Strength (Mark of Nexus #1) (26 page)

“Oh yeah?” She sounded more than a little preoccupied. “What’d you get into?”

“I, uh…” I searched for a neutral place to sit. All I needed was another awkward moment with Wallace. He was still upstairs, discussing God only knew what with Cole. Wouldn’t waiting in bed seem like an invitation?

“I’m just spending the night at a friend’s house,” I explained, tugging at my nightgown in an effort to stay cool. “I wasn’t feeling up to the long drive back tonight. That’s all.” Not a total lie.

“Uh huh.” She giggled, distracted by a murmur in the background. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go then.”

Glad I hadn’t counted on her to rescue me. “All right. See you tomorrow.”

“Later!” she chirped and hung up. My best friend. My lifeline. Gone.

“Bleh.” I ended the call and looked around for somewhere to stash my things. Sharing Wallace’s space felt intrusive, like I was trying to Photoshop myself into his photos or something. Maybe I could just use the dresser.

I set everything on top and straightened the pile to obsessive perfection.
Phone, credit card, lip gloss, and driver’s license. Check, check, and check. Now what?

I retreated to the middle of the room, eyeing the staircase for any sign of his approach. What was I supposed to do when he came down, anyway? Apologize? Make plans for the morning? Compliment his Mario Lemieux poster?

Wait.
Mario Lemieux? I cocked my head to the side, staring at the far wall.
Wallace likes hockey?

“How’d I know that would catch your interest?” His voice carried around the corner as he trotted down the last few steps. I hadn’t even heard the door close. “That poster is probably glued to the wall, it’s been there so long.”

I turned to face him, raising my eyebrows. “Pens fan?”

“I guess. Not so much these days.” He crossed the room and fell onto one of the beds. “Grandpa took us to a few games when we were kids.”

“I caught a couple of Pittsburgh games before Columbus had a team,” I admitted, giving the other bed a long stare. I didn’t have the luxury of flopping down like he did. Not without risk of panty flashing. “Have you been to any Jackets games in town?”

“No, I can’t really be out around that time.” Lines creased his forehead, and he looked away. He must’ve been referring to the headaches. “Anyway, do you sleep with a light on or…?”

“No, I don’t need anything,” I lied. Actually, I wanted to sleep in the brightest room in the house, barricaded in the corner, but he didn’t need to know that.

He rubbed at his jaw. “Well, I…” He got up and looked around with a tight expression. “I need to sleep with the TV on,” he announced after a moment’s deliberation, pointing a remote at the small set in the corner. “Will that bother you?”

I shook my head.

He pressed the power button and strode across the room to get the light. With the flick of a switch, everything plunged into darkness fought back by the TV’s flickering glow. Flashes traced his outline as he returned to bed and pulled back the covers.

My lips curled into a smile as I turned away.
That liar.
I’d slept in his dorm room before, and he hadn’t said anything about needing a TV on. He was trying to make me feel comfortable.

I crawled under the bedspread and pulled it up to my chin. The heat was sweltering, but I welcomed the barrier. It’d make this easier.

I turned to face him, shifting around until I got comfortable. “Hey...”

The light played over his muscular form as he rolled to the side and propped himself up on one arm. “What?”

“About earlier…” I nipped my bottom lip, wishing I’d planned out what I was going to say beforehand.

“Yeah, actually, I was going to say something to you about that,” he began, clearing his throat. “It’s not…uh, uncommon for someone to behave strangely after a traumatic event. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed or anything.”

“What?” I sat up a bit more, leaning on my arm. Why the hell would I feel embarrassed? I wasn’t the one rocking a massive boner afterward.

He looked up toward the window. “I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve realized I was just mirroring your arousal on some subconscious level. I let it go too far.”

His words twisted like a blade between my ribs, releasing the insecurities I’d stored there. What was this? His way of trying to spare my feelings? Stupid, irrational tears stung my eyes, and I clenched my fist.

“I think you read too much into it,” I said in a shaky voice. “The only thing I felt for you was pity. Pity for you and your freakish inability to control yourself.”

Another stab.

The room fell silent, aside from the incoherent hum of dialogue from the television.

“Oh.”

My heart clenched, and I realized I might’ve taken things a bit too far. “I didn’t mean—”

His voice was rough as he turned away from me, settling into bed. “Let’s just go to sleep, Rena.”

“Sorry,” I whispered, sinking into the pillow.
Damn it.
The night couldn’t get any worse.

But morning could.

I woke up drenched in sweat and gasping for air. It’d taken me forever to get to sleep and, once I finally did, I’d gone straight into a nightmarish recount of my capture. I clutched a hand to my chest, struggling to catch my breath. Guess I wasn’t as over it as I thought.

I squinted across the dimly lit room, jarred to find Wallace’s stormy gaze staring back at me. He was sitting up, his shoulders hunched forward.

“Is that how it really happened?” he asked. His voice was so thick with sleep, it sounded scary.

I burrowed further beneath the covers. “What?”

“That…whatever that was.” He slicked a hand over his unkempt hair, spiking it back. “I saw it.”

My heart gave a jolt. “What do you mean, you saw it? You shared my nightmare?”

“I guess,” he mumbled, pushing his bedspread back to kick his legs over the side. “First time it’s ever happened.”

“Oh.”

The fog began to lift, and I remembered the last words we’d exchanged before bed. My stomach bottomed out. “Listen, I didn’t—”

“Is that how it happened?” he repeated, standing up to stretch. He rubbed at his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose, like he was trying to wake himself up for something. It was still early. What was he doing?

“Well, yeah, but what does that…” I trailed off as he made for the stairs, giving a stiff nod. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He disappeared into the darkness, and I shot up, getting tangled in my own bedding.

“W-Wait!” I threw the comforter back against the bed. Something was wrong here.

I tore up the stairs and caught the door as it started to close. “Wallace,” I hissed, peering around the corner just in time to see him grab Cole by the collar and lift him from a dead sleep.

Cole’s eyes shot open, and he tried to pull away from his brother, but it was a wasted effort. His feet dangled a few inches off the ground as he flailed and grasped Wallace’s wrist. “What the hell, man?” He sounded half coherent, struggling against him. “Get off me!”

“Did you let Rena go, when she begged you?” Wallace’s jaw was set as he moved in front of the windows, casting their forms in silhouette. “I can’t believe you. I didn’t realize how far you had…” He shook his head and moved to the front door, twisting the knob with one hand. “You know what? Forget it. I can’t sleep under the same roof as you tonight.”

“What are you doing?” I stage whispered, inching forward as the door swung wide and he bumped the screen open.

“Go back downstairs, Rena.” Wallace stepped out onto the porch, and my heart caught between beats.
Oh God.
What was he doing?

I slipped outside behind them, shutting the doors as quietly as possible. Clara didn’t need to wake up to this mess, whatever it was. The poor woman had enough to deal with.

Cole shrugged and went lax, plastering on a smirk. “Hey, if this makes you feel better…”

“It does,” Wallace growled, pulling him out onto the sidewalk.

I shivered as a cold gust of wind ripped through my nightgown, and I trotted after them in bare feet.
Ick.
Wet sidewalk. “What are you going to do?” I asked, trying not to venture too close. “Anyone could see you. You could be—”

“I don’t care,” he snapped.

I blinked, taken aback by his tone.

“Now who’s the bad guy?” Cole’s dark gaze lifted in satisfaction, illuminated by the moon. “What’re you gonna do,
bro
?”

“Shut up!” Wallace threw him to the ground, and his skull met the concrete with a sickening crack.

“S-Shiiit…” Cole hissed, rolling over to clutch the back of his head. Crimson seeped between his fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut. “What the fuck, man? Have you lost your mind?”

My legs nearly gave out as little dots danced before my eyes. Was I dreaming?

Wallace stood over his twin’s crumpled form. “She will not be involved in this. Ever. Again. Do you understand what I’m saying? So help me, next time…” He clenched and unclenched a fist at his side. “I can’t even think about it.”

“Stop!” I cried, latching onto his arm. Fear tore through my system as I smashed the hard curve of his arm against my chest, holding tight with everything I had. “You’ll…” My eyes burned, and I looked down, pressing my forehead against him. I didn’t want to say the words,
You’ll kill him
. I didn’t want to acknowledge that he was even capable of it—that he’d killed before.

I had to think of something. Fast.

Chapter Thirty

“No one wants to hurt Cole more than I do, but this is just wrong,” I whispered against him, too scared to let go. “Please tell me this isn’t the real you I’m seeing.”

Wallace stiffened and, for a second, I was afraid I’d sent him off the deep end.

“It’s not,” he finally admitted, taking a deep breath. “Not anymore.”

Cole sprang up into a sitting position. “Well, now that that’s settled…”

Shock buckled my knees, and I clung to Wallace’s unflinching form. “...The hell?”

“What?” Cole stood up, holding the back of his head with one hand. “Oh, this?” He rolled his eyes back, gesturing toward the injury. “Flesh wound. I’ll live. Fast healer, remember?”

“But he…you…blood…” I stammered, staring at the slick red puddle on the ground.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right.” He pulled his hand away and glanced at it, shrugging. “I’ll go grab some bleach.” He started to walk away and then paused, turning back to Wallace. “Feel better?”

I looked up at Wallace as he took another breath, steeling his features. “Yeah.”

Cole grinned, and his image faded into a blur.

I heaved a sigh, and my breasts pressed against Wallace’s arm. “Shit.” I stumbled back to cover my chest. “Sorry.”

“You were really prepared to stop me, weren’t you?” he asked, unfazed.

I rubbed my arms as another wind swept past, tousling my hair. “Well, yeah, if I had to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” I batted a few strands away. “I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret, because of me.” I thought about it for a moment and added, “I guess I wasn’t ready to see Cole die yet, either.”
Unless it’s by a truck or something…

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, staring at the ground. “I just couldn’t get those images out of my head.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, whispering the last part to himself, “I almost lost it.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. “But you didn’t.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Cole appeared with a jug and a bucket. “You’re just a little overprotective of some things.” His gaze landed on me, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Gee, thanks,” I said. “How’s your embarrassing head trauma?”

“I don’t know. Look for me.” Cole bent and tilted his head down, giving me a clear view.

I shrieked and held my hands up to block the sticky red mess in his hair. “That’s disgusting!”

A porch light flipped on across the street, and my eyes widened. “Okay, as fun as this has been, I’m not sticking around to explain it to the police. You better clean your—”

“Already did.” He set the bucket on the sidewalk and held up a stained, wet sponge. In his other hand, he shook the jug for emphasis. “Now, if you’ll kindly escort your attack dog back to bed, I need to go run my head under the faucet. Some of us have to work in the morning.”

I wrinkled my nose and shot a quick glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, the sidewalk lacked the rustic tint it’d held before. “Well, here’s to hoping nobody lights up in front of the house,” I muttered.

Cole grinned.

I hurried up the front steps and wiped my feet on the mat. If we weren’t careful, we’d trigger the apocalypse, sharing pleasantries like that. It wasn’t natural.

Wallace and I made our way back to the basement in silence. The crisis, abrupt as it’d been, was over. That meant there was only one thing left to do.