In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)

Ari clenched her fingers into tight balls, wishing she could take the words back, suddenly wishing she’d never walked into the DSS offices. Whereas just moments earlier she’d felt safe—comforted by the knowledge that Beau would protect her and find her parents—now she felt terrified and wanted to be as far away from this place as possible.

She skated sideways, eyeing her pathway to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. There was a doorway just outside the exit from the kitchen, on the left, that led into the living room. And escape. There were other security firms. She’d only sought out the Devereauxs because it was who her father had said to look up. She could even hire a private investigator or simply go to the police, which is what she should have done from the very start.

When she’d eased past the barrier of the bar stools just enough to make her bid for freedom, she lunged for the hallway, bolting like a spooked deer. A strong arm wrapped solidly around her waist, hauling her up short, and she turned, prepared to fight. Two of the bar stools simply lifted in the air, hurtling toward her unseen attacker.

“Damn it, Ari! It’s me, Beau. Stop with the chairs. Those sons of bitches hurt!”

His voice infiltrated her utter panic and the overwhelming desire to be away. Anywhere but here. She went still and the chairs tumbled to the floor, lying on their sides. Beau had his arms solidly around her waist, facing her, his expression hard, fury so like his brother’s a storm in his eyes.

Tears suddenly welled up in hers. He was angry with her too? When she and Beau had discussed the possibility during that first meeting? He had been the one to broach the subject. Not Ari!

A tear slid down her cheek, warm against the ice of her skin.

“Why are you so angry with me?” she choked out, it taking every ounce of her control to prevent the words from ending in a sob.

The rage in his eyes was simply too much for her to bear. She dropped her gaze, her head lowering in defeat, her hair falling like a curtain and obscuring her view. She was aware of more tears, blurring her vision, so she simply closed her eyes, shutting out everything around her.

Helpless anger bubbled up in her veins, replacing her utter despair. She wanted to bring the whole goddamn house down—and she could. Now more than ever, she was cognizant of just how much power she wielded. Never tested before a few short days ago, it was now like a second skin, always lurking just beneath the surface and for the first time she embraced it.

Because she had something her parents’ kidnappers didn’t. The ability, from a distance, to wreak complete and utter chaos. She’d already proved she could slow a bullet. Her only vulnerability was being drugged and someone would have to be close enough to her to be able to manually inject it into her. Because someone wielding a dart gun would be ineffective because not only could she slow its trajectory, but she knew—knew—she could redirect it right back at the shooter. Unless . . . She didn’t know it was coming? Was she vulnerable to something similar to a sniper only in closer proximity and with a dart gun?

As soon as the thought occurred, she shook it off. The knowledge was there, buried in her subconscious. Certainly no one told her these things. Who would have told her? Her parents were as baffled as she was as to the how and why of her powers.

And yet she knew or maybe she sensed, but whatever the case, she was absolutely certain that she could deflect a threat to her, even if she didn’t know it was there.

Just how extensive were her powers? To have such reflexes, such instincts was more than simple telekinesis that required concentration and focus. Walking down the street, being randomly shot at and yet still being able to deflect a bullet was something else entirely, even if she had no idea what, how or why.

She felt a surge of power, restless, edgy and eager to be unleashed. Set free to do what it had always been meant to do. Protect her. Protect the people who mattered. And these people, all standing there, angry, slinging hurtful words like arrows didn’t matter.

Cabinet doors flew open. Glasses hurtled through the air in Caleb’s direction. She turned just enough to see him in her periphery, cursing and dodging as glasses hit the floor, the wall behind him, even the ceiling. One scored a direct hit, glancing off his shoulder to then shatter on the floor.

She was careful to protect Ramie. She projected an invisible shield, constructing it carefully in her mind, silently commanding the objects doing her bidding not to come near her. Amazingly it worked. Ramie threw up a hand to protect her head but a plate met with resistance two feet away and literally bounced off, falling harmlessly to the floor where it broke in half.

Beau’s hand curled around her shoulders, firmly holding her but careful not to hurt her. He turned her, and then simply crushed his mouth to hers, his kiss deep, demanding, powerful. If his intent was to distract her from the barrage of objects his brother and the others were currently dodging, it certainly worked.