TWENTY-TWO
than anything she’d ever known. They were like honey, sweet and delicate.
He deepened the kiss with strength and desperation. She parted her lips and the taste of his tongue made gravity disappear. He was all heat and desire and her mind floated to a heavenly bliss.
She pulled him closer, but he broke away. He gazed into her eyes as if he was just now making sense of it all. As if nothing in his life had ever felt right until that moment.
He seemed to have been searching her eyes for something hidden, and she wanted nothing more than to open herself up to him. To melt into his arms. Into his heart. And allow him to unlock every secret she’d ever kept. But most of all, she wanted him to kiss her again.
She claimed his lips with a passion she never knew existed. It was deep and urgent, as if being apart from him was no longer an option. The anticipation was so riveting, she could no longer wait.
His hands traveled down the length of her back as if trying to memorize every curve of her figure. He kissed her neck, her throat, the slope of her shoulders. Her skin was on fire. Her breaths came harder, faster, and every cell in her body exploded like fireworks. It was a wanting so desperate, a need so exquisite, her equilibrium spun on its axis. And when his hands gripped her hair, her mind gave up all sense of place and time.
Her feet left the floor, then her back was against the wall. He kissed her like she was his sole source of oxygen, and she hung to him, burying her fingers in his hair. Her heart beat as if on the final stretch of a race. Even her best fantasy had never felt that good.
They pulled apart just long enough to take a breath, then his mouth was on hers again, and she parted her lips to welcome once more the invigorating taste of his tongue.
She moaned against his lips, stealing his breath as he tried exhaling. He lifted her off the floor again, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her effortlessly to the sofa.
She straddled his lap as he buried his other hand beneath her hair. He pulled it back gently and she gasped when his lips started down her neck again. Another wave of heat rippled through her body, aching for him.
His hands slid down her body, and a whimper got hitched in her throat, begging to break free as she locked her fingers in his hair.
“Tristan…” Her voice came out ragged and breathless, but she couldn’t care less. She just needed to say his name.
His lips traveled up her jaw, leaving a trail of fire wherever it touched, setting her insides ablaze. Her mind screamed with pleasure, and she arched her back until he met her lips again.
She slid her hands down the length of his back, reveling at the hills and valleys of his muscles. She had never felt anything like it before. Every cell in her body was about to explode, like every touch was enough to ignite the sun.
Her mind was blissfully empty, and long forgotten was the danger outside those walls. Nothing else mattered except for the hunger in his eyes, and the burning of his body against hers.
Tristan pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. His skin was flushed with heat, and his heart raced against her chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said, breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”
When he didn’t finish, she opened her eyes and flashed him a smile. “No apologizing, remember?”
He chuckled, then sucked in a breath so deep, it was as if he hadn’t breathed in forever. “Anya.”
She closed her eyes, melting at how sweet he made her name sound. “Yes?”
“I’ve fallen in love with you.”
She opened her eyes, and he held her gaze.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he whispered, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I just…I just needed you to know.”
She wanted to say it back. She was dying to say it back. But there was something about that stretch of silence that made her words fail. Something about the feel of those three words on her tongue that unlocked the sane part of her brain.
“I altered you,” Anya muttered. She jumped to her feet and backed away from him. “Oh, my goodness! I altered you!”
He rose to his feet, confused. “I thought we’d been through this already.”
“It’s the connection,” she explained. “When someone is altered, they build a strong but temporary connection with the person who altered them.”
Tristan arched a brow as if he had a hard time following. “So…”
“So, what you’re feeling right now might just be a mirror of what I feel for you.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “I’m pretty sure these feelings are my own.”
“What if they’re not, though?” She ran her fingers through her hair and paced around the small space. “You know what, that doesn’t even matter right now. We’re getting off track, and that can’t happen. Not while my brother is out there with that psychopath.”
Tristan nodded, then sat on the arm of the sofa. “Okay, then let’s get back on track.”
Anya’s heart sank, but she knew it was the right thing to do.
“So, what do we know so far?” Tristan asked.
“The Shadow said something about needing my brother because he’s an empty shell,” Anya said.
“What does that have to do with the anomalous research we found on your uncle’s laptop?”
“He wants to insert a serum into my brother’s system and give him a new ability.”
“What ability could they want to give a nine-year-old?” Tristan asked.
“I’m not sure, but your father said something about a biochemical weapon—” Anya gasped and turned to Tristan with panicked eyes. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“The video.”
“What video?”
Beads of sweat began to form on Anya’s forehead and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “The one where the nurse injected that tracker in the pod. It was some sort of disease, and the antidote was an anomalous serum.”
Tristan shook his head. “I don’t follow.”
“Tristan, if they convert that disease into a serum, they can inject it into my brother and make that his new ability,” she explained. “If that happens, he will spread it to others.”
Tristan’s eyes widened as if he too was connecting the dots. “Your brother will become the biochemical weapon.”
“And the only way to survive…” she stared at him in disbelief, “Will be for the infected people to become like us.”
Anya rushed to the computer.
“What are you doing?” Tristan asked, reading over her shoulder.
“If they really do insert that serum into my brother,” Anya clicked on the search engine and began typing, “We’re going to need Sage to remove it from his system. She’s the only person who’s able to drain an anomalous of their ability without killing them.”
“Who’s Sage?”
“She saved our lives years ago,” Anya explained. “According to my uncle, we were trapped in a bunker and the oxygen was running out. She believed her ability was merely an illusion, so she sent our minds to a meadow while our physical bodies perished in the bunker. But as it turns out, it wasn’t an illusion. She teleported us out of the bunker. And in the process, she also generated new bodies for us. That’s how Rowan and my uncle were able to survive after they were drained from their serum. And that’s how I was able to finally wake up from the coma my brother had put me in.
“You were in a coma?” Tristan asked, surprised.
Anya nodded. “Why do you think I was so agreeable to helping your mother? Here she is...” She clicked on an image from a high school website, and the picture enlarged on the screen. “That’s Sage.”
She wore a beautiful dark green dress as she leaned against her boyfriend’s chest at what looked to have been a school dance.
“Now, I just need to send this picture to Zane and have him find her.” Anya saved the image, then opened her uncle’s email.
Heavy footsteps came from above, and they both looked up. Anya’s muscles tensed.
“Someone’s here,” she whispered. “Grab that backpack in the corner and get as many IV bags as you can.”
Tristan hurried across the room for the supplies while she finished sending the email to Zane.
“We have to go,” he whispered to Anya.
“I just have to attach the picture—”
A loud bang came from the door followed by heavy footsteps down the stairs. Tristan stepped in front of Anya, and she braced herself.
“There you are,” a deep voice came from the darkened stairs as he descended the last few steps. Killian appeared from the shadows, aiming a gun at Anya’s head.
“What are you doing, Killian?” Tristan asked in a firm tone.
“What does it look like?” Killian replied, keeping his gun in front of him. “Catching a freak. Now, step aside.”
Tristan squared his shoulders. “Put the gun down.”
“Why are you defending her?” Killian hissed. “She’s a freak!”
“Because a group of anomalous rogues are planning to release a biochemical weapon that just might turn everyone into freaks,” Tristan explained. “She’s the only one who knows how to catch them.”
“Is that right?” Killian arched a skeptical brow. “And why should I believe you?”
“Because if she wasn’t important, I would have turned her in myself.”
“I don’t care,” Killian spoke through gritted teeth. “Those freaks manipulated my mind and I want to kill them all.”
“If you kill her right now, there’s a good chance we’ll never catch the freak who actually controlled you,” Tristan reasoned.
Killian thought about it for a moment, but then shrugged. “I’ll take my chances.”
The loud gunshot rang out. Tristan swung around and dragged Anya to the floor. Suddenly, a bright fluorescent sphere appeared next to them. Tristan pulled Anya into his arms and rolled into the portal.
A wave of heat enveloped them like a hot car, then it spewed them out. Anya slid across a cold and glossy gym floor with a bleeding arm. Tristan, who had been holding on to her, was no longer there. Screams from teenagers filled the gymnasium, but all Anya could do was look for Tristan among the commotion.
Suddenly, her eyes landed on a familiar face. “Sage?”
A brown-haired young man wearing a tuxedo stepped protectively in front of Sage. Anya recognized his face from the homecoming picture.
Sage touched his arm. She wore a knee-length dark green dress, and thick red curls came down to her shoulders. “How do you know my name?” she asked.
“Uncle Evan…” Anya said, breathlessly. “He said to look for you.”
“Anya?” Sage rushed to her side, but as she went to inspect Anya’s wounded arm, it had already healed. “How did you…? You died in the bunker.”
“No, we didn’t,” Anya said. “Thanks to you.”
“How is that possible?” Sage muttered, stunned. “I sent you all to a fantasy world.”
“It wasn’t a fantasy world,” Anya explained, remembering what her uncle had told her. “You teleported us.”
“Teleported?” Sage shook her head. “No. It can’t be. You were all still in the bunker when I left. Your uncle died in front of me.”
“A new body was generated for all of us when we were teleported,” Anya explained. “And because one person can’t be in two places at the same time, the body in the bunker perished.”
Sage looked confused.
“There isn’t time to get into details right now,” Anya added. “I need you to come with me.”
“Where?”
“I’ll explain everything on the way, but we need to leave now.”
Killian appeared across the room, his long hair pulled back in a bun as he glared at Anya. Sage rose to her feet and stepped protectively in front of Anya. In the blink of an eye, her boyfriend rushed around the gym, then came to stand next to her with what seemed to have been super speed.
The rest of her friends crouched into a fighting position in front of Anya. Fire hovered above the palms of a boy with red hair just as a strong wind pushed the double doors of the gym open with a bang. A petite blonde smiled as a mini tornado swirled in front of her.
A brown-haired girl with high heels used Killian’s own sweat to tighten around his neck while a black-haired boy lifted himself off the ground with his arms crossed.
The flying boy from the fair in Texas. It was them!
Killian reached for his weapon, but it was no longer on his belt.
“Looking for this?” Sage’s boyfriend asked, holding up the weapon he’d snatched without Killian’s notice.
He growled in disgust, looking at each of them. “Disgusting freaks.”
“We’re not freaks,” Sage responded, her eyes glowing bright orange as she lifted her hands. “We’re Anomalous.”
She shot a wave of ice at Killian, throwing him against the wall. Anya had never seen someone have multiple abilities before, but according to what she’d heard about Sage, she was unique in many ways. Powerful. Limitless.
Killian staggered back to his feet, then glared at the group. “This isn’t over,” he growled before jumping back into the fluorescent light and disappearing from sight.
The ring vanished and Sage mumbled something to her boyfriend before turning to Anya.
“Who was that?” Sage asked, offering Anya a hand.
“A tracker,” Anya replied. All six of them stared at her. The rest of the gym was empty. All the students were gone. That was when Anya realized they were at a school dance.
“Is this...?”
“Our homecoming dance,” the petite blonde said.
Anya shot Sage a disbelieving look. “You’re back in high school?”
“Back in high school?” Sage’s boyfriend echoed. “We haven’t graduated yet.”
Tristan staggered into the gym. He tried holding onto the bleachers, but his hand slipped, and he fell to the glossy floor.
Anya ran to him and dropped to her knees at his side. He was drenched in sweat as she lifted his head.
“Tristan, can you hear me?”
“What happened?” he asked, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Where are we?”
“At Sage’s homecoming dance,” Anya said, reaching for the backpack that hung on his shoulder. “You took us back—five years.”