Freaks Under Fire (31 page)

***

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Freaks Under Fire
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Turn the page for a peek at the first book in the
Liminals
series!

A groan. Mine. I peeled open my eyelids and hauled myself upright. Uhhh. Bad idea. The room spun and the soggy washcloth someone had thoughtfully folded and draped over my forehead plopped into my lap, soaking through my jeans. I flopped back against the pillows, and replaced the washcloth over my face, letting the coolness of it seep into my heated skin while I waited for the room to slow down… and hopefully get around to remaining in one place real soon.

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

I lifted up the corner of the cloth and cut my fuzzy gaze to the right.

The blur resolved into LPD. He was sprawled in a recliner with one leather-clad thigh draped over the arm, nursing a beer. “Gawd. Feel like I’ve been run over by a bloody truck.”

Ditto.

He noticed me eyeing the bottle in his hand. “Want one?”

Mmmm. Although I’d only tasted beer once, and hated it, my mouth watered. I could almost taste the malty bitter-sweetness on my tongue, feel the cool liquid slipping down my throat. I stared at the bottle, watching the beads of condensation dripping down the sides, watching him lift it to his mouth to take another swallow….

A slow blink. And another. And one more before I realized I’d been mesmerized.

I sucked in a sharp breath that sandpapered the lining of my über-dry throat and made my head spin. Calm down, Wren. Focus. He was only offering you a beer. “Don’t ever do
what
again?” I asked, proud that my voice didn’t shake.

“Toss me out of a
sync
. Not only is it rude as hell when I’m trying to help you, the kickback is a bitch. Peeling you off the path and lugging you inside just about killed me. Not to mention the big-arse bruise I can feel forming thanks to your sharp little elbow.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Kind of. Maybe more so if I had a clue what he was going on about.

“You copped some bumps and scrapes,” he said, “but nothing too major. Could have a concussion, though. Should probably have a doctor check you out.”

Hmmm. He didn’t sound particularly thrilled by the prospect of dragging me off to the nearest ER. In fact, going by the tight line of his lips and the way he dropped his gaze to his suddenly fascinating beer bottle, I’d say he was freaked by the thought of it. Interesting.

“I don’t need a doctor,” I said. Truth. Because what I
needed
was information.

“How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

“Liar.”

I gave up hiding behind the washcloth and folded it into a rectangle again. With careful fingers I probed the egg-shaped lump on my temple. It was wince-worthy, sure, but lately I’d developed a high tolerance for pain. I slapped the washcloth over the lump and ignored it. “I’m not lying. This bump on the head is nothing compared to the killer migraines I get.”

His lazy gaze sharpened. “How often do you get them?”

I ignored the question. If anyone was going to be asking the questions it’d be me. “Where are we?”

A pause for another swallow of beer. “My place.”

“I mean what suburb?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “That really what you want to ask me after everything that’s gone down?”

Good point. “Fine. How did you get me off the school grounds without being caught? Or did you give some BS excuse that’ll come back to bite me come Monday?”

He swigged his beer again and I tried my darnedest to ignore the fact that he was heart-thumpingly rock star hot. And I was in his bedroom, lying on his bed. And we were alone. And did I mention he was a hottie?

“You didn’t make it easy,” he said. “First I had to use a handy dandy electronic device that emits a nasty subliminal whine.”

“Like a dog whistle?”

“More or less.” He gestured expansively with his beer bottle before setting it on the floor beside the chair. “It’s a nifty little thing. Designed it myself.”

If he was waiting for me to be impressed and ask for more details he’d be doomed to disappointment.

There was a glint in his eyes that hinted he might be clued into my attempts to play it cool despite all the questions bubbling in my brain. I hoped not. Sure didn’t want him thinking he held all the cards.

“It encouraged everyone to avoid the locker area for a few minutes,” he said. “The plan being I rocked on up and convinced you to go somewhere for a private talk. But you screwed up aforementioned brilliant plan by phasing out when you did the dying swan act. I could hardly toss you over my manly shoulder and stroll off after you pulled that one on me.”

Manly shoulder. Oh please. He was laying it on real thick. “How come?”

“When you phase you’re pure energy. You haven’t got a physical body, per se. I might as well have tried to wrestle with air. Make sense?”

I nodded. It did make sense. Kind of.

“I had to do the old lock, link and sync.” At my blank look he elaborated. “
Lock
on to your energy signature, establish a
link
, and
sync
with you, so I could pig-a-back you along with me when I phased, and get you off the school grounds ASAP. Pity I couldn’t have phased us both all the way out and zipped straight back home, but I couldn’t risk it.”

Oookay then. I figured I’d gloss over all the bizarre stuff I didn’t have the faintest clue about and settle for asking the obvious. “Why not?”

“Didn’t want to lose you. Once we were in the clear, I went liminal and pulled you back into phase with me. Again, you didn’t make it easy. Even out for the count you put up quite a fight for such an itty bitty little thing.” His tone was admiring enough that I had to clamp down on a bizarre desire to preen. And then he ruined the moment by waggling his eyebrows and saying, “But I had my wicked way with you in the end.”

I refused to respond to his baiting tone. Dad says the best way to learn stuff is to shut up and let the other guy fill in the silences. So I put on my best neutral face, figuring Dad was right: while LPD was trying to impress me with his cleverness he was more likely to slip up and reveal more important stuff to do with my “problem”.

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

Ah crap. He knew exactly what game I was playing. But he obliged me anyway. “Once you stabilized, I scooped you up and hauled arse to the nearest cab rack. Would have preferred my motorbike, but hey, beggars toting unconscious girlies can’t be choosers. None of your teachers spotted us. Your reputation is safe. For now, anyway.” This time he grinned openly at me, leaving no doubt he expected me to be impressed.

And I
was
impressed. He’d hauled me half a block to the taxi rack. Those muscles I’d noticed definitely weren’t just for show. But no way was I going to inflate his already high opinion of himself by acknowledging that—or anything else, for that matter. No way. Not even if the memory of being in his arms and held so tightly against his chest did make my breath catch in my throat.

“A-and if you hadn’t been able to, uh, do whatever it was you said to, uh,
phase
me back in?”

“
Sync
with you?”

“Yeah. That.” Whatever
that
was.

He shrugged. “I’d have thought of something. I always do.”

I got the distinct feeling that wasn’t an idle boast. I inched back up the mattress until I could prop my back against the padded headrest. It wasn’t exactly comfortable so I shoved a pillow beneath the small of my back. Ah. Bliss. And right now, it would be even more blissful to close my eyes and shut out the world for a few hours. I couldn’t get my head around what had happened, let alone process his explanations. I couldn’t even imagine the extent of the fuss if someone from school reported me missing to my parents. Provided anyone remembered I was supposed to be at school without me to remind them. Hah. Fat chance of—

Hey. That taxi driver had been able to see me. So, what if LPD doing that… that…
sync
thingie to… to…
phase
me back in, had fixed me—even temporarily? How long would it last?

Maybe I should play nice and try to convince this guy to stick around so I could have a chance at a normal life. Or at the very least, graduating high school. I had some savings—Christmas and birthday money I’d added to my allowance. How much would it cost me to convince him to, say, pretend to be my boyfriend and become my shadow?

I eyed him from beneath my lashes as he snatched up his beer again and took a long swig. If I had a preference for any kind of guy at all, he’d be right up there. And the accent was a definite plus. Majorly yum. Sure wouldn’t be a hardship having him dogging my footsteps. Or, it wouldn’t be if he didn’t have a knack for saying things that embarrassed the heck out of me.

As if sensing my thoughts his gaze licked me from head to toe. He took his time about it, too. I fought not to squirm. And when he finally spoke I could hear the amusement infecting his tone. “So, if you’re not concussed, are you planning on getting your cute little behind off my bed? Or is this your way of hinting I should join you? I gotta say, most girls wouldn’t be so coy. They’d just come right out and say it.”

Huh? Way to confuse me with a complete change of subject. “Say what, exactly?”

“That you think I’m hot.”

Oh. Oh, crap. I opened my mouth, swallowed, shut it again with a snap. No way could I let him know what I’d been thinking about him. No freaking way. So I snorted, and hoped it was convincing enough to put him off. “You’re hardly my type.”

“Reckon I’m exactly your type, luv. Lucky me.”

I hit him with my best you-are-so-far-off-base-I’m-embarrassed-for-you glare. “In. Your. Dreams.” There. That had sounded pretty darned convincing.

“Uh uh,” he said, his lips curving into that infuriating smug grin again. “In yours. You talk in your sleep, Wren. Did you know that?”

My cheeks scorched with damning heat. Oh no. Not good. Sooo not good. And about the only thing that could salvage this disaster was a bluff. I blotted my face with the washcloth, desperately trying for nonchalance. “Really. What did I say about you?”

“Oh, a bunch of stuff about how my sexy-as English accent makes your heart flutter, and how you’d
lurve
to jump my bones and do wicked things to my body. It was all very flattering.”

“You’re making that up.”

“Where’d be the fun in that?”

I hoped the pause while I struggled for something cutting to say didn’t lance the sting from whatever retort finally popped into my head. Okay. Here goes. “Wow.” I batted my eyelashes at him. “You’re so full of yourself. There’re
so many
hot boys at my school I could have been talking about anyone. My boyfriend, for instance.” Ex-boyfriend, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Pathetic. You’ll have to try harder than that, luv.” He laughed at me—made no effort to hide it, either.

I lobbed the washcloth at him but he batted it away.

Jerk. A really hot jerk, but a jerk just the same. I clambered off the bed and headed for the nearest door.

“Ensuite bathroom,” he said.

I pivoted to change direction and stalked past him into the next room, which turned out to be a living room dominated by a big-screen TV, a surround-sound system, and a couple of gaming consoles. Dan would be drooling with envy right about now.

LPD followed me. Of course. No surprises there.

“You can’t leave, luv,” he said.

Hah. We’d see about that. “Sure I can. Watch me walk out the door.”

“Have it your way. Been nice knowing you, Wren. I’ll be sure and come to your funeral.”

***

Get your copy of
Liminal
:
www.mareeanderson.com/books/
www.liminalbook.com

The
Freaks
series:
Freaks of Greenfield High
Freaks in the City
Freaks Under Fire

The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle
(Books 1, 2 and 3)
Book 1:
The Crystal Warrior
(Chalcedony & Wulf’s story)
Book 2:
Ruby’s Dream
(Ruby & Kyan’s story)
Book 3:
Jade’s Choice
(Jade & Malach’s story)
Book 4:
Opal’s Wish
(Opal & Danbur’s story)

Lightning Rider

The Seer Trilogy Bundle
(Books 1, 2 and 3)
Book 1:
Seer’s Hope
(Hope’s story)
Book 2:
Seer’s Promise
(Romana’s story)
Book 3:
Seer’s Choice
(Ryley’s story)

Book 1:
Freaks of Greenfield High
Book 2:
Freaks in the City
Book 3:
Freaks Under Fire

Book 1:
Liminal

Maree Anderson writes paranormal romance, fantasy, and young adult books. She lives in beautiful New Zealand, home of hobbits, elves, and kiwis—both the fruit and the two-legged flightless variety. Her first novel for young adults, the multi-award-winning
Freaks of Greenfield High
, was optioned for TV by Cream Drama, Inc., Canada, and currently has over 2 million reads on Wattpad. She recently released the third book in her
Freaks
series, and is currently working on a second book in the
Liminals
series.