d do to the girl.

Gyda startled at Desta’s words, glancing around at the others to see if they’d caught the precog’s reference, but no one looked interested. Much. Brit was listening, a small frown forming on his face. Her heart slammed uncontrollably. She didn’t want anyone to know about Tora and Sixteen. Didn’t want anyone to realize just how fucking gone she was.

But Desta continued speaking as though she hadn’t just rocked Gyda’s world. “I can’t read past events, only the future. Which kind of sucks because I probably would’ve done better in History if I had retrocognition, you know? God, I hated that class, so boring.”

The precog turned away in time to move a big plate of French toast off the table before Murphy had to ask anyone, giving him room to put a heaping pile of sausage in its place. He paused next to her, eyes narrowing on her golden head.

Desta held up her hand. “Hold that thought. I know you don’t like all my ‘woo-woo’ shit, but it’s second nature now, okay? And you really need to get over it, okay? ’Cause like, if you’re gonna get in good with my sister, you have to accept me, you know? And if Carter thinks you’re a hard-ass, you can kiss any chance you have with Indah goodbye.”

Gyda watched in silent fascination as Murphy gaped at the teen, his mouth opening and closing as a tide of red washed up his cheeks. Desta didn’t seem bothered at all, handing the plate of sweet bread to Gyda, asking, “Can you recommend a tattoo artist in Chicago? I think that might be where I’m assigned after I finish training.” She kept chattering away, not in the least bit put off by Gyda’s silence.

Murphy glared at the girl a long time before sliding his glare to Brit. He muttered something about “woo-woo shit” and stormed back to the stove. Conversation picked up around them as everyone started to pass around plates of food. Gyda took what was given to her without thinking, her mind split between a morbid fascination with Desta’s nerve and the precog’s words.

If she passed a serving platter without taking anything from it, Brit made sure to add whatever it was to her plate. Her stomach howled for food but she knew if she touched anything, she’d start shoveling handfuls of toast and sausage and bacon into her mouth like a beast. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had hot food, especially not when it smelled as good as what was passing beneath her nose.

No one seemed to share her reluctance as they all dug into their plates with gusto, some of the conversation dying down as mouths were filled. Brit placed a thick slab of cream-cheese-stuffed French toast on her plate, syrup dripping off it in a slow, sensuous river that made her mouth water.

When she did no more than stare at it, Brit leaned over until his warmth invaded the left side of her body. With deft care, he cut a large wedge out of the toast and speared it with the fork. He brought it up to her mouth. She meant to turn away. She wasn’t a child. If she wanted to eat, she would. She just didn’t want to because she was afraid—

His breath stirred the little tendrils of hair behind her ear as he leaned even closer. “I’ve always wanted to feed a woman,” he rasped in that same husky drawl he’d used on her earlier. “But I always pictured her naked in my lap so that if I dropped any syrup on her chest, I could just lean over and lick—”

Her mouth fell open in shock and he slid the fork inside, a soft groan escaping him, but she barely heard it because flavor exploded on her tongue. She tore the fork out of his hand and shoveled another piece and another into her mouth, the combination of cinnamon and nutmeg and maple syrup and cream cheese a decadent feast.

French toast really is better than sex
, Sixteen said in wonderment.

Gyda agreed wholeheartedly and set about cleaning her plate without an ounce of embarrassment or shame.

“She’s watching again,” Ted observed as he came to stand next to Brit who was rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

He had to fight the urge to look over his shoulder at the cabin. His concentration and expertise were needed and he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by the woman who was slowly driving him fucking insane. Paul and Steve were squaring off against each other and it was nothing more than a hot mess. Literally, since Paul could manipulate fire and Steve was able to secrete oil as well as wallcrawl and a few other nifty little abilities that added up to trouble.

The clearing in front of the cabin was an oily, burning mess as Paul lit up everything Steve shot at him. It was all well and good, but they weren’t making any progress, relying too much on their powers to get them out of their stalemate. The recruits surrounding Paul and Steve—from a very safe oil- and fire-free distance—shouted their encouragement, their excitement inciting the boys to perform idiotic feats.

“What in the hell are they doing?” Murphy rumbled as he came to stand on the other side of Brit. “I thought they were sparring, not reverting to infancy.”

Brit shook his head, reaching up to rub his nape as the hair there stood straight on end. He could almost
feel
her watching him and it didn’t help his concentration. Four days of torture had passed since that first breakfast they had together. Gyda had managed to avoid him while silently endearing herself to the recruits and, surprisingly, Murphy, who seemed to take it as a personal challenge to feed her until she could barely move. Barely because she still managed to infiltrate groups of people who gave her some protection away from him.

He’d promised her he wouldn’t touch her again until she asked for it. And she was holding him to that, keeping her lips sealed and moving away whenever he got close. Except when he was outside working with the recruits, she watched him without looking away. He knew this because Murphy and Ted would always comment on it. And if that wasn’t enough, when he reviewed the security footage, he could see her from several camera angles set up in his living area. Able to watch her smiling when she thought no one was looking or see the darkness bleed into her face when she realized she was enjoying herself.

“Yeah, she’s there. When are you going to talk to her?” Ted asked as he folded his arms over his chest. He flinched when Steve barely missed having his balls set on fire. “Jesus Christ, are they tryin’ to emasculate each other?”

“I’ll talk to her when I’m ready,” Brit muttered. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Stop fucking around and spar or I’ll set Desta on you.”

Both boys glanced over at the perky blonde who was humming to herself, her eyes glazed with another vision, and began to slug it out. All three trainers grunted in satisfaction. They weren’t trying to teach their recruits to only use their powers. The O.T. required physical, mental and emotional strength. There were times when your life depended on you being able to take care of yourself using your fists or weapons because just like with any other walk of life, not all supes were good. There were Voids out there that worked for the bad guys and could render any member of the O.T. powerless.

That was when being able to fight your way out with your fists came in handy. It was something their younger recruits still had to learn. Brit saw a lot of promise in kids like Paul and Steve, if they ever got over their excitement about joining the O.T.. They saw themselves as modern-day superheroes, when most members of the O.T. were more like Special Forces units doing a thankless job for the good of society. Once they had a few call-outs under their belts, they’d be singing a completely different tune.

For now though, it reminded him a little of what it was like to be young and trying to impress girls. Which he supposed he was still trying to do, except he was too old for that shit. Or thought he was until Gyda showed up in his life.

“You know Joe’s gonna come down if she thinks you’re being too easy on her,” Murphy muttered.

Ted winced, and not because Steve managed to plant Paul a solid facer. No, it was the thought of Joe joining them that did it. While the cabin was tight during meals, the hot water tank ran out way too fast and Brit had to set up an electric bug zapper in the middle of all the tents, everyone was enjoying the camping trip. Well, everyone except for Gyda.

“Has she been outside at all since we got here?” Brit asked even though he knew the answer was no.

“Nah,” Ted drawled with another wince as Paul aimed for Steve’s junk. “Fuck, are either of them wearing a cup?”

“Is that something we really need to keep track of?” Murphy shot back. “If they get their jewels stomped on once, they’ll know better next time.” The big man shifted on his tree, using the trunk to scratch his back. “And Jill the Ripper doesn’t do much but watch us, which means she’s planning an escape.”

“I know.”

They were all silent as they absorbed the thought of Gyda making another run for it even as they watched Steve put Paul on his ass. Clearly the winner, the skinny teen reached down to help his friend up, the two of them slapping each other’s backs as the other recruits moved in to congratulate them both. So much innocence waiting to be tarnished. When he looked at these kids, especially the girls who flirted with the guys so openly, Brit couldn’t help but think about the woman inside his cabin who’d never had that.

Even if he hadn’t read the lean file the O.T. had on her, Brit would’ve known Gyda had led a hard life. It was in the careful way she scanned every room she entered. In the way she always sat with her back to the wall, keeping anyone from creeping up on her. He saw the longing in her eyes when she looked at the easy camaraderie of the recruits. When they included her in their discussions, even though she didn’t speak a word, the wary wonder on her face was enough to make him have to clear his throat and look away. Since he’d seen the same expression on Murphy’s and Ted’s faces, he didn’t feel like a complete pussy.

Hell, he’d seen Murphy give the bowl of leftover icing from a cake he baked to Gyda just to see her smile. Everyone was benefiting from Murphy’s skills in the kitchen, the meals he cooked up good and filling, but no one enjoyed them more than Gyda. Brit figured in no time at all, she’d lose some of that gauntness that came from way too many skipped meals and look the way she was supposed to. Images of her breasts growing plumper, a softer curve to her ass, filled his mind.

“Head in the game,” Ted muttered out the corner of his mouth. “Kids with sharp eyes heading this way.”

He snapped out of his daze to see the recruits coming closer, chattering like magpies. Desta drifted behind the crowd, her face pale with knowledge that made a ball of unease twist in Brit’s stomach. He liked the little precog, thought of her as an annoying younger sister, but he didn’t envy her powers. Being able to see the future couldn’t be fun and seeing how her latest vision affected her didn’t change his opinions much.

Murphy waded into the group of kids, barking out orders that had them shuffling into some semblance of order within seconds. The man was sheer magic, or terror, depending on who you asked. But Brit couldn’t tear his gaze away from Desta, who continued forward, not paying heed to Murphy.

His heart did a slow squeeze and dread became a pressure at the base of his neck. She walked right by the big man without sparing him a glance and stopped in front of Brit, tilting her head back to look him in the eye.

“She’s going to hurt herself,” the little precog told him in a barely audible whisper.

He didn’t need to ask who “she” was. He felt it in the clutch of his stomach and the sudden spark of lightning that lit up his entire nervous system like a red alert. Brit spun on his heels and charged in the direction of his cabin. He vaguely heard the recruits murmuring under their breaths, Murphy and Ted sending out questioning grunts, but his entire focus was getting into the cabin with enough time to spare.

The recruits who stayed inside to help watch over Gyda all looked up at him in surprise when he burst through the door. One of them, slightly older than the rest, jumped to his feet, ready to take direction from Brit, but he only barked out, “Where is she?”

The kid lifted a hand and pointed at the hallway. “She went to the bathroom,” he whispered.

Brit hauled ass through the living area, ricocheting into the hall. The doors to his and Gyda’s bedrooms were open, but the bathroom door was closed. Praying he was wrong, that she’d give him an outraged look, he lifted his foot and planted it on the door just beneath the lock. Wood splintered with a groan, the door bouncing open and closed again.

But that brief glimpse into the bathroom told him Desta’s foresight and his suspicions weren’t wrong. The image of her planted in front of the sink, a broken piece of pottery in her hand and blood smeared on the skin of her arms would be forever etched on his brain. Nausea churned in his gut, gore rising in his throat at the sight of so much blood on her pale skin, but now wasn’t the time to lose his shit.

Brit pushed open the door again and charged inside, knocking the shard of broken whatever it was out of her hand. She barely paid attention, her eyes heavy-lidded with something that looked a lot like pleasure, but he had to be wrong because she bled. She was bleeding all over the place. He gave her a gentle push to sit on the toilet and began to check her over. She’d taken her top off to perform her macabre ritual, her bra the only thing saving her modesty.

“Murph,” he barked. “Get me a Medic. I want them here yesterday.”

“Juliette isn’t ready for that kind of healing,” the big man informed him. “She still gets sick at the sight of blood.”

Brit squeezed his eyes closed both in frustration and thanks. Her cuts were many, some of them a little deeper than he’d like to see, but nothing life-threatening. She was like a living doll in his hands, her body slack and pliable, her eyes glazed with the same pleasure he’d seen when he brought her to climax in the woods.

“Brit, you still need a Medic?” Murphy asked when he was silent for so long.

He reached for the first-aid kit he kept under the bathroom sink and muttered, “No, no Medic. I’ll clean her up.” He opened the box and began to unload the things he needed to fix her up. “Take the kids out for a while. Take them to a fucking movie or something.”

There was a heavy silence behind him as though Murphy was weighing his words.

“I won’t hurt her,” he spat as he began to dab at the cuts she’d made on her forearms, his stomach churning. “I won’t strangle her either, as much as I want to.”

He continued gently cleaning Gyda’s wounds and listened as Murphy heaved a heavy sigh and stomped down the hall. The big man’s voice boomed as he gathered the recruits and a questioning Ted. A few minutes later came the sounds of doors closing on the vans, the engines starting and then the eventual fade as they drove back down the path away from the cabin.

Brit sucked in a deep breath and turned her wrists over, not sure what he expected to see, but the unblemished skin was a godsend. He lowered his head even more, his body going slightly limp from relief and rested his forehead on her knees. He needed to finish cleaning her up, patch up her wounds and then raise seven kinds of hell at her for doing this to herself. But instead, he wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her even closer until the top of his head came into contact with her belly, his face planted in her thighs. It wasn’t sexual, it was his way of comforting himself, of keeping his hands from tossing her over his lap to spank her ass.

It was a struggle to just hold her when he really wanted to scream at her for playing with fire. Dwayne’s image, cold and lifeless, the stench of blood and death surrounding him something he couldn’t wipe away. Not even with the fresh, clean scent of Gyda filling his sinuses. His body shuddered and shook from holding that pain and fear inside. Pain at the memory and fear that Gyda walked the same path, one that would take her from him before he could stop her.

Then he recalled the blissful expression on her face, the peace and tranquility she received from hurting herself and felt a sharp pain of betrayal. Brit lifted his head, keeping his arms tight around her hips. She was looking down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with that strange afterglow.

“Why?” he rasped into the silence of the bathroom. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Are you asking for help? What is it?”

His words did little to drag her from the weird lethargy of her post-cutting session. She blinked at him slowly, her pupils wide. But she still didn’t attempt to defend herself, to even cover herself the way she normally would. She was flying high on the pleasure her cutting brought her. A pleasure Brit feared would lead her to becoming increasingly dangerous to herself, causing her to cut deeper, harder and more.

He could see it so easily and even though he understood the cesspool that was her life, that wasn’t who she was. He firmly believed a person made of their life what they wanted to and she was wasting hers by living in the past. Then she gave him a little smile, a little sexy, loopy smile that told him just how much she was enjoying her buzz and he lost his ever-lovin’ mind.

Brit wanted to shake her, to snap her the fuck out of this false pleasure she gave herself, but even in his fury he couldn’t hurt her or do anything that might cause her harm. So he kissed her. He gripped the back of her neck in one hand and pulled her down until their lips smashed together. Keeping his eyes open and on her slack face, he pressed harder, knowing he had to be bruising her but unable to help himself.