No Love for the Wicked (23 page)

“I’m not mad at you,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Don’t get in my head.” Especially since I couldn’t get in his.

His eyebrows scrunched together. “I didn’t realize I was. I thought you’d spoken out loud.” He sighed heavily. “Look, Thirteen would love to get his hands on your father. He would like to hold him in one of the Network cells, get confessions out of him for every horrific thing he and your uncles have ever done. Most of all Thirteen would like to strip the man of as much power as possible—make him pay restitution for his crimes, bankrupt his empire, turn state’s evidence against every illegal act his senator
brother ever had a hand in. But personally, I think that outcome is nothing but a pipe dream. The only way to stop your father and uncles is to kill them.” He turned to face me, his eyes glowing in the dashboard lights. “And I think that you, Mag, are the only one capable of doing it.”

He brushed a piece of hair away from my face. “That’s why I was so pissed when you didn’t end the man tonight when you had the chance. You were face-to-face with him, alone in a camera-free hallway. You were invisible, and you were stronger than him on a level that terrified him. You could have killed him. But you didn’t. Instead you stuck to the plan and walked away. It was the right thing to do—I know that. I also know that if I were the one with your powers and your past, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to walk away.” He looked me hard in the eye. “But no matter how I feel about Thirteen’s priorities on this, I shouldn’t have made you feel bad for doing exactly what needed to be done. I’m sorry.”

I pulled into the farmhouse and parked. He caressed a strand of my hair, but I just stared out the windshield. He was right, of course, about Thirteen’s ultimate plans. The Network goal had always been to gain legal evidence against my family, proof so strong that Father’s or Uncle Max’s powers couldn’t dispel the ramification.

It would never happen.

But me killing my father? The idea churned uneasily inside me. No matter how strong I became, no matter how controlled, he was still my father.

Theo slipped a finger under my chin and turned my head to face him. Looking me in the eye, he said, “You are so much stronger than they are. It will take time to get where you need to be in your head, but I know that you can destroy them. You may be the only one capable of doing it.”

I closed my eyes and let his hand cup the side of my face. The warmth of his touch spread quickly, speeding my pulse and tightening things low inside me. I didn’t want to think about my father anymore. I wanted to go inside and shut out the rest of the world so that nothing existed except me and Theo. “Come on,” I said—and didn’t have to ask twice.

My wrap had been long forgotten back at the gala, and the night was absolutely freezing. We hurried around to the porch steps and didn’t even bother with the keys. I unlocked the doors with my mind, rushed inside to the smell of burned furnace air, and instantly locked the door behind us. I was in Theo’s arms before I could think.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears. He nuzzled the side of my face. “You are what I am supposed to have,” he said. “When we’re together, I am what I was meant to be.”

As he spoke, he ran his fingers along a length of my hair that had fallen loose. The glow poured out of us, and I could feel it alive, growing inside us and through us. He lifted me at my waist, and my legs wrapped around him automatically. He pushed against me, and I gasped.

He captured my lips with his, and the next moment we were in the bedroom. Gently, he laid me on the bed. He held back my hands. Positioning me against the pillows, he tugged free the long folds of my silk gown. I wore only my strapless bra and panties now.

Holding my face between his hands, he kissed me. His tongue snuck past my lips, and suddenly I was dizzy. He tasted so good. So right. I felt his hands on my back, and my bra was gone. I shivered but only for a moment. His touch was so gentle. And I knew it now, knew what to expect here. There was no fear or panic. Not this time. I pushed his open shirt from his shoulders, kissing, licking his throat. His stubble teased my tongue. When his shirt
was gone, I ran my hands over his back. So strong—feeling the dips and curves of his muscles made me squirm beneath him in anticipation. His mouth closed over my breast. I gasped again. Suddenly everything low in my body that had been clenching and aching went loose, ready. As if sensing the shift in my body, he looked up at me with my hard nipple between his teeth and grinned that cocky grin.
Oh yeah.
I was definitely ready.

With a long, slow lick, he rose from my breast to stare down at me once more. Watching my reaction, he slowly slid his fingers beneath the edge of my panties. The room started to spin. Still watching, he tiptoed his fingers lower, then deeper. I closed my eyes. Massaging, probing, he moved his hand in time with my gasps. I could feel the ecstasy building inside me. I grabbed on to him. Dug my fingers into his shoulders. Faster, deeper, two fingers now, maybe three.
More, more, more!

The room shattered on my gasp. My eyes flew open. Radiant light everywhere. I feared I wouldn’t be able to see him past the brilliance of the glow, but there he was. The dark, strong jaw, the wide, thin lips. Those chocolate eyes that anchored me. I cupped his cheek. He lowered his lids and inhaled a deep breath. The glow around us swelled with his lungs. I laughed. How could I have ever lived without this power? It was everything.

“More,” I said, surprised by the huskiness of my voice. His eyes flashed, and that cocky grin returned. In a quick move, he removed my panties. Naked, I froze. He stopped, stared down at me. His expression was unreadable, but his thoughts suddenly opened to me. And warmed me nearly to tears.
Perfect.

I reached out for the button of his pants. He blinked, and his thoughts vanished. I trusted him. He ran a hand over my hair, then kissed me as he laid me back down. Without a word, he took my hands and lifted them over my head. Then he removed his own pants, always watching my reaction. I smiled. The barriers
between us were crumbling. I could feel his heartbeat now as if it were my own. I ached with the urge for more of him, but I couldn’t tell if the need was mine or his. It didn’t matter.

I spread my legs, and he moved his hips between me.
Don’t want to hurt. Always hurts the first time. Don’t want to be the cause of more pain.

I touched his lips in a gentle kiss.
I know who you are, Theo. What we are together. No pain will change that. Only make us stronger.

He kissed me back hard. I wrapped my arms around him. I felt his tension as my own. Slowly, he moved forward.
More, more
, I whispered through his thoughts.
Now.

He pushed forward, and my lungs emptied on a moan. But this time, there was no deep breath of recovery. He stared down at me, his eyes wide, neither of us able to breathe as the warmth of the glow around us pulsed. The bond between us became our breath. I touched his face. Kissed him. Slowly he started to move.

I floated. No longer a person of flesh and bone, I was nothing but power now. An essential part to a glorious whole. He kept us joined as he pulled me from the bed to straddle him, on our knees. He guided our rhythm as the feeling built inside me once again. Only this time, it was so much more because I could feel it building in him as well.
Oh God!
Faster and faster we moved perfectly, as one. The light pouring out of us grew brighter, nearly blinding. I buried my face in his shoulder, held on for dear life.

Together we exploded.

We lay in the bed, facing each other. I couldn’t stop touching him. The sticky sweat on his skin. The hot feel of his chest. I couldn’t remember how much time had passed since I’d last taken a breath. All our walls were down now, all our barriers vanquished. The burst of golden light had softened to a warm glow around us. Neither of us said a word. We didn’t need to.

Staring into his eyes, I saw his entire life story play out like a captivating movie. What he remembered of his childhood on the streets of Chicago, the son of a teenage prostitute. The buildings they squatted in had been filthy, full of disease and feces. He’d been terrified when his mother’s pimps went on a rampage. He’d taken the beatings and learned to cower whenever they approached. The hope he allowed himself during those fleeting days when his mother sobered enough to acknowledge him had been continually shattered when the drugs returned. When the social worker found him hiding in an alley, his distrust and fear
had been instinctual. From group home to foster home, his life had been constant uncertainty. Then he’d been sent to school and found a savior in education. His resolve had been set. He’d make himself despite his beginnings, not because of them.

As a teen, he’d sought out his maternal grandparents. I knew this memory and winced, knowing what would happen. The luxury of the home set in a privileged suburban neighborhood had been like salt in his veins. The man he’d seen behind the etched paned windows—tall, sandy haired, with the distinct nose and eyes of his mother—spat in disgust when the housekeeper informed him of Theo’s unexpected arrival. That was all Theo had needed to see. He hadn’t waited for the housekeeper to return and dismiss him. He’d walked away with head held high, not even flinching when the iron-scrolled gates clanked shut behind him. He’d paused only a moment to memorize the ancient family crest—some distorted winged creature behind a decorated shield—an image he’d eventually have tattooed on his chest as a permanent reminder of who he would never be. The need to connect had shifted inside him that day. His family had refused him, but he would find that connection somewhere else. The search had begun.

I saw his high school years and was mesmerized by the athletics and normal high school trials that I’d missed out on in my captivity. He had entered Butler on scholarship, and it was there that the hand of fate had finally interfered. Jon Heldamo—Theo’s designated roommate—had introduced himself that first day of classes. The years unfolded in a new light then. The two young men’s companionship had grown into a camaraderie. The camaraderie had bloomed into a brotherhood. Never far from the other, they’d formed a bond that evolved into absolute devotion. It was fascinating. I’d always known that Theo was loyal to Jon, but this went beyond shared experiences. It was something that had always been inside Theo. I could see that now. Just as a piece
of Theo had recognized a matching piece inside me, another part of him had recognized a counterpart in Jon.

But where had that part of Theo come from? Not from his mother; that was obvious. But somewhere. He’d been right when he’d said that this bond and power between us wasn’t something I’d done to him. I could actually see it inside him, just as I could pinpoint the warm and welcoming place inside me.

The glow around us surged as I focused on this new piece of information. The new powers I’d developed since my escape—the transformative abilities, the increased strength in my control—had all happened after meeting Theo. Our connection had sparked something new inside me, just as it had sparked to life this piece inside him. Together we had created something new, and even more powerful than either one of us alone. Was this another kind of supernatural power? Was it love? As the room pulsed with golden light, I knew that trying to separate the two things would be as impossible as separating this connection between us. This was love, and it was more powerful than anything else in existence.

He ran his fingers over my face, touching, now learning my mind. We lay that way for hours, not breathing and not caring. Then when the need flared—always at the exact same moment for each of us—we’d reach for each other, come together again until the power swelled and exploded out of us, leaving us fuller and stronger than ever before. This must be what the poets meant by
bliss
.

His fingers paused under my eye, a small frown line formed between his brows. As I’d been visiting his past in his mind, he’d just walked through one of my memories, one where I’d hidden for hours in a cramped pantry cupboard, my knees to my chin and my eyes closed tight. Markus’s tutor had caught me spying. I never had my own tutors and had to eavesdrop on my brothers’
if I wanted any kind of education. Father had been incensed at my gall. I’d hidden in the cupboard for hours, waiting. Then he’d found me.

Theo closed his eyes. I knew he felt my terror, my pain. I wanted to take it away from him, so I pulled out one of his own memories. I wanted to know where this instinctual need in him to connect with others came from. So I drew a memory from where I’d felt the urge the strongest.

He stared down at a woman as he pounded himself into her. Lips parted, head thrown back, she’d cried out in pleasure as he continued to thrust his need inside her. As I watched, her face changed. Older, younger. Dark hair, blonde hair, red hair. Two at a time. In a closet, in a bed, in a car. Always the need to connect driving him, searching.

I pulled back, shocked. I stared at him and wasn’t sure what I saw. The glow dimmed around his face. The frown darkening his face grew clearer. He reached out to touch my lips, and I pulled back. Suddenly, I gasped for air.