Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select) (17 page)

Chapter Twelve

Today, my brother watched me heal a dove that had hit our window and broken its wing. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face made my heart ache. He no longer courts the girl who sells flowers downtown, and he stopped tutoring his students after school. I fear for what’s to become of him.

—Meandress Chronicles,
compilation of family diaries

Sam felt no relief when the bathroom door closed between him and Riley. Nausea washed over him, and the overly bright room spun. He gripped the sides of the sink and gagged, blinking hard, trying to get everything to settle. Parts of his body were on fire, other parts so cold the sweat beading on his skin could turn to ice.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He’d been lost in Riley, but this wasn’t typical lust. At some point he’d been so far gone he wouldn’t have been able to tell whether she’d been right there with him or struggling to get away.

His gorge rose at the thought of what he could’ve done. He whirled and got the toilet lid up in time to lose his dinner. It didn’t make him feel better.

Worse, the need wasn’t gone. His erection was as hard as ever, and the craving kept getting stronger. Already, it nearly overwhelmed his revulsion. But he couldn’t go back out there. Couldn’t face Riley like this.

Everything in the room had a pink tinge to it, and the edges of his vision were darkening to red. He stripped off his clothes and yanked on the shower, getting under the spray without regulating the temperature. There was only one thing he could do now to ease the pressure.

Sam braced his left hand against the wall under the showerhead and let the water pound down on his head and back while he wrapped his other hand around his cock. He was harder than he’d ever been before, so fucking sensitive his first grip sent a wave of pleasure through him that abated the awful, biting hunger.

Relief gusted out in a breath, and he went to work, concentrating on his goal, focusing intently on sensation, not imagery. But control eluded him. With each stroke, he saw flashes of Riley. Tasted her skin, her nipple. Smelled her. Felt her body cradling his. Heard her cry out. Thrust into her, and—

He grunted and came violently, pleasure in a dozen concentrated bursts. He gulped in air, his muscles relaxing, tension slowly draining away. He sank onto the floor of the tub, exhausted, and held his head in his hands, his elbows against upraised knees. The water pelting him gradually cooled, and he felt more normal as the minutes ticked by.

He didn’t know what to do. The power transfer had obviously triggered this in him. Why had it taken so long to manifest? He’d had the itch when it first happened, but then nothing until…well, until he stormed out of the motel when Riley called, and he let a small surge of energy burst out of him. But he’d done so little, and it triggered
this?
What if it got worse with each transfer?

But he couldn’t stop. They still had Chloe and Tanda, and Sam couldn’t back out. He couldn’t deny them what was rightfully theirs. Especially since Quinn was sick and hurting, too. The only cure for her was finishing the job. But God, he was terrified of what would happen next time. Every transfer could affect him more strongly. Leave a greater residue. And put Riley in more danger.

He could send her back to Boston, but she wasn’t some pliant, obedient flower. She wouldn’t stay put now any more than she had the last time, especially with everything else they knew now, and not with Jeannine withholding information. That probably reinforced her mistrust of the Society, reversing any progress they’d made when she first arrived.

Thinking, planning, analyzing had calmed him, but then Sam thought about going out there, to Riley, and the tension returned. He could stay in here all night. Or until she went to sleep. She had to be tired, after everything that had happened. He owed her an apology, and more, but he could handle it better in the morning. Yeah, he’d wait it out.

If she’d let him.

As soon as the water shut off, Riley knocked on the bathroom door. Silence. “Sam? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” But his voice sounded as raw as her wrists.

“Are you coming out?”

His sigh was heavy enough to hear through the door. “Yeah. Give me a minute.”

Riley turned off the light and got into her bed. She had a feeling Sam would appreciate the darkness.

He’d been in the bathroom, in the shower, for more than half an hour. When he first threw himself off her she’d been in a haze of desire, and his horrified expression had pierced her to the core. But then he fled into the bathroom, where she’d heard him retching a short time later. She might have some insecurities, but she didn’t think she was
that
repulsive. No, something else was going on.

She curled on her side and watched shadows flicker in the light under the door as he moved around. The light clicked off and the door opened. Riley’s eyes were adjusted enough to see he wore only a towel. Her heart skipped, but he walked quickly past the foot of her bed to the far side of his own. As far from her as he could get. With effort, Riley kept herself facing away until she’d heard him settle into bed. Then she rolled over.

“Sam.”

“Riley.” The low rumble was an apology all by itself.

“Talk to me.” He didn’t respond, so she said, “I didn’t want you to stop.”

Sam drew in half a breath and choked. “What?”

“I want you to know that. In case some of the problem is that you were afraid you were forcing yourself on me or something. I wanted you, too… That’s all.” That was so not all. Her body still hummed. She could still taste him. Her want was very much not in the past tense. But if she had any hope of desire growing into more, something lasting, she had to give Sam room.

“Thanks.” His voice was soft, and then he cleared his throat. “That helps. A little. I, uh…”

“You can talk to me,” Riley said.
Please talk to me.

“Shit. I don’t even know where to start.”

“I can ask you questions.”

He chuckled. “Okay.”

“What made you stop?”

He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I just clued in that it wasn’t normal.”

Yikes. What did that mean? “Not normal because…”

“It wasn’t regular, uh, desire. I was driven, hungry. More than hungry. I didn’t know if I could stop.”

“But you did.”

“Luck. I saw—” He hesitated. “It’s a long story, and it’s getting late.”

“I can sleep in the car.” So far, their relationship had been all about what she needed from him. She wanted so much to help him in return, and staying awake to listen seemed like such a small thing.

“Not all of it’s mine to tell. So…don’t, like—”

Riley sighed. “I would never repeat something you said to me, Sam. You can trust me.”

Sheets rustled, and he cleared his throat again. “Before the whole leech thing, Quinn used to get what she called moon lust. Her body would be depleted when she channeled energy, and she needed to recharge, to balance it, with sex.”

Riley stilled, a new kind of heat rising up into her face. Who did Quinn recharge with back then, before she had Nick? Probably her dedicated assistant. Her hands clenched until the burns on her arms pulled, making her wince.

Not the point. Just listen.

“I think when I filtered the power she transferred to Jennifer, I got more than the residue. I think I got something from Quinn, too. I’ve never felt that kind of craving before. I never understood what she was feeling, all those years.”

He mused the last, and Riley forced her tense jaw to relax. Just because he was reflecting on the past didn’t mean it had anything to do with the present.

“Does that mean you still need—”

“No, I, uh…I’m good.”

Riley flushed with what should have been embarrassment, but understanding what he meant stoked her fire. Her mouth went dry, and she squeezed her thighs together, to no avail.

“I think that would be it if we were done with the transfers. I can’t draw on additional energy and drive the, um, reaction up again.”

Oh, God. She couldn’t handle this! It was all she could do not to climb into his bed. She rolled to her back and swallowed hard. “So you’ll be like this after you do the next transfer.”

“And it may be worse.”

“You don’t have to do it,” she said softly, though she knew he’d never say no.

“Of course I do. It’s killing Quinn. She has to get rid of it. And Chloe and Tanda need their abilities back to be whole. But I was already worried about the power part, and now this. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” He swallowed, the sound audible from where Riley lay. “I want you to leave. To go somewhere safe. But—”

“But there is nowhere safe.”

“No.”

The sexual tension slid away. He sounded so lonely. Even if he didn’t think of it that way, she’d been mired in it long enough to recognize it in someone else. She slid out of bed and sat on the side of his. Despite the dark, she found his hand and gripped it. “You’re not alone.”

His fingers wrapped around hers. “I know I’m not.”

“No, I mean it. You won’t talk to Quinn and Nick because you think they have enough to worry about. And you want to send me away in case you lose control. But I’m stronger than you think, and whatever I can do to get you through this, I’ll do.”

“You don’t know what that might entail,” he said half humorously.

“We’ll find out together.”

“Anson’s still out there, and we don’t know what Numina’s doing.”

“It’s not our job to find out right now, remember? We’re leaving that to the Society. If Anson messed up their decade-long plans, they’re probably not close to their end game.”

He sat up, and the sheet slid down to his waist. Riley forgot everything she’d been saying and stared at his torso. The little bit of light in the room gleamed across his skin, enhancing the shadows of his abs and pecs. He loomed in front of her, his size and strength rendering her offer to be his champion utterly ridiculous.

“It’s usually me saying stuff like that,” he said. All the tension had drained from his voice. “You make it all seem easy to handle.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “One thing at a time, right?”

“Right.” He raised his hand to her chin and slowly leaned forward to press a soft, warm kiss on her mouth. “Thank you.”

Riley drew a deep breath and eased away to go back to her own bed. As they both settled and said goodnight, she relaxed her mind and body. As soon as she did, Sam’s buzz tickled her awareness at the same intensity it had been before.

She found it surprisingly comforting.

…

The next morning they all piled into the Charger with bags of breakfast to go, Nick at the wheel. Riley pouted a little out the rear window when they drove away from her Beetle. It had gotten her through so much, and leaving it here, however temporarily, felt like a betrayal of the reliable little car.

After hours of hard driving, Riley talked Nick into a pit stop at the rest area on I-75 in Tennessee. She followed Quinn to the ladies room. The other woman had kept her expression overly steady and movements deliberately smooth as she got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk. Riley had a feeling it was taking Quinn a great deal of effort to hold it together and keep the guys from worrying. Nick was already almost as stressed as Quinn was sick.

She waited a couple of beats before pushing through the main bathroom door. Quinn was already in a stall, retching.

They had to do something. They weren’t even halfway to Rhode Island. Nick was riding the accelerator hard and had even let Sam drive for a few hours so Nick could rest without stopping—something he clearly didn’t like to do. But they still weren’t moving fast enough.

Riley leaned against the wall, watching Quinn’s unmoving feet under the stall door. She shouldn’t have let Quinn heal her burns this morning, dammit. Quinn had assured her it was a simple action, not enough to even make her blink. That might have been true before, but now Riley was afraid it was making her worse.

Quinn coughed and drew in an audibly deep breath. The toilet flushed, and her feet turned to face the door. Riley moved closer, ready to help when the door latch rattled. The door opened, and Riley caught Quinn before she fell flat on her face.

“Crap,” Quinn said, using Riley to balance herself. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get you back outside,” Riley said. “It smells like hell in here.” She wrapped her arm around Quinn’s waist and propped her up while she washed her hands and splashed her face. Figuring Quinn could use a few minutes before she had to fake strength again, Riley steered her out to the picnic area in the rear of the building. The night air was cool and carried voices and engine rumblings from the parking lot out front. The only other person in the back was an older man, smoking while he walked a Yorkie in the pet area. Floodlights cast odd shadows around them.

“The guys will worry,” Quinn murmured. She leaned against a warped green picnic table, no longer bothering to hide her weakness.

“They’ll be fine. We’re supposed to take forever in the bathroom, right?” She helped Quinn sit. She needed food. “Be right back.” She hurried back to the vending alcove and bought a cola and bag of cookies.

They sat in silence for five minutes while Quinn ate. “Thank you,” she said to Riley when she’d emptied the cookie bag. “I didn’t even know I needed that. But now the shakes are gone, and my stomach is settled.”

Riley shrugged. “You looked like my hypoglycemic friend when her blood sugar tanked. Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

“You were right.” Quinn sighed. “We’d better get going before I crash again.”

“They’ll wait a few more minutes.” She didn’t know how much Quinn had told the guys, but the last few hours had made clear she was hiding how bad she continued to feel. Riley had a plan, but first she had to convince Quinn, then the guys. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Quinn sighed again and drank some of her soda. “I’m not sure I even know.” She picked at a section of peeling paint on the tabletop. “When I first pulled all this energy, all this power, from Anson, I could control it. But ever since we transferred Jennifer’s back to her, the rest has been…excited.” She waved her hand in circles up and down her body. “It never settles, just keeps whirling and churning. Sometimes it feels like it swarms out to my fingertips and toes, tugging. Trying to get home or something.”