Kat
“Trouble sleeping?”
Yes, and it’s all your fault.
Arik stood in the doorway to the workout room, those ice-blue eyes trained on me with unerring attention, reminding me exactly why sleep was so hard to come by. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Arik’s, saw the glimmer of gold begin to glow until it was a bright, shining amber, until it wasn’t Arik looking at me but his griffin, its beautiful, furry down so soft against my skin. The trail of hair below his belly button hadn’t been soft like that.
I desperately needed to stop thinking about his belly button, the treasure trail that had led to far more intriguing places, just…all of it. The griffin too. But the animal and the male both walked in my dreams, making me restless. Needy.
I rubbed my gritty eyes. “Yeah.”
Arik stepped into the workout room, the dim light from the hallway painting shadows and highlighting hollows on his bare torso. Damn it, did the man never wear a shirt? No wonder I couldn’t stop thinking about him, picturing him like this, like he’d been the other night on my bedroom floor. Like he could be if he took me to bed…
I snarled at my libido to stand down.
“Making progress?” he asked as he crossed the room, oblivious to my internal arguing.
“Not really.” The answer was actually no, but I was reluctant to admit that straight out. Not that Arik didn’t know. He tracked my training like an Olympic coach with his eye on a gold medal. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t gold-medal material, but he seemed determined to get me there.
Good luck with that.
“You know you need to push it, Kat.”
I thought about that bright red blush on his ribs after I’d “punched” him. I’m afraid to push it. And this was my future, my body, right? Maybe I wanted a little more control over both. Maybe it was time to question things a little more. “Why?”
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but I forced myself to speak up, to voice at least one of the hundreds of questions swirling in my head like water in a toilet bowl stuck on flush. “Why can’t we just let it happen…naturally? Let me adjust to all this”—I twirled a hand in the air, indicating the lair and…well, everything, really—“before I have to worry about fighting? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” I hadn’t been out of the lair since I’d arrived, and yet I hadn’t even questioned that. Why? “I mean, I’m safe here, right?”
Please say right.
Arik stopped in front of me, shaking his head. “No.”
Fear clenched my gut into a knot.
“I told you what happened when you were triggered, Kat.”
I cringed, wishing again that he hadn’t.
“The power you have—” Arik sighed, running a hand over the back of his head as if trying to rub an explanation into his brain. The gleaming expanse of his broad shoulders, right there in front of me, tempted me to run my fingers along it, forget all of my worry, all of the unknown in the exploration of his skin. I even felt the tingles in my fingertips, but— “That power killed in an instant, and could do it again if you were ever threatened. Do you really want to run around without a leash on it? Without any way to avoid what could be disastrous consequences if you make a mistake?” Those big hands settled on my shoulders. He shook me gently. “It’s not a risk worth taking, believe me.”
Looking into Arik’s intense eyes, I managed to whisper, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Then work with me. Train with me. It’s the only way to transition you fully into Archai society. Ignoring your power will lead to disaster.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“You won’t.”
I didn’t believe him, but doubt was nothing new. What exactly didn’t I have doubts about these days? There wasn’t a single part of my life that I didn’t question, have missing information on, or wonder about the truth of. The question really was, did I trust Arik to keep me—and himself—safe while I did this?
I’d never trusted anyone like that. I’d never had anyone to truly rely on. But as I absorbed Arik’s stare, I realized the question really was, did I believe he was strong enough to protect both of us from my power?
Yes. Yes, he was. I truly believed that.
With the surety of that belief ringing inside me, I conceded. “Okay.”
“Good.” He smoothed a palm along my bare bicep, causing gooseflesh to coat my skin. “Warm up.”
For a minute I blanked. Then, “Now?”
“Now.” When I hesitated, his voice went deeper, rougher. “Now, Kat.”
Really, that tone should be illegal. It also really shouldn’t make me wet. That was wrong on too many levels to even count.
I pivoted on my heel before he caught sight of what his order did to my nipples, and began a slow circuit around the room, working up to a jog, my thoughts circling to the steady, slapping echo of my running shoes hitting the concrete. Arik strode to the far corner of the room where a large, cylindrical punching bag stood. Hefting it onto his shoulder as if it were a bag of dog food, he carried it to the center of the room and latched the top to a heavy hook dangling from the ceiling. After testing the connection, he turned to scrutinize my progress.
I will not trip. I will not trip.
When I finished my next lap—without tripping—he motioned me over.
Cautiously I approached Arik and the bag. It wasn’t so much that I was scared of the thing, more that it loomed over me with its massive black weight, white targets dotting its surface like eyes watching me. In my mind it became a visual reminder of the looming, scary, massive creatures I might face if I ever had to use my skills, psych or otherwise.
Arik cleared his throat. I glanced at him from beneath my lashes, my gut squirming at the amused grin flirting with his lips. How could this man…male…guy tie me in so many knots? I wanted to be Milla Jovovich for him, not a field mouse.
“Go ahead,” he told me, nodding at the bag. “Give it a try. It won’t bite…much.”
I moved a bit more awkwardly than I’d like into the fighting stance he’d taught me. Squaring my shoulders, I reared back and gave the bag a hard punch, succeeding in setting the heavy weight swaying slightly on its anchors. I shook out my stinging knuckles.
Arik’s choked-off laugh heated my cheeks and my temper. “It’s not funny. How much does this thing weigh, anyway? It’s like trying to push a horse off its feet.”
When he continued his not so silent laughter, I glared, at him and the bag, then squared off and punched again. And again there was very little response. Searching my mind for the things Arik had taught me, I breathed in, out, focusing all my attention and energy in my gut, then punched as I pushed the energy up my body and out my arm.
So, a little more sway this time. My shoulders slumped as I eyed the bag.
“Good, Kat.”
When I glanced over to see if he was being facetious, I instead found honesty in his eyes.
He met my look with a quirk of his lips. “Seriously. You’re focusing, using what you’ve learned. We just need to add your talent now.” He leaned toward me, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let’s show this big ole bag who’s boss. Think of an emotion.”
I discarded the first one to come to mind with him so close: lust. The heat in my cheeks ramped up. Yeah, not getting anywhere with that one. Let’s see. Needing breathing room, I circled the bag slowly, hands up and ready to punch, letting my mind circle as well.
Anger was the obvious choice, but I wasn’t angry at the bag. More…determined. To prove I could do what Arik wanted. To prove I was worthy, that I was as valuable as he seemed to think I was.
The bag mocked me, silent and still. It wasn’t going to win, though. I was.
I let the resolve firm in my gut, fill out my frame as I stared down that bag. I stared until a red haze washed over my sight and the big, black target was all I could feel or think or imagine. And then I planted my feet, twisted, and struck.
“Aahh!” My hand sliced the air in front of me like a knife edge slicing through skin. Except instead of slicing, the blow glanced off the bag, which stared back at me, swaying, not even a crease marring its smooth surface.
“Again, Kat,” Arik commanded.
Ignoring the heat of embarrassment, I closed my eyes, focused, built the emotion, imagined my target—and struck out, my shout ringing in the air.
But when I opened my eyes…nothing.
“Again.”
This time I punched, and again, nothing.
“Again, Kat. Dig deep. Get mean.”
Panic rose, swift and strong, up my throat, choking me. Oh God, what if Arik was wrong? What if there was nothing special about me after all? What would happen to me then—would they send me back to my old life? A life that was meaningless, empty, a life that could just as easily be filled with any nameless face and be exactly the same. Did I matter at all?
Images flashed before my eyes—all the times I’d been rejected, all the times I’d been ignored, unwanted, struck, abused, all the times I’d gone hungry with nowhere to turn. The pictures churned in my head, feeding my fear, feeding my anger, until finally all I could do was lash out. “No!”
My hand pushed, palm out, as if blocking an advance. To my complete astonishment, the bag in front of me popped as my palm made contact, then exploded, swinging up to the twelve-foot ceiling while stuffing rained down all around us. When the bag settled back into place, I gasped. The center was now nothing more than a big, jagged, empty circle.
A huge grin broke across my face. A through and through. And my hand didn’t even hurt.
Ha!
Arik leaned around the opposite side of the bag, expression unamused, head covered in long strands of some kind of fiber. One eyebrow lifted. “Let’s try something a little different, shall we?”
Ten minutes later I sat in the middle of the now clean floor Arik had forced me to sweep, surrounded by a circle of full water bottles. He walked the perimeter as he talked. “Your power isn’t based on physical strength; it’s based on psychic strength. Maybe, in order to learn control, you have to focus without hard physical movement.”
I pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged. “You think so?”
Arik shrugged. “Remember, I’m feeling my way too. There’s no definitive way to train that works for every psych; we just have to find what works for you.”
“’Kay. But how do I strike?”
Arik rubbed the stubble shadowing his chin. “In the kitchen you didn’t have to touch me to make me feel the emotion. I don’t think your gift requires touch at all, though gestures might help you focus.” He nodded at the bottles standing sentry around me. “I don’t want you to touch these, but I do want you to push them, from right where you’re sitting.” One white-blond brow cocked up. “Wanna give it a try?”
“All of them or just one?”
“Just one.”
So he wanted precision, not power. Eyeing the hanging carcass of the punching bag, I could see his point. And if I could dial down the power, it made sense that I could also dial it up if necessary, though the thought of seeing what had happened to the bag happen to a body— I shuddered.
“Okay.” Closing my eyes, I tried hard to shut out thoughts of Arik, him staring at me, my self-consciousness. I focused instead on my body, on filling my lungs deep, all the way to the bottom, then emptying them completely, forcing out every last bit, just as Arik had taught me. The breathing pattern steadied me, body and mind. Raising my hands, palms out, I pushed forward. “Go,” I breathed out.
Silence. No bottles tipping over. Nothing rolling. Refusing to open my eyes and see Arik’s displeasure, I tried again.
“Go.”
Nothing.
That determination, the drive to prove myself, was rising again, but I tamped it down. No losing control. You can do it, Kat. Come on.
Relaxing fingers I hadn’t realized I’d clenched, I breathed in again, pushing with a soft “Go” on the exhale. A faint rattle met my ears, but when I opened my eyes, the bottle had settled back into place.
A heavy sigh sounded beside me. Peeking from the corner of my eye, I saw Arik rubbing his head. Defeat tried to shroud me, but I shook it away. I could do this; I refused to accept any other outcome.
I blocked out everything but my breathing and the emotion I needed. I could feel it then, sliding beneath my skin. It hummed, and the more I focused on it, the louder it got, stronger, growing and growing and growing until it became lava running through my veins. I sucked in a breath, blew it out, and pushed.
“Go.”
But the minute the word left my mouth, the lava cooled and disappeared, fizzling out like a sputtering candle. I didn’t have to hear the silence to know nothing had happened.
“Kat—”
Irritation peaked, at myself and him. My eyelids flew open as I swept a hand around to bat away his interruption. “Shut up!”
Before my unbelieving eyes, the row of bottles on Arik’s side of the circle popped open as if a blade had struck them all in a single swipe. A loud splash sounded.
Arik grunted as water hit his face.
For a moment neither of us moved. And then, despite the thunderhead gathering in Arik’s expression, I burst out laughing. “You— You look—” Oh God. He looked like a drenched cat, actually. Water dripped down his hair, his skin, even his eyelashes. One laugh rolled into another until my stomach hurt, until I was rolling on the floor, crying and laughing and clutching my middle to still the pain. And every time I thought I had it under control, one look at him sent me off into orbit all over again.
It was a good five minutes before a grin began to sneak its way past Arik’s glower. He shook his head, spraying water over the floor and me. “You’re a mess,” he told me, amusement teasing the words and me.
Wiping tears from my cheeks, I couldn’t resist. “I think that’s you.”
“Yeah, well…” He got up, crossed the room, and nabbed a towel from a nearby shelf to dry off, but not before rewarding me with a sexy wink. “You and me both, then.”