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The setting sun cast a pink glow over the water. I sipped the soda in my hand, just staring at the ocean while Valerie chatted with Jennifer. The house was not empty when we got home and that soured my mood a fair amount, but I put on the benign smile and we joined Steve and Jennifer on the patio.
The phone buzzed and Steve answered. When his gaze jumped to me before he disappeared in the house, my curiosity peaked and I followed him in. He flipped to the Boston channel, and there I was in high definition glory singing Hallelujah with all the children gathered around the piano.
“Damn,” both Steve and I whispered for very different reasons. Mine was based on actually hearing myself sing. It did not sound anywhere near the mediocre melody I heard in my ears. What came out of the television speakers was a voice, pure and strong, that rivaled most current day pop stars. I glanced at the door where Valerie now stood; her gaze locked on the television, with that special, heightened color filling her cheeks, and began to understand why she got that hornier-than-thou look when I sang.
Our awe was short lived as the news story cut from me singing to video footage from a past I didn’t remember. Steve reached for the remote.
“Leave it on,” I said as the facts surrounding my family unraveled. My father was a kidnapper and murderer and my mother had been his last victim. They speculated my parent’s marriage had to be Stockholm syndrome or he completely duped her into thinking he actually was Christopher Ryan. References to another chilling incident after a major motion picture premier were made and then videos of Tom and me covered in blood being escorted out of a warehouse filled the screen. My mother’s death was highlighted next and the near death of my brother. That was the first mention of Steve and the question of his motivations in raising us. A more recently banged up version of both Tom and me stood at the front door glaring out before I slammed the door shut.
However, none of these images really sank in. Not until the last image appeared. I reached for the couch at the picture of the bloodied and broken man wheeled in from a heliport. His face unrecognizable through the swelling and bashed bones, but Valerie’s panicked gaze and her deathlike grip on the man’s hand, made me turn toward her. Her eyes were wide, clearly registering the same horror flashing in my blood. That form was me and, as the voice over announced, this was the last footage they had of me until this afternoon.
According to the story, I should not have been breathing when they wheeled me in, and my chances of survival were slim. It was a miracle that I survived, never mind recovered to the point of being able to put a coherent sentence together. The newscaster joked that he’d have to get the name of my plastic surgeon.
So much for a human-interest piece highlighting cancer victims. I sank to the couch, soaking in the information and my gaze moved to Steve. The ex-FBI agent.
His jaw tightened at the speculations drawn regarding our family. This time when he pointed the remote, I didn’t stop him from shutting off the drivel. Silence hung over the room.
“Did you know?”
Steve met my gaze and nodded at my question. “Yes,” he said and placed the remote on the coffee table. He took a seat and rubbed his face before issuing a sigh. “I knew what your dad was when I met him.”
“And you... killed him?” I asked because that would be the one reason I could think of why he would take us under his wing. Guilt.
Steve didn’t answer right away. “I didn’t kill him. I leveraged his skills to track another serial killer and he was caught in the crossfire. Your father...” He stopped and dropped his gaze. “Your father offered to help because he wanted the killer as much as I did. At the time, Jen was in a coma and I had nothing to lose. Not only was your father a computer genius, he also had a piece of the power in your veins.” He leaned back in the chair. “I should have hauled your father in, but I wanted to nail the bastard who nearly ruined my life more than I wanted to follow protocol.”
“But my father was a serial killer?” I still couldn’t rap my head around that. The idea of taking an innocent life made me feel physically ill.
Jennifer came into view and opened a cabinet, scanning the contents before pulling out a Digital Video Disk. She turned and extended it to me. “If you really want to know the story of your father and mother, it all starts here.”
I took the case and stared at the title. A few of the letters made sense and it took me a half dozen times to sound out the words, but finally I stuttered, “Survival Games?” and looked up at Steve. He gave a curt nod.
“It’s not pretty,” he said. “The script is based on video evidence of what he was involved in, but it doesn’t show everything that happened. There were things that occurred that never made it into the script because your father wiped out all record of his brother’s involvement. The rest is pretty accurate based on his memories.” Steve tapped his temple and shrugged.
“You have my father’s memories?”
“Yes. That came with the supercharge.” He glanced at Valerie and I turned my head in time to catch her warning glare. She was protecting me again and a new level of anger burned through my disbelief.
“What is it?” I snapped in her direction. “What are you so fucking afraid I’ll remember?”
“Watch your language,” Steve warned and all the muscles in my back contracted.
Instead of hitting this tension head on, I stood, with the movie in my hand and headed up to the silence of my room, slipping the disc into my laptop. I propped the computer on the nightstand, but before I could press play, Valerie opened the door.
“Just leave me alone for a little while, okay?” I asked, keeping my voice reasonable and calm even though a storm was brewing under my skin. There were too many questions and not enough answers, and I was hoping the video would clue me in to some of my locked past. I didn’t really care if it prompted a seizure at this point, I just wanted those doors to start opening.
Valerie paused at the door, looking dejected. “I want to...”
I shook my head, stopping her. “Let me watch it alone. Please.” I didn’t leave any leeway in my answer and the sudden tension in her clamping jaw, coupled with the bright sheen on her eyes, made me sigh.
“If it’s as bad as Steve says...”
Her gaze dropped to the ground before it moved to the pictures on the wall. “The movie doesn’t do justice to the reality.” She brought her stormy eyes back to mine. “And I’m sure it’s going to make you question a great deal of things.”
She didn’t know the half of it, and I raised my eyebrows.
She closed the door and stepped closer. “I know you already have questions, but as Steve said, what you’re going to watch isn’t the full picture. I might be able to help fill in the blanks if you need it.”
I tilted my head at her comment and considered the ramifications. “You have the memories too?”
She grinned and the color in her cheeks bloomed. “I have so much shit in my head that it’s amazing I don’t short circuit.” She crawled on the bed, curled up next to me, and reached over, hitting play on the computer screen.
If the movie hadn’t been based on the true story of my father, I might have enjoyed it. It certainly was a steamy suspense, and I couldn’t quite grasp the fact it was about my parents. The actor playing my father was the spitting image of Tom and my gaze moved from the screen to the picture of my family when I was a kid. I was the one who looked like my dad.
“You and Tom are only half brothers,” Valerie whispered in my ear and I turned to look at her. She pointed at the screen. “That’s his biological father. He and your mom got married after all that shit happened.”
“Aren’t we twins?”
“Yes. You shared the same womb, but you were conceived by different fathers.”
“Oh,” I whispered and concentrated on the movie.
“Why didn’t my father use his powers?” I asked when the scene transitioned to him as a prisoner.
“He didn’t have any. That was all your mother. There is a whole other side of things that this movie doesn’t show, one that Tom’s biological father didn’t disclose when they were writing the script, but he was down there with them. I can’t imagine going back to the place you were meant to die in.” She shuddered in my arms and I couldn’t agree with her more. If I had been given the choice to relive such horrors just for a paycheck, I would have passed a hundred times over. I gave her a squeeze and she glanced over her shoulders at me, offering a hint of a smile before we both refocused on the movie.
As the last scene faded, I stared at the rolling credits; not comprehending the ordeal, or even how my father walked out of that place. “I thought Steve said my father died in the cross fire of one of his cases?”
“He did.”
“But...” I waved at the screen and she rolled towards me.
“Your older brother, Eric, was the one responsible for giving him another fifteen years on this earth. Eric and your mom had the same power that flows through my veins now. The power to heal. Your mother also had the powers in you. They balanced out in your parents. Sort of the way they do in us. I guess Steve held onto a lot of it until he met me and the fates dictated we were now the two sides of the coin.”
“What two sides?”
“Light and dark.” She pulled me into a kiss. “Healing and destruction,” she said when our lips parted.
I stared into her calico eyes still unable to grasp the whole thing. My father had killed for fun and got away with it. He was arrogant and smooth, manipulative and controlling, and despite all that, if the movie held true, he had to be one of the bravest sons of bitches I’ve ever seen.
Was I the same way? Is that why no one would let me unlock my past?
Her head shook as my thoughts paraded through her mind. “No. You aren’t manipulative and controlling, and you’re sense of right and wrong is so deeply ingrained, you’re definitely like your mother in that respect.”
“So, you think I’m arrogant?” I stuttered and she grinned.
“And brave,” she added.
“And smooth?” I lifted an eyebrow.
She laughed and shook her head. “No, you aren’t smooth, babe. You’re more like a bumbling genius when you try to be smooth.”
I couldn’t help but grin and when she went to sit up, I pushed her back on the bed, covering her protest with my mouth. The lock clicked on the door at my direction and I pulled away, offering her my best salacious grin. “I can be smooth,” I purred and lowered my lips to her neck.
“Chris,” she whispered in admonishment, but her tune changed as I drifted lower, pushing the thin t-shirt up and over her head and tossing it on the floor.
I just gave her a sideways glance and had to admit some of the scenes we had just watched had lit a match in my libido. I was tempted to bind her wrists and try that type of seduction on her just to see how it felt to have her at my mercy.
The color in her cheeks turned crimson and she bit her lip.
“You want to play that kind of game?” I asked, kind of surprised by the rise in her heart rate at the thought of it.
Her one shouldered shrug made me chuckle.
“Do you want me to tie you to the bed post?” I asked, curious as to what her answer would be.
Again, that slight rise of her shoulder, but the heightened color told me more than the shoulder roll.
I slid off her and headed toward the closet.
“Chris,” she whispered and I turned to see her sit up.
“Lie down,” I said and she did as I directed, her expression registering a bit of shock at the forced command. I knew I didn’t need physical bonds to keep her in place, but the idea of seeing her wrists wrapped in satin sashes just fueled my kink level.
I grabbed the sashes off two of her dresses and slowly crossed towards her, rigging slipknots in each sash before I got to the bedside. Before I bound her, I stripped her bra, taking a moment to study her sexy form. Her nipples were already hard and I slid the sash around her wrist, tightening it before tying the other ends to each of the head posts, leaving her splayed on my bed like my personal captive.
The overwhelming power of the situation hit as I stripped her shorts and underwear, leaving her naked on the bed. My heart pounded as I crawled over her, looking straight down into her eyes.
I licked my lips and forced my arms to stop shaking. “Beg,” I whispered, adopting the line from the movie just to see how it felt to completely dominate her.
“No,” she whispered, drawing a smile.
I lowered my mouth to within a fraction of hers, feeling her excited pants fall on my face and then I just grinned, moving away from her succulent lips to the line of her throat. Only my tongue touched her skin and she sighed that breathless sigh that turned the flame into a roaring inferno.
She tasted like honey. Sweet and soft as my lips traveled to her breasts, playing with her nipples until she let out a soft moan with my name on it. Being in control like this was more intoxicating than a fifth of Jack Daniels, and I continued my quest lower until my mouth settled between her legs.
She was so fucking wet already, and now her hands were squeezing the bindings, pulling on them as she writhed under my manipulation. God bless her, she was trying so hard to be quiet when that first orgasm hit; I thought her eyes were going to get stuck rolled back in her head. I didn’t stop there either, even though she was truly begging for me, now. I kept going, bringing her from one orgasm to the next until I couldn’t hold out any longer.
My shorts came off in a flurry and I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just slammed my hips to hers, riding her hard and fast into the land of rapture.