“Give me your hand,” he said. The boy complied. His skin was dry. Cold. A shock of static jolts through them and Rex pulls away.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
“You think they won’t test it tomorrow?”
Rex nodded in understanding and gave his hand back to Quinn. He took it again, and unlike every other second of the day, he allowed the current to run free. The charge ran from his fingers and palms into Rex’s hand. The boy’s eyes open, he’s scared but unharmed.
“You’re doing that?” Rex asked. Their hands bonded together. Quinn wasn’t holding back.
“Yep. It doesn’t hurt?”
“Nope.”
He released him and stepped away, hand crackling from the surge. Rex looked unharmed. If anything, he seemed excited.
“Now you know,” Quinn said, getting back in his bed. There was a tiny moment of shame. It felt good to release the energy.
“Would that have hurt someone else?” he asked.
Quinn laughed darkly. “Don’t tell them what you can do or what you know. Make them figure it out. None of us are sure what they’re doing or why, but it can’t be good, you know?”
Rex nodded but it was clear he didn’t fully understand. That was okay, Quinn thought, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He’d find out soon enough. They all would.
*
The apartment smells like burned pizza and it’s not a surprise to find Astrid sitting on the counter drinking her disgusting soda and chewing on a piece. Her blonde hair is damp and hangs over her shoulders, soaking her T-shirt. He walks past her, grazing her knee with his fingers, and heads to the refrigerator.
“Want a beer?” he asks, holding out two bottles between his fingers.
“Nah, I’m good.”
He shakes his head and thumbs off the cap, grimacing from his sore skin. She reaches for him and lifts his hand to her mouth, kissing the injury.
“Tonight was shitty,” she says. “All around shitty.”
He swallows a gulp of beer. “It really was.” He runs the back of his fingers over her cheek. “You want to tell me what happened out there?”
He’s known her long enough to know she’s rattled. That whatever transpired between her and the woman was intense.
She presses her forehead to his and speaks quietly. “One second I’m pushing on her chest, feeling nothing—she was slipping way—and then the next it’s the most wonderful feeling, something I can’t describe. It felt so good. So perfectly right. Peaceful. And then…” Tears spill down her cheeks. It’s an unusual sight. He wipes them away with his thumb. “And then she was back and the contrast…it was like having my soul ripped apart.”
A sob catches in her throat, and Quinn is far from an empath, but her sorrow is palpable.
“What can I do?” he asks her, eager to heal her pain.
Her fingers slip around his neck. There’s no doubt Astrid gets affectionate after an adrenaline boost or a mission. It’s when they shared their first kiss. How they first made love. But this? This is different.
“Thank you for being sweet and trying, but there’s really nothing you can do.”
His smile is determined. “You underestimate me?”
“No, but it’s hard to explain how deep it goes. I just want to make it go away.” She exhales and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Maybe I should start taking Pixie Dust, you know, something to make me forget.”
“You don’t need a drug to feel better, Astrid. I know you’re not used to relying on other people, but I’m here. Owen’s here. Our offers to help aren’t false. But you’ve got to let us in.” He touches her chin. “Will you? Let me in?”
She wipes a tear off her face and nods.
He leaves the bottle on the counter and pushes her knees apart so he can get closer. She tugs him forward, pressing her lips to his. Her hands explore his upper body, his chest and shoulders. She desperately inches toward him, nails dragging down his exposed arms. The kisses come harder, more intense, and he hooks his fingers over the edge of her shorts.
“Let me help you forget,” he whispers into her mouth. A tear rolls down her check and he kisses the salt away.
“Lift up,” he tells her, and she obliges, letting him remove her shorts and panties. He kisses her knee, down to her inner thigh and touches her core. She’s wet, hot, and she leans back, knocking the pizza box and the beer into the sink with a clatter.
One last time, he finds her lips and kisses her hard on the mouth. He makes a promise with his eye and drops between her legs.
Quinn may not be able to take away the truth of Astrid’s experiences or soothe the Echo part of her psyche, but he’ll do everything he can to make her forget the pain and burdens she carries. He swipes his tongue across her warm core and knows that he can at least start by giving her the best damn orgasm of her life.
Chapter Four
Astrid
The feel of his mouth…
Like, how did he know how to do all that? The stuff with his tongue? The flutter thing and the sucking and--
Wham!
“What the hell, dude!” she shouts, stumbling backward from the punch that just landed on her arm. She manages not to fall on her ass in the ring, which would have been embarrassing in front of everyone in the gym. As it is, only a few people glance over from their workouts.
Owen holds up his glove-covered hands. “I’m sorry! Are you okay? I thought you were with me!”
“I was,” she snaps. But no, she wasn’t. She can’t stop thinking about Quinn and his magic tongue from the night before. He promised to make her forget. He did not warn her about seeing stars.
Sweet, merciful...
“Astrid!” Owen’s voice slams into her consciousness again. “Are you okay? Because if you’re still upset, we can take a break today.”
“What?” Man, she needs to get her head together. “Sorry, I’m fine.”
He makes a disbelieving face.
“Seriously. Totally fine.” She shakes it off and looks at her student. Owen isn’t a bad fighter. He’s got the accentuated skills enhanced by the project, but he needs to work on his accuracy and form. She lifts her hands to spar with him again when a figure catches her eye at the front door. “Crap. It’s Jensen. Get out of sight.”
He’s tossed up a false shield, an image concealing him from Jensen’s eyes, before she even gets her gloves off.
Her mentor’s former partner strolls through the gym. He’s older, mid-fifties with graying hair, and fit from his work with the FBI. If her mentor was a father figure, then Jensen was his serious older brother. He and Atticus developed the Elite gym and a program to recruit and train highly skilled men and women for specialized government missions. Astrid took over training the recruits when she turned twenty-one. Soon after, Atticus started letting her out in the field to do her own work—off the record. Jensen knows Astrid, and now Quinn, help protect the city. He doesn’t know about Project 12, the group home, or the other survivors.
She hops out of the ring and he opens his arms, giving her a big hug. Abruptly, he pulls back and looks her over. “Are you okay? I heard you and Quinn were at the fire last night.”
“Yeah, we’re okay. It was pretty intense, though.”
“At no point did we agree you could head into a blaze like that. It’s too dangerous.”
“We saved lives, Jensen. You can’t make me feel bad about that decision.”
“You risked yours. What would Atticus think?” He looks apologetic as soon as he brings up her former mentor. “Astrid, I just want you to be safe.”
“And I just want to do my job. We are being safe.” She sighs, knowing they’re at a standoff, and waves him toward her office at the back of the gym. “Did you stop by to tell me something? Is Rowe causing you problems? Because I told you he was a hot-head and may not be a good fit for the program.”