Page 19 of Revenant (Spirit Realm #2)

RUE

I t should be illegal for anyone to have so much power over me from a simple kiss. Ellis is supposed to be a nerd—bookish and shy. But, apparently, he puts the same amount of effort into learning how to kiss as he does with everything else in his life. I’m immediately swept away, my body achy with the need for more.

I clutch his shirt, not only to keep my knees from buckling but to ensure he can’t escape. His cock presses against my stomach, the heat of him burning me, and my heart skips a beat at the size of him. His mouth easily takes control of mine, and I submit to his demands. My troubles vanish, my worries disappear, and the only thing on my mind is him.

Hands tighten on my hips as Jameson pulls me back against him until his cock is snug against my ass. Jaceson hums in approval, his arm around my waist shifting until he boldly cups my breasts. His fingers pluck at my nipples, the rough sensations spreading goose bumps across my body.

Gunner guides his hand down my arm, shifting his hold until his palm rests possessively low on my stomach. Memories of him slipping his hand into my jeans make my panties wet, and I clench my legs together, desperate to feel his touch where I need it.

To my surprise, Hicks doesn’t retreat. Instead, he slips the hand on my shoulder higher, not stopping until his fingers tangle in my hair. He then pulls my head back, guiding the angle of the kiss. The slight prickle of pain from his tight grip doesn’t hurt exactly, the ache making me more aware of my body.

I’m standing on a precipice, and I’m not sure if I want to step over the edge or run away as fast as my short legs will allow.

As if sensing my unease, the volatile kiss gentles, and their touches turn soothing. By the time Ellis lifts his head, I have myself somewhat under control. My eyes flick open, and the rest of the guys retreat, though none of them go far.

I stare up at Ellis with new eyes, my view of him shifting. I always thought he was attractive, sexy in an understated way that no one else seemed to notice. Now, when I look at him, I don’t see the quiet but sexy nerd. Instead, I see a man who knows what he wants and is determined to claim it.

I flush under his gaze. Though I haven’t been around many men, I refuse to feel shy after what we just shared. Life and death have a way of changing your views of the world. I might be a virgin, but I know what I want now, and the thought leaves me giddy.

I want each and every one of them.

Together, they make me feel whole and safe for the first time in my life.

They make me feel special. They treat me like I’m a person and not a freak. It’s addicting, and I know I will never get enough of them.

For me, they are it.

There will never be anyone else.

When I don’t run from Ellis, heat darkens his brown eyes. Then his expression gentles, a cocky smirk kicking up the corner of his lips, and he runs the back of his knuckles down my cheek, like he can’t stop himself from touching me. “Better?”

That’s when it clicks—my panic attacks. He kissed me just like he promised, his attention better than any drug. I cup his jaw, permitting myself to touch him freely. He stills, then leans into my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yes, but you will need to be careful. Keep kissing me like that, and I might become addicted.”

His eyes light up, a dimple popping in his left cheek when he tries to hold back his pleased grin.

“I would be okay with that.” His tone is husky, his expression slightly bashful, but the intensity in his brown eyes is as sharp as ever. He rubs his thumb along his bottom lip, as if he is thinking of kissing me again.

As much as I want that, I reluctantly draw back. I very much doubt the doctor will allow us much time by ourselves before he demands our return. Blowing out a disappointed breath, I twist until the guys are in view, and I study each of them carefully. They scan me from head to toe, their gaze’s possessive, though their expressions are grim.

“You’re worried that I was drugged as well?” Because of course they would be more worried about me than themselves. They’re the most stupid, idiotic—and sweetest—morons ever. I shake my head to banish the thoughts, needing to focus on keeping them safe and not my feelings.

Who knew it would be so hard to keep control of those slippery suckers?

“I already have an ability. There is no point in injecting me.” Just when Ellis opens his mouth to protest, I hold up my hand, barely resisting the urge to smooth out the furrow between his brows. “The doctor is ruled by logic. He wouldn’t risk injecting me with anything, not when he has yet to be able to observe what I can do.”

Ghosts hover at the periphery of my mind like wolves circling their prey, and I rub the bridge of my nose to ease the strain it takes to keep them at bay. “I need each of you to tell me your symptoms. These tests…”

I swallow hard, but my throat is too tight for any more words to emerge.

“What she means is that very few of the test subjects survive being injected.” Jaceson is grim, worry knitting his brows. His fists are clenched, like he wants to fight an opponent, but it’s a little too late.

The guys look at each other, as if wondering who might live and who might die, then absolute denial hardens their expressions.

“Not happening.” Hicks glares at me for good measure, like any of them have a say in the matter. I wring my hands, scrambling to figure out how to shove the horse back into the barn after the fucking barn burned to the ground.

A stupid idea hits me, one so reckless that it just might work. I sort through the pros and cons, but one thing keeps popping up.

Do you want them alive or dead?

“Pookie…what are you plotting?” Jameson strides toward me with a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “You’re wearing that I have a bad idea expression on your face.”

I’m not sure if he’s excited about the prospect of getting into mischief with me once again or worried I will do something without him. I nibble on my bottom lip as I look up at him, then I hold out my arms. “I was severely burned yesterday, yet today, I don’t have a single mark.”

In fact, every bruise is gone.

Jameson scowls, madness glinting in his eyes. He gently grabs my arms, then twists them back and forth as he inspects every inch of my skin for the aforementioned injuries. Unblemished skin gleams under the harsh lights, so pale that it looks like I’ve led a pampered, sheltered existence my whole life. My lips twist in derision, my body a mockery of the horror that I’ve survived.

It’s hard not to feel like my own body has betrayed me.

Sure, it diligently healed me over and over, but it also erased the proof of what I had to endure.

How much more will I be able to survive before my mind snaps?

When I shake off my maudlin thoughts, my gaze clashes with his stormy pale eyes, and the insecurities bombarding me melt away. There is no hesitation or doubt in his expression. Not once has he faltered in his belief in me. Not once has he questioned my word.

With more confidence than I feel, I lift my chin and blurt out my horrible idea. “I believe the afterlife is healing me. It wants me to survive to do its bidding.”

I lick my lips, ignoring everyone but Jameson.

If anyone can understand, it would be him.

“I think I can call upon the afterlife and force it to heal you.” My breath halts in my chest, my nerves jittery from equal parts daring and stupidity. “It’s a risk. There is a chance that it could kill you instead.”

I fork my hands through my hair and rake my fingers roughly through the strands, barely noticing the bite of pain as I struggle with my decision. “If they used my blood for whatever serum is now floating in your veins, my touch might increase your chances of survival.”

I’m not aware I’m pacing until I almost run into a large body. I instantly recognize Gunner from his sheer size alone. I drop my forehead to his chest with a solid thud, hoping I’ll be able to shake loose another way to help them that won’t put them in danger.

And come up with nothing.

Defeat slumps my shoulders. Before I can drown in my misery, Gunner lifts my chin. “We knew the doctor was experimenting on patients and accepted the risks when we decided to rescue you.”

I open my mouth to scold him but halt at the glassy look gleaming from his dark blue eyes. I reach out with a trembling hand and press my palm to his face. The heat of him nearly sears my skin, and I brush away the little beads of sweat gathering around his hairline. Heart in my throat, my voice is a rough whisper when I speak. “You’re already sick.”

“Stop your fretting.” He grabs my hand, then brushes his lips reverently over my knuckles. “I’ll be fine.”

I wrench away from him and smack his chest for good measure. “I’m so mad at you for getting involved that I could hit you.”

His eyebrows climb to his hairline, and he blinks innocently, humor crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You mean again?”

It’s all I can do not to stomp my foot.

As if he knows I’m seconds away from a meltdown, he cups the back of my neck. The intimate connection is calming, relaxing me enough to think rationally without my fears clouding my head.

“You are not responsible for the actions of others,” Hicks says, and my eyes widen at the fact that he didn’t automatically blame me, not like last time. My expression must show my shock because he winces. “You can test your theory on me. If it works, then you can help the others.”

“Say what?” My mouth drops open, my brain not processing that he would willingly trust me…then the horrible truth strikes me with the force of a speeding train, robbing me of breath. “You’re feeling the effects as well.”

I lick my dry lips nervously, the pressure of their expectations suffocating. Now that they want me to use my abilities, I’m second-guessing the wisdom of the idea. Nothing good can come from messing with the afterlife.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice anymore.

If I want them to live, I need to take the risk.

Hicks stalks toward me with a determined expression, and I’m not surprised that he views life as something to be conquered. We’re surprisingly similar in that regard, he just goes about achieving his goals differently.

My thoughts scatter as he stops in front of me, radiating man in charge vibes like he’s trying to compel me to obey. The look is very effective. If I hadn’t had a life full of violence and pain, his intimidation tactic might have worked.

He pushes into my space, leaving mere inches between us. Maybe I should be apprehensive, especially after the last time he confronted me, but the cocky man from that night is gone, replaced with one who is begging me to trust him.

He pinches my chin, tipping my head back, like he’s willing me to see the real him beneath all the bullshit. He radiates a natural magnetism that draws the eye. It’s the same with celebrities—you can’t help but look at them. It comes so naturally to him that I don’t think he can help it.

“It shouldn’t be too hard for you to experiment on me, princess.” His green eyes dilate, shards of yellow splintering the color. His nostrils flare, then he leans in closer, as if he can’t resist the lure of my scent. His voice turns growly when he speaks again. “It’s okay. I give you permission to do what you want to me. I trust you.”

I’m not sure if I want to punch him for putting that pressure on me, or hug him for actually saying the words.

Because I believe him.

He takes a step back, allowing me time to process his offer instead of bullying me into doing what he wants. I study him with narrowed eyes, searching for the trap. As if sensing my reservations, his eyes soften, the green color bleeding back, and I realize he is genuinely trying to do better.

He waits patiently, giving me the choice to either start fresh, or reject him once and for all.

As much as I want to stay mad at the asshole, I understand why he did it.

He was protecting his family.

They are my family now—they said so—which means it’s my turn to protect them the best way I know how. Determination settles in my chest, and I straighten my spine. They have to survive, or everything I suffered would be for nothing.

Failure is not an option.

A quick glance shows there are no chairs in the room. I purse my lips in annoyance, then nod toward the bed. “Sit.”

I’m pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t hesitate to obey. He perches at the end of the mattress, watching me intently. He is so calm, he could be sitting behind his desk, calculating the odds on his next business deal.

I would believe he isn’t worried, if not for the white-knuckled grip he has on his knees. The tell is small, something I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been trained to look for even the tiniest nuances of a person’s mood.

It would often save me a beating.

I twist my neck from side to side, my bones cracking as I psych myself up. I approach him cautiously, shaking my hands out, wishing my nerves were so easy to dispel.

When I step toward him, he widens his knees, then hooks his hands around the back of my thighs, and pulls me closer. He’s tall, maybe six-one or six-two, so even with him sitting, we are almost at face level. I should feel in charge looking down at him, but I don’t make that mistake. The only control I have over the situation is what he grants me.

Maybe I should be pissed, but I find his presence comforting, like if anything goes wrong, we’ll deal with it together.

“Explain to me what you’re going to do.” He runs his fingers up and down the back of my thighs, and I’m not sure if he’s conscious of the action.

Who knew that part of the body could be so sensitive?

Though I clear my throat, I don’t tell him to stop. Call me selfish, but I like the intimate connection. “I’m going to call on the afterlife, then scan your body. My hope is that I’ll be able to tell what’s wrong and fix any damage from the serum.”

He exhales, rolling his shoulders as if settling himself, then peers up at me with a commanding nod. “I’m ready. Proceed.”

I’m aware of the others watching, but I am surprised when I find their presence a comfort instead of invasive. I know without a doubt that they are only there to catch us if we fall. Not wanting to wait any longer, unsure my nerves can take another delay, I close my eyes and call on the afterlife.

A comforting chill surrounds me, as if welcoming me home. I carefully dismantle the walls around my mind, ones I built to keep out the voices of the dead. I try to do it slowly, but as soon as the first block is removed, the afterlife surges in like a dam bursting.

Power floods my veins, burning and twisting through my body like it’s desperate to fill up every nook and cranny. It doesn’t take long before the pressure becomes uncomfortable, yet I don’t try to stop it. More and more power fills me until I feel bloated and stretched like an overstuffed sausage. I try to slow the rush, which only seems to piss it off, and it increases its effort to stake its claim on my body until I fear it’s trying to drag my soul into the afterlife.

My lungs seize, my muscles tense, and my insides convulse. My skin aches like someone took sandpaper to my flesh. My scalp is so tender that every strand of hair is like thousands of needles piercing my skin. My teeth ache, my gums throb, and my brain feels like it’s seconds away from boiling inside my skull.

I’ve been conditioned not to feel pain, but I’m so overloaded that all my nerve endings light up like they’ve been set on fire. Just when the pressure becomes too much, when it feels as though my organs are ready to pop and my skin might split, something shifts inside me.

The agony cuts off like a switch thrown, replaced with an icy chill that eases the pain, and my body greedily absorbs it. By the time the last bit fades, I’m left a trembling mess, my muscles so sore that I might as well have been turned inside out.

I’m panting, resting against something warm, and I burrow into the strong arms holding me, not wanting to move for fear that I might trigger another attack.

“Rue?” A hand gently cups the back of my neck, fingertips trailing up and down my nape. I melt, arching into the touch, and practically purr in pleasure. “I need you to come back to me, Rue. The guys are seconds away from losing their shit. I worry what will happen if they lose control.”

That has my mushy brain snapping to attention. I reluctantly push away, then groan when my body protests the movement. I take a shuddering breath, and my eyes widen when I discover I’m in Hicks’ lap. He cradles me close, like I’m something precious. Though his expression is calm, his eyes are a neon yellow.

And are those fangs?

I still, afraid to move, like I might somehow avoid drawing his attention, despite him staring right at me. While he looks seconds away from attacking, I don’t feel threatened. Following my instincts, I reach forward and brush my fingers along his jaw. “I’m okay. I’ve always fought my abilities, only using a fraction of the power out of fear. I think embracing my powers without reservation was like giving it permission, and it unlocked something inside of me, preparing my body for what needs to happen in order to help you.”

My voice is raspy, like I’ve been screaming for a while, and I grimace at the familiar sensation.

“We’re stopping this now!” Gunner roars the demand, and my eyes widen at the vicious snarl that reverberates through the room.

I peer at him over my shoulder, not ready to move yet, and my mouth drops open. Gunner stands sentinel next to the door, but he’s not the Gunner I remember. Though he’s a big man, intimidating for those who don’t know him, he has always been gentle with me. His voice even softens when he talks to me, as if afraid I might scurry away.

The man before me is no longer my gentle giant but an intimidating goliath with his humanity completely stripped away. His blue eyes are washed out, almost gray in color. His muscles bulge under the strain to remain still and his veins pop with his aggression. His chest moves like bellows, like he can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his side, knuckles cracking with the movement. He’s searching for an opponent to fight…and he doesn’t once look away from me.

Then I notice the dent in the metal door in the shape of a fist. The whole panel is warped, the metal stretched under the strain, cracks streaking out from two areas where the door actually buckled.

“I’m sorry,” Gunner says in a shamed whisper, the words torn from deep within his soul. “Please don’t be afraid of me.” He spreads his hands, gazing down at them in horror. “I don’t know what happened.”

His voice is so lost that my heart breaks. As much as I don’t want to leave the comfort of Hicks’ arms, I force myself to stand. As I stride toward him, Gunner curls into himself, cowering in the corner. “Don’t come any closer. Please. Stay back.”

The backs of my eyes burn at seeing the big, indomitable man brought low at the thought of hurting me. Refusing to allow him to second-guess himself, I march right up to him, doing my best to ignore the way he flinches at my nearness or the way his shoulders hunch like a beaten animal.

I poke him hard in the chest, and a surprised grunt leaves him. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes, but I refuse to let him hide. “You told me being different made me special. You told me that I would never hurt you. Was that all bullshit?”

A scowl darkens his face, and he turns to glare down at me. “No, of course not.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’re better than me? That, because you have abilities now, you’re a danger to me and others? What utter nonsense.” I plant my hands on my hips and glare up at him, matching his expression with the same amount of ferocity. “You can’t have it both ways.”

I shuffle forward, ignoring the way he stiffens. He’s practically crawling up the wall to maintain his distance, but I don’t stop until I’m pressed against him from head to toe. A hint of grease still lingers on his skin, and a touch of body wash and all man fills my senses.

“Princess. Please.” A muscle bunches in his jaw, and his hands are clenched so tightly that they tremble. While part of me hurts for him, I refuse to allow him to give up on us without a fight, not when I just got him back. I tilt my head back, a confident smirk curling my lips, and I run my hands up his chest, shivering at the cut angles of his muscles under my fingertips.

“I like it when you beg, big man.” Before he can protest, I lean forward and bite his pec hard. His cock jumps at the contact, pressing against my stomach as it springs to life. One of my hands skims over his shoulder, and I lightly scratch my nails along the back of his neck, liking the thought of having my mark on him.

His hands drop to my hips, clutching me close, and I’m uncertain if he wants to push me away or keep me from escaping. When I wiggle closer, a tiny growl rumbles in his chest, and he quivers in an effort to remain still, like he’s afraid he might attack me if he loses control.

I have no such concern. My nipples harden at the delicious sound coming from him, and my panties are instantly soaked. It’s hard not to squirm against him in a silent demand that he touch me where I need him most. I reluctantly stop nibbling at his chest, loving the shudder that shakes his big form, then I tilt my head back so he can see the truth in my eyes.

“The last thing I feel when I look at you is fear.” My voice is husky with want, and my nipples are hard and achy, desperate to feel his hands on them. Soon , I promise myself. When we get out of here. “It’s like you said—I don’t think it’s possible for you to hurt me. The opposite, in fact. You are my biggest protector. Whatever they injected you with is changing your body to help you do that.”

Seconds pass, and my heart falls when he remains rigid in my arms. Then his expression softens ever so slightly, his gray eyes darkening to blue, and the hands on my hips slide possessively around my waist. “You think so?”

At his gruff question, I melt against him and nod. “I do.”

I rub my cheek against his chest, then reluctantly pull back. He releases me without protest, and I grab his hand and drag him toward the others. Whatever is happening, it’s much too late to stop it. While I fear what the serum will ultimately do to them, maybe I can keep it from killing them if I act fast enough.

“Sit on the floor in a circle,” I order the guys, then kick off my shoes and join them. Jameson is the first to obey, his legs folding underneath him as he drops to the ground, and he leans against me with a tiny sigh.

Jaceson shrugs and settles himself next to his brother. Ellis follows next, his brown eyes full of questions. Gunner grunts as he lowers himself to the floor, his big body taking nearly a third of the circle. Hicks rises from his spot on the bed before stepping toward me, the two of us the only ones still standing.

Never taking his eyes off me, he doesn’t stop until he comes to a rest at my side. His expression is stern, his version of resting bitch face. He uses it to keep others from getting close, keep them from reading his thoughts. It’s a lonely way to live.

He searches my face in silent query, then his lips tighten, and he lowers himself to the floor. I quickly follow until we’re sitting in a loose circle. After surveying them, I wring my hands, then blow out a breath and rest them on my knees.

“As much as I want to take my time, the serum is moving too fast. I’m worried about what will happen if I wait longer.” I peer at each of the guys, my insides a toxic mess at all the things that could go wrong. I’m nibbling on my bottom lip when Jameson leans against my shoulder, his pale blue eyes earnest.

“What do you need us to do?” There is no doubt or hesitation in his expression. His trust warms my chest…and terrifies the fuck out of me.

Determined not to lose them because of stupid fear, I straighten my spine. “Everyone join hands.”

I hold out both of mine, and the guys don’t hesitate to follow suit. Jameson threads his fingers with mine, a contented sigh escaping him, and his thumb brushes back and forth over the pulse in my wrist. Hicks’ grip is firm, his skin surprisingly calloused, and he places our joint hands on his knee, like he’s claiming possession of it. His touch flusters me, but it also sends a surge of much needed confidence through my veins.

Their trust is both thrilling and daunting at the same time.

I can’t fuck this up.

Rolling back my shoulders, I take a bracing breath, then my eyes flutter shut. I wished I’d had the foresight to scan the other patients at the facility so I would know what to expect. My stomach churns at the thought of experimenting on the guys. Unfortunately, we don’t have the time to wait. The more I delay, the more damage they will sustain.

I embrace the chill. Only I don’t draw power from the afterlife, like expected. Instead, ice crackles along my veins where it lays dormant, spreading through my whole body in seconds. Frost creeps over my organs, and I take a bracing breath when it feels like my insides are slowly being flash-frozen.

My grip on Hicks and Jameson tightens, and I wait for pain to riddle my body. Only it never comes. It’s like the afterlife is now living inside me. The sensation is slightly uncomfortable, and the calming sensation of falling snow fills my head in encouragement, my powers eagerly awaiting my command.

Deciding to worry about what that means later, I focus on the guys.

They are the priority.

Grabbing my courage with both hands, I exhale, and the cold mist from the afterlife spills into the room with my breath. I’m careful not to expel too much, not wanting to do any more damage to the guys. “I want you each to inhale deeply and hold it for five seconds.”

Three of them do so immediately, and the other two delay a few seconds, as if wanting to make sure the others are taken care of first. Once the tiny tendrils of the afterlife enter their bodies, I watch it spread, as though I’m viewing an image from an MRI machine. Instead of being dark like I expected, the power shimmers like light refracting off hundreds of tiny diamonds.

I watch in awe as their bodies are illuminated from within…until I notice the thick black spots that remain dormant. The darkness is like an infection, a virus that blooms like a fungus and spreads fast.

Hicks and Gunner look a little worse for wear, the shimmering light appearing tarnished and dim as shadows creep through almost every corner of their bodies. Ellis and the twins aren’t as bad, their symptoms contained to their heads. Helplessness swamps me for a second, but I refuse to accept there isn’t anything I can do. One by one, I work on the guys, sending the sparks of light toward the dead areas.

I try to purge their systems, flooding them with light…and freak the fuck out when their bodies dim alarmingly. The guys gasp for air, and I immediately retreat, shaking so badly that I nearly pass out from hyperventilating.

Only sheer determination keeps me conscious, afraid that if I fall apart, I might lose the guys completely. My heartbeat takes a while to slow, and my lungs gradually stop spasming like the room has no oxygen in it.

When I get myself back under control, I push the sparks through them slower, keeping my pace steady, focusing on the darkest parts of each of the guys. While I studied anatomy to patch myself up, I know jack shit beyond basic functions.

I observe what the infection is doing to them. At first, I feared it was trying to rot them from the inside out, but after looking closer, the darkness seems to be altering their cells on a molecular level.

Forcing them to change into something…other.

Unfortunately, the body can’t tolerate the swift changes. It’s struggling to shut down and do a factory reboot, only to get hung up in the process somewhere along the way. Their bodies are stuck in survival mode, trying to repair the damage, but they can’t seem to keep up.

I can already see the strain on Hicks and Gunner’s heart and lungs. The infection is on such a massive level, they must be turning into what the others call morphs . I focus on the sparks, feeding them more and more energy, and nearly sob in relief when it seems to instinctively know what to do to repair the damage.

Thank the fucking gods.

Jaceson actually looks like he’s thriving, pathways already formed since he’s been hearing voices from the dead all his life. I send the sparks in to clean up the slight deterioration to his body but otherwise leave him alone. The darkness in Jameson seems a little worse, his brain full of shadows. The change is probably inducing a massive headache, but thankfully, it looks like he’s adapting, just slower than his twin. Ellis is different, the tissue of his brain looking like it’s inflamed as he struggles with the changes. Little bleeds seem to happen at different intervals throughout, and I methodically hunt each one down.

I’m not sure if minutes or hours pass as I continue to feed them more and more of my power. With a sick heart, I watch them change before my very eyes, and I’m helpless to do anything about it. Purging them would only kill them, so I do what I can to keep them alive and pray they don’t hate me for it.