Page 40 of Love the Way You Lion (Rise of the Resistance #3)

The Artist Sends An SOS

RAFE

I ’m in the studio, working on an interesting sketch while I watch for her to get home from work.

Since I’m not burdened with that responsibility, I’m relaxing in my big comfy chair and sipping bourbon.

She strides in, clad in low-rise jeans and a tank top, her bronze skin glowing against the purple of the sling her right arm is—wait a minute.

Like a thief in the night, she heads to the closet, trying to hide that she’s shucking a brace and wincing.

I see Precious on her left thigh instead of her right, and I know it’s bad.

She never throws lefty with Precious unless she has to.

I keep quiet, pretending not to notice that she’s struggling with unbuckling her sheath one-handed.

If she’s going to pretend, I’ll let her.

I head to the bathroom to wash the charcoal off my hands and arms. “I feel that, you know. Don’t think you’re fooling anyone, love. ”

A flurry of mental images about snooping mates and death fills my head, and I chuckle. “You’re not supposed to feel me when I’m blocking you, damn it. Only Taurus has ever been able to.”

I feel her glowering in the other room and I snort, coming into the room.

I have on low-slung track pants and I’m bare-chested with my hair undone.

It’s her favorite look outside of naked, so I give her a minute to stare before I speak.

“You only say that because I caught you trying to pretend that it isn’t killing you.

It could get you killed in a nasty scrape and you are being hard headed as hell about it.

It’s not snooping if I feel it without thinking about it. ”

She narrows her eyes at me. “What do you mean; you could feel it? You’re not—that’s not supposed to—are you empathic?”

“Not last time I checked,” I shrug. “I could feel you hurting and then heard you hiss. Then I felt you hurting again. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was hurting.”

She stomps her foot, and it makes me grin.

Cats of a feather and all that. “You’re not supposed to do that .

I’m empathic with full shields to keep from bleeding into people.

If you feel my pain when I’m blocking everyone, that means.

..” She stops, her brow furrowing and looking as if she’s contemplating something deep.

“It means what? It doesn’t happen all the bloody time. I guess I’ve always been kind of intuitive about people and feelings. I’m a sensitive bloke, that’s all.”

“Oh. Okay. Maybe it didn’t mean what I thought. That’s good. You’re intuitive and nothing else. Good.” She frowns again, and it takes everything in me, not to mention the big ass shiner on the right side of her face.

“Should I not mention that I feel your pain as well? If it’s going to make you frown more, then I won’t. ”

“Feel?” Her eyes widen. “Feel? What do you mean, feel? That’s not intuition. That’s… feeling.”

“Very astute, love. Feel is what I meant. I could feel it hurting—like ‘ow’ for me—and I could feel the intensity; that’s why I’m trying to get you to stop pretending it’s fine. I was humoring you for a bit, but I think you need to get it taken care of. I can’t make you, though.”

“Right. You can’t. That’s right,” she frowns again and mutters under her breath.

“I could try, but it would end with you more torn up, which is kind of counterproductive, don’t you think?”

She looks at the closet again as if thinking about something. She walks inside, out of my line of vision, and I wonder what in the bloody hell she’s doing in there. Suddenly, a lance of fiery pain stabs into me and I roar.

“Holy hell, woman, if you want to walk around in pain, warn me next time, for Christ’s sake!

That’s not funny!” I hear a thump in the closet and look in, finding her on the ground looking stunned.

“If you were trying to prove me right, that’s a damned good way of doing it.

Blade, what in the hell are you doing on the floor? Are you okay?”

She shakes her head, then whispers, “You shouldn’t have felt that. You shouldn’t have. Even with a blood connection, even mated. No one should have, not even Taurus. I’m fine.”

“You don’t feel fine. You feel like you’re still hurting and scared or worried. Definitely stunned.”

Blade jumps to her feet, wincing at the jarring of the appendage.

“Sorry. I don’t understand. If you’re feeling me through everything that I just threw up between us, then I don’t think there’s anything that could block you.

As far as I know, that’s not something normal.

I have stronger shields than non-empaths, for obvious reasons.

I’ve just never heard of anyone, not to mention a non-empathic clone, that could read—no, more than reading, feel—pain simultaneously with a shielded empath.

It doesn’t happen. It doesn’t. There must be some rational explanation.

It’s that or our bond is a lot deeper than we intended. ”

I shrug. “I’ve always been receptive to powers and such.

It didn’t occur to me to say it to you because I can access a bit of my woman’s stuff.

If I think about it hard enough and focus, I can.

I rarely feel that deeply unless someone’s sending it on purpose, like if the woman’s siphoning into me.

It doesn’t surprise me that our bond would be deep, though.

Your blood’s running in my veins, pet. We’re connected bloody deep, I’d say.

We both chose that—as much as we could choose, I guess you could say. ”

Her expression is a bit gobsmacked and I wait for her to process whatever it is she’s thinking, trying not to panic.

Is she upset? I didn’t think it was a big deal; I can access my mates’ gifts.

The kitty calls me a natural power sponge.

She says I have some gift for picking things up.

I always have. I went on a mission once when I was young and green at the Company, liked the art in the git’s house, came back and drew it all.

That’s how I figured out that I excel at art. Somehow, my brain does it.

It seems like it’s making Blade awfully upset, though, so maybe I shouldn’t have told her?

I never know what I’ll pick up. I feel her resistance to the thought I’d picked this up without intending to, or without knowing what kind of burden it could be to have that power for life.

I know she’s wondering how to address it and whether to make a big deal of it.

“Are we pretending I can’t feel that?”

“Argh!!” She stomps into the bathroom, looking irritated .

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. A familiar scene, that, and one I know is fraught with options—none of them good.

The cat did a similar dance when she figured out how hard it was to keep me out and that I could see right through some of her veils.

She’s gotten much better, mind, and sometimes, she’s successful, but again, her powers are much more than anyone knows and I’ve always known at least that. “Bloody hell.”

Scratching my chin, I weigh out the possibilities.

I could give her space; I could not give her space.

It seems irrelevant to me since I feel the frustration and indecision from here.

That’s not even including that damn shoulder injury that she’s going to get fixed tonight, come hell or high water.

I roll to my feet and approach, tapping on the doorframe.

She looks over her shoulder, feeling me as much as I do her. “Okay. So, we have a situation.”

“It’s weird, feeling you as you feel me—very stereo trippy.” I tilt my head, sitting on the counter. “Situation?”

“Well, less a situation, more a confusion. I don’t know how it got so deep, but does it bother you?

Because thinking about it for the few moments before you came in here—it doesn’t bother me.

I kind of like it. It makes me feel more connected to you because I’m more connected to you.

Brilliant dot work, isn’t it?” She shakes her head as if trying to figure out if her words made any sense.

“You’re making perfect sense, pet. Maybe on the redundant side, but it doesn’t bother me at all. However, pretending that arm’s okay won’t work. It’s going to make me cranky as a bear because I’ll feel it, too.”

Giving me a wry look, she looks at her shoulder, warring with pride. “Fine, you win, but only because you pulled the ‘it hurts me, too’ card. I’ll let you know that was cheap. ”

I chuckle, lips curving up. “You don’t have to look so overjoyed about it.”

Her head tilts. “Do you even get cranky as a bear? I didn’t know your cranky meter went up that high.”

“I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that I have my moments. Rarely, and it has to be something that sets me off, but I do. Getting up early in the morning makes me snippy.”

“God, sometimes I wonder about you. You are just about as opposite of me as a person can be. I do not understand why you want to put up with someone who jogs several miles before 8 am, gets volcanically pissed at the drop of a hat, and is as strong-willed as a communist dictator.”

“Variety, my love, is the spice of life,” I say, holding my hand out to her, hoping to lead her back into the bedroom. “I also have a weakness for strong, stubborn women who shag like they only have a few hours to live. It’s a nice yin to my yang. I'd be bored living with another me for sure.”

“Hmm. We can’t have that now, can we? A bored Rafe scares and boggles the mind.” She gives in and takes my arm, walking into the bedroom.

“Too true. That’s when I wonder things like how many people you can hang from hooks in the ceiling before they bust the drywall or how to reprogram the droids to hate each other or what the tensile strength of bungee cords are in relation to balcony velocity.

It gets me in trouble every time.” I sit her on the bed and grin, chucking her chin.

“Besides, you’ve got a lot of right endearing qualities that I enjoy despite your fetish for exercise and early mornings. Layers like an onion, the ogre said.”

She looks up and grins. “I’ve got layers? ”

“You do. It’s hard to be an interesting person without them. Everyone has what the outside world sees and a secret life inside that they only share with the chosen few, you know? Further into the layers, the fewer people it gets shared with.”

Looking pleased, she ducks her head, and I ruffle her hair.

Sometimes, the right words find you. “Speaking of ogres, I’m going to figure out what the cat’s doing now because the arm thing is for the birds.

” I take a peek into my woman’s head, trying to see if I’m hitting a soft core or okay to proceed.

“Yeah, we’re good. They have clothes on and everything. ”

“Huh?”

“I peeped to see if the cat was reachable for a patch up. Have to be careful because last time I got porn.”

“Oh, damn. Did you call her? Rafe, that’s not right. I can wait until tomorrow or next week or whatever.” She frowns; looking like she feels stupid and selfish, and I shake my head.

“Uh-uh. Not next week, tonight. Get it through your skull, General Pouty. You’re getting fixed tonight.

” She gives me a peeved look, and I sense her feeling like I’ve accused her of being judgmental and mean.

“You’re only bossy when you’re covering for something you see as a weakness. Not all the time.”

Her mental string of curse words at my astute breakdown of her psyche is amusing, but she glares at me.

“I heard that. She’ll be here in a blink. Literally, I suppose, since she’s into that poofing thing.”

“Great. This is so unnecessary.”

“Don’t worry. I clarified it wasn’t an emergency. If you’re thinking it can wait, then do me a favor and raise that arm above your head and wave it please? ”

She’s so damned stubborn that for a moment, I think she’s going to, just to spite me. But she changes her mind when I sit on the bed and her arm bounces, causing her to gasp.

“I thought so. No need to cripple us both to prove my point, pet.”

“Ugh. Not good. Sorry. I know that hurt you. You’re right—this stereo thing is trippy.”

“It proves what I was saying. Besides, it’s physical pain. I can deal with that very well. I’m okay.”

Her head tilts and I see by her expression that the cat has told her mate about the injury. She makes faces as if they’re arguing mentally and I wonder, not for the first time, what it must look like to outsiders when mates like us have these mental arguments.

Do we look like schizophrenics? Hell, are all the schizophrenics in the other place just people from another ribbon talking to mates far, far away?

I went to the bottom of the ocean on that one, so I’m going to leave it alone. This is why my mind shouldn’t be unsupervised like I said.

“See? You tell people you’re a little dented and you get all poked.”

“You are more than dented and you know it.” To be safe, I send Deli a reminder to calm down her king before they get here or nothing will get done.”