David thwacked into the ground on his side. Pain snapped out through his shoulder and hip, radiating out into the rest of his body. White lights punctured his vision. Behind the glare, he spotted a slender shape slumped on the ground. Chestnut hair spilled over a pale face. She lay limp on her side, one leg bent across the other in an awkward pose.
"Grace!"
She did not move.
No, goddammit. He hoisted his torso off the ground and propped his weight up with one arm. Fresh agony wrung his muscles and rooted him in place. He stared at Grace, where lay motionless on the asphalt, near the front wheel of the jet. He saw no blood. That was good, wasn't it?
Go get her, you raging idiot.
His body screamed when he shifted his weight, but he gritted his teeth and heaved himself off the ground.
"You okay?" Sean called from the open door of the jet.
"Yes."
"Engines won't start."
"What?" David's head snapped up. "What happened to the engines?"
"I think somebody fried them."
A psychic somebody. Nkosi's army had begun the siege.
From further down the runway, an engine roared.
He stumbled left, until he could peer around the stairs.
The Jeep was back, and it tore across the tarmac straight at Grace.
Damn the pain. He bolted for her and collapsed to his knees beside her slack form. When he carefully pressed a finger into her neck, her heartbeat pulsed strong and steady against it. He palpated her head and neck in a cautious exploration, but discovered no open wounds, just a small bump on her head. Her lips fluttered on a muffled moan.
He sank back on his heels, one hand on his forehead. The heaviness of dread whooshed away, and he teetered from the release. She'd be okay. Thank you, God.
The Jeep roared.
Christ. Lost in his worry for her, he'd completely forgotten about the maniac in the Jeep.
He scooped Grace into his arms and raced away, in a direction perpendicular to the Jeep's line of travel. The air stairs had skidded too far from the jet's door, and he couldn't waste time wrestling the contraption back into position. The driver of the Jeep wouldn't sit idle for a timeout. David angled across the runway, toward the hole the Jeep sliced into the fence. Get Grace to safety. The single goal drove him onward, despite the searing pain in his limbs, despite the throbbing in his skull. Up ahead, a gray metal hanger squatted in a wide, empty tract of land, its enormous doors shut. He sprinted for the smaller, human-size door at the building's corner.
The weight of Grace ripped the muscles in his arms. He clutched her to his chest, gasping and grunting. He wouldn't drop her. He would never let her go, no matter what.
The Jeep's engine snarled behind him.
Fixated on the door, he pumped his legs harder, faster, heedless of the pain and the black spots in his vision. Save her, save her, save her. Adrenaline spiked through his veins, sharpening his senses, until he was certain he smelled the sun's heat. Save her, save her. The door swelled bigger and bigger in front of him.
A clanging crash erupted behind him.
He resisted the impulse to look. The Jeep had bashed into the fence again, the driver hell-bent on annihilating the precious cargo in David's arms.
Tires squealed.
At the hanger door, he shifted his hold on Grace just enough to seize the knob and wrenched it. Locked. Dammit.
He stumbled backward one, pulled in a deep breath, and kicked the door as hard as he could. It burst inward, cracking into the wall and bouncing back. He shoved past the door, into the gloom of a deserted hallway. He gave on cursory scan of the environs, to verify nobody was around, and then took down the hall, into the unknown.
A shaft of muted sunlight spilled out of a room to his left. He veered through the open doorway into a small office. A chair with a high back faced a metal desk. His legs burned, his chest ached, and his arms quivered around Grace. He dropped into the chair and cradled her limp, soft body in his arms.
She stirred a little, mumbling words he couldn't understand.
His heart leaped at the sound of her voice. She was alive and awake — sort of. Better sort of than not at all. He combed his fingers through her hair, sweeping it away from her face. A whispery moan escaped from her parted lips. He skimed his thumb across her pink mouth. She snuggled into him, as if they were napping in bed together.
If only. Instead, they were hiding out from a crazed individual controlled by an evil entity — or energy, or whatever the hell Nkosi was. He should go check on their pursuer, but that obligated him to leave her here.
Blood rushed in his ears. His hands trembled as he tugged her closer, unwilling to break the contact yet.
The Jeep was still out there. So were Sean and Amador, and Tesler. He must stop the assault. But he knew of only one way, and it required him to appropriate Grace's power without her consent. She couldn't consent, because she was dazed or unconscious. He couldn't tell which. In either case, to stop the Jeep and its driver, he needed an influx of her power.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair.
"Mmm."
Her mumbled noise might've signified consent, or maybe he was so desperate he'd latch onto anything he might interpret as permission. It didn't matter. He must do this.
Please understand.
David untethered his mind from his body and rushed into the crossroads, where he commandeered all the energy he could. It wasn't enough. He tapped into his link to Grace and let her power fill in the gaps, until the psychic energy glowed inside him, ripe and ready. Then he plummeted back to the physical plane, steering his mind away from his body. He glimpsed himself slumped in the chair, Grace cuddled against him.
It's all for you.
His mind flew out of the building.
The Jeep screeched to a halt mere feet from the door he'd kicked in moments earlier. The driver's door swung out. A man in camouflage fatigues jumped out, his boots thumping on the asphalt. His ashen skin, a contrast to his blue lips, shimmered with a glaze of sweat. Psychic energy roiled out of the man to lick at the air with invisible tongues. This man commanded metaphysical power, yes, but a weakened version of it. No match for David.
The man shuffled toward the door. In his right hand, he wielded a gun.
David hurled everything he had at the man. The intruder flipped backward and whacked into the ground on his back. His eyes rolled up in his head. Dead?
He hadn't meant to kill the man. He was a puppet, after all, tortured in ways even David couldn't fathom. But the man looked… no. Not dead. David hurried toward the unmoving man, and for the first time he cursed his inability to manifest. If he had a body, he could render first aid.
Energy infused him, sweet and rich and potent, like… Grace.
His feet touched down on the asphalt. Solid feet. On solid ground. He tested his weight, bending his knees and bouncing a little. Yes, this body was real. He'd manifested, without Grace's direct help.
Yet she had helped him. In her semi-conscious state, she discerned his need and channeled more of her power into him to launch him into a manifestation. She was amazing.
God, he loved her.
David crouched beside the prone man and checked for a pulse in his neck. It thumped against his finger, strong but irregular. The man's skin chilled his, the clamminess transferred onto his flesh. He'd seen a man in this condition before. When Jackson Tennant pumped himself full of drugs to stimulate his latent psychic abilities, it left him sickly and pale as death, exactly like this man.
Nkosi's army had a flaw.
"Man, that's not fair. You can manifest without Grace's help now?"
David glanced up at Sean. The boy ducked through the gap in the fence to trot toward him. Amador escorted a bound Tesler in Sean's wake. David rose to greet them.
Sean's lips twisted into a teenage frown, rife with disgust at the injustice of just about everything. "Can Grace teach me to do that?"
"No."
"But you — "
"Still need her help to manifest. Trust me."
The boy slouched, his mouth tightening into a half-hearted pout. "It's not fair."
He slapped Sean's arm. "Get used to unfairness. That's life."
The boy grumbled.
"Who knows," David said, "one day your powers might expand and you may find yourself manifesting all over the place."
His expression brightened. "You really think so?"
"Sure." David pointed at the fatigue-clad man on the ground. "Keep an eye on him. I have to get back to Grace."
"Sure, man. We got this."
David released his hold on this body, on this location. He spiraled back into his real body, and the weight of Grace pressed into his chest anchored him to reality. He nuzzled her hair, drinking in the fresh scent of her. The eyes he cherished opened to focus on his, and he tumbled into those hazel irises.
She smiled, a lazy movement of her lips. "You rescued me again."
"Did I?" He traced his fingertip down her jawline, to the corner of her mouth.
"Yes, honey, you did."
He ran his finger over her lips. "Honey?"
She writhed, trying to sit up. Her buttocks ground into his lap, energizing parts of him that he didn't need to wake up right now.
He hopped to his feet, Grace in his arms, and deposited her on the floor.
She swayed a little, her smile going dreamy. "Would you prefer sweetie?"
"Call me whatever you want." He slanted his mouth over hers, delved deep to savor the taste of her. "As long as you're all right, I don't even care if you call me dumb-ass."
She giggled. "Dumb-ass?"
"I've been hanging around with Sean too much." He cupped her buttocks and tugged her into him. "But from here on out, I'm with you."
"Think you'll start talking like me?"
Another voice answered. "I sure hope not. That would be sooooo embarrassing."
David shook his head at Sean, but felt his lips curl upward at the corners. Anyone could call him anything and he wouldn't care. As long as he had Grace, nothing else mattered.
And so, right there in front of Sean and Amador and Tesler, he ravished her with a kiss that would've made a sex therapist blush. Just because he could. His quest for vengeance seemed a dim memory, a lapse in judgment he vowed to never repeat. He knew exactly what he had to do to make things right.
He parted his lips from her long enough to murmur, "Marry me. As soon as possible."
Her smile radiated into him. "Yes."
Grace wriggled, but instead of loosening his grip on her rear, David squeezed lightly. She let out a sharp squeak. "David, really."
"Yeah, man," Sean said from behind her. "At least spring for a hotel room before you start mauling her. I'm not old enough to watch porn. At least until September."
A volcanic blush raged in her cheeks. What had gotten into David?
Without relinquishing her, he leaned to the side to frown at Sean. "I thought I told you three to stay outside."
"The puppet dude is out cold — and I mean way cold."
David's fingers dug into her buttocks. "Dead?"
"Nah, but I don't think he's waking up anytime soon. Besides, we locked him in his own Jeep."
The tension eased out David, and he shifted his hands to her hips. Thank goodness. Maybe her cheeks would cool down without his hands all over her ass. If the rest of her half-melted body would follow suit, she might pretend her fiance hadn't made out with and fondled her in front of a live audience. She ought to chastise him, but it had felt so good she couldn't muster enough annoyance.
Instead, she patted his cheek. "You saved my life for the second — or is it the third? — time in one day. Feel better?"
"I'll feel better when we take out Nkosi."
He damn well knew what she'd meant. Did he seriously want her to ask do feel more manly after rescuing the damsel in distress right here in front of their entourage? She doubted that, so she let it go. "The guy outside looked half dead. Nkosi's army isn't exactly the Mongol hordes bearing down on us."
He arched a brow. "How do you know what the man outside looks like?"
Oops. She'd assumed he noticed her presence, but clearly not. "I, well, kind of hitchhiked with you on your little expedition through the crossroads." His entire brow dropped, crinkling over his nose. She hunched her shoulders. "I didn't mean to, honey, it sort of happened unconsciously."
Her use of the endearment honey dissolved the confusion from his face. "That's how you knew when I wanted to manifest, and shot me up with more of your power."
Sean sniggered. "You guys a couple of druggies or what? She's shooting you up?"
David sighed. "I didn't mean it like that."
Someone behind her cleared his throat. Amador's voice wafted into the room like a spicy, but chilly, breeze. "Perhaps we should concentrate on locating Nkosi. If we stop him, his army will be headless."
David gave a sarcastic laugh. "Headless?"
"Yes, like a snake with its head cut off. No?"
Grace nudged David with a finger in his side, the only spot on his body that wasn't lined with hard muscle. "Amador's right. We need to track down Nkosi."
"I know. But how?"
Here came the part she dreaded. The thing she'd avoided since her last psychic debacle, and the one task that, at the mere thought of it, hardened frost on her from the inside. "There's only one way. He's too powerful for normal remote viewing to work." She clutched handfuls of his shirt, her fists balled over his chest. "I have to tap into the Gol — "
"No." He growled the word, but it was panic pinching his features. "You don't have to do that. We'll find another way."
"We don't have time." Willing her pulse to slow and her hands to uncurl, she lifted onto tiptoes to level their gazes. "This is the only way."
He pinned her against him with his muscular arms. His eyes, wide and wild, searched hers. His lips parted, but he did not speak.
She flattened her palms on his chest. "There's a catch, though. Since we're, um… bonded on a much deeper level now, I have no idea what this will do to you. The Golden Power might infect you too."
"I don't give a damn what it does to me. It's you I'm worried about."
Her heart stuttered and her gut twisted. She fought back a sob, wringing tears from her eyes. His hold slackened a bit, and her heels hit the floor. She longed to bury her face in the hollow of his shoulder, but she must remain strong, in this moment more than ever. Swiping the tears away with back of her hand, she touched his cheek. "I know you're worried. The Golden Power corrupts me, and I — "
"Shut up."
She tried to push away, but he grasped her hips. "Excuse me?"
"I said shut up." His gaze, concentrated on her, fired bolts of heat into her mind and body. "Nothing can corrupt you. I told you that before, and I haven't changed my mind. It's a fact."
"But you said you're concerned."
He held her face in both hands. "I worry because I know how much you hate using the Golden Power. But I still believe you are stronger than it is. If you can believe that, then there's nothing to worry about."
"David, I'm not that powerful." He grounded her, in mind and spirit, without doubt. Was their bond truly strong enough to overcome this?
He kissed her, hard and quick. "Can you believe it? Can you believe me?"
She studied his eyes, and the truth rippled through her. "Yes. I believe."
"Then do it."
Sean trotted up beside them. "Whoa, are you serious? You're gonna use the Golden Power, right here?"
Grace looked at him. "Maybe you guys should wait outside after all."
The kid stared at her for several seconds, and she could practically hear him chewing on the problem, weighing the risks. But then he nodded, swiveled on his heels, and marched out the door, shouting, "Come on, Gabe, let's go."
In the doorway, Amador was scowling, but whether at Sean's nickname for him or at the prospect being banished outdoors, she couldn't decide.
Alone again, she and David stood silent, face to face. There was nothing left to say. They both understood the stakes, and had made the decision together.
He enfolded her in his arms, and she nestled her head on his shoulder, against his neck. The feel of his sturdy body against hers calmed the noise inside. She relaxed, shutting her eyes. Her mind shook free of her body, rose up into the crossroads, and higher still, beyond the limits of normal psychic power and into the heart of the darkest energy.
She dove into the Golden Power.
Nkosi's voice vibrated in her mind.
You've come home, Grace, and you will never leave me again.