Touched by Lightning Page 13

  The recruits who stayed inside to help watch over Gyda all looked up at him in surprise when he burst through the door. One of them, slightly older than the rest, jumped to his feet, ready to take direction from Brit, but he only barked out, “Where is she?”

  The kid lifted a hand and pointed at the hallway. “She went to the bathroom,” he whispered.

  Brit hauled ass through the living area, ricocheting into the hall. The doors to his and Gyda’s bedrooms were open, but the bathroom door was closed. Praying he was wrong, that she’d give him an outraged look, he lifted his foot and planted it on the door just beneath the lock. Wood splintered with a groan, the door bouncing open and closed again.

  But that brief glimpse into the bathroom told him Desta’s foresight and his suspicions weren’t wrong. The image of her planted in front of the sink, a broken piece of pottery in her hand and blood smeared on the skin of her arms would be forever etched on his brain. Nausea churned in his gut, gore rising in his throat at the sight of so much blood on her pale skin, but now wasn’t the time to lose his shit.

  Brit pushed open the door again and charged inside, knocking the shard of broken whatever it was out of her hand. She barely paid attention, her eyes heavy-lidded with something that looked a lot like pleasure, but he had to be wrong because she bled. She was bleeding all over the place. He gave her a gentle push to sit on the toilet and began to check her over. She’d taken her top off to perform her macabre ritual, her bra the only thing saving her modesty.

  “Murph,” he barked. “Get me a Medic. I want them here yesterday.”

  “Juliette isn’t ready for that kind of healing,” the big man informed him. “She still gets sick at the sight of blood.”

  Brit squeezed his eyes closed both in frustration and thanks. Her cuts were many, some of them a little deeper than he’d like to see, but nothing life-threatening. She was like a living doll in his hands, her body slack and pliable, her eyes glazed with the same pleasure he’d seen when he brought her to climax in the woods.

  “Brit, you still need a Medic?” Murphy asked when he was silent for so long.

  He reached for the first-aid kit he kept under the bathroom sink and muttered, “No, no Medic. I’ll clean her up.” He opened the box and began to unload the things he needed to fix her up. “Take the kids out for a while. Take them to a fucking movie or something.”

  There was a heavy silence behind him as though Murphy was weighing his words.

  “I won’t hurt her,” he spat as he began to dab at the cuts she’d made on her forearms, his stomach churning. “I won’t strangle her either, as much as I want to.”

  He continued gently cleaning Gyda’s wounds and listened as Murphy heaved a heavy sigh and stomped down the hall. The big man’s voice boomed as he gathered the recruits and a questioning Ted. A few minutes later came the sounds of doors closing on the vans, the engines starting and then the eventual fade as they drove back down the path away from the cabin.

  Brit sucked in a deep breath and turned her wrists over, not sure what he expected to see, but the unblemished skin was a godsend. He lowered his head even more, his body going slightly limp from relief and rested his forehead on her knees. He needed to finish cleaning her up, patch up her wounds and then raise seven kinds of hell at her for doing this to herself. But instead, he wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her even closer until the top of his head came into contact with her belly, his face planted in her thighs. It wasn’t sexual, it was his way of comforting himself, of keeping his hands from tossing her over his lap to spank her ass.

  It was a struggle to just hold her when he really wanted to scream at her for playing with fire. Dwayne’s image, cold and lifeless, the stench of blood and death surrounding him something he couldn’t wipe away. Not even with the fresh, clean scent of Gyda filling his sinuses. His body shuddered and shook from holding that pain and fear inside. Pain at the memory and fear that Gyda walked the same path, one that would take her from him before he could stop her.

  Then he recalled the blissful expression on her face, the peace and tranquility she received from hurting herself and felt a sharp pain of betrayal. Brit lifted his head, keeping his arms tight around her hips. She was looking down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with that strange afterglow.

  “Why?” he rasped into the silence of the bathroom. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Are you asking for help? What is it?”

  His words did little to drag her from the weird lethargy of her post-cutting session. She blinked at him slowly, her pupils wide. But she still didn’t attempt to defend herself, to even cover herself the way she normally would. She was flying high on the pleasure her cutting brought her. A pleasure Brit feared would lead her to becoming increasingly dangerous to herself, causing her to cut deeper, harder and more.

  He could see it so easily and even though he understood the cesspool that was her life, that wasn’t who she was. He firmly believed a person made of their life what they wanted to and she was wasting hers by living in the past. Then she gave him a little smile, a little sexy, loopy smile that told him just how much she was enjoying her buzz and he lost his ever-lovin’ mind.

  Brit wanted to shake her, to snap her the fuck out of this false pleasure she gave herself, but even in his fury he couldn’t hurt her or do anything that might cause her harm. So he kissed her. He gripped the back of her neck in one hand and pulled her down until their lips smashed together. Keeping his eyes open and on her slack face, he pressed harder, knowing he had to be bruising her but unable to help himself.

  It wasn’t the kind of kiss he’d wanted to give her. It wasn’t about sex, but about snapping her out of her daze, which is why he sent a bolt of electricity through their connections. Her eyelashes fluttered, some of the pleasure leaving her face. Except it still wasn’t enough. He did it again and again, sending her little jolts of his power to snap her awake.

  And it was only when he saw some of the cloudy pleasure leave her eyes that he pulled away from her. Her lips were dark and swollen from his rough kiss, her face flushed, but for once it didn’t turn him on. Because he couldn’t be sure if it was from his kiss or from her fucked-up affair with sharp objects.

  Brit stood and stepped away from her, his body humming with the fury and hurt and fear roiling through his veins. She didn’t move for the longest time, just stared at him with that confused expression on her face. Then she looked down at herself. Her arms snapped up to cover her chest and the confusion faded beneath a heated glare.

  “Sorry, babe,” he drawled as he leaned against the wall. “Bloody bodies don’t do much for me so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Color flooded her cheeks, but her stubborn chin angled up at him. She was daring him to say something about her favorite pastime and he was so ready for it.

  “So this is what you do, huh?” he asked with a wave of his hand, indicating the blood, the first-aid kit at her feet and the bloodied shard of pottery next to the tub. “You can’t deal with real life like an adult, so you go for this shit.”

  Her nostrils flared and something dark glittered in her eyes.

  His chest grew tighter, his eyes not even seeing her anymore, but Dwayne.

  “Yeah, I know your life was shit,” he rasped, the words straining to get past the lump in his throat. “People used you, hurt you, put no value on you so you don’t put value on yourself. And you hurt so much…” His voice faded out as he recalled his friend, the first casualty of power abuse he’d ever seen.

  Twenty-two years old when he joined up with the O.T., a skinny kid who’d killed himself because his powers made him the target of the dead and the living. Poor Dwayne had been a very rare medium, able to communicate with the dead, who tormented him endlessly. Then there’d been his family who wanted to use his abilities for their gain, beating him when he was a child to get him to agree to open himself to the spirits. It’d been an endless cycle and one that caused him to do like Gyda did and cut himself to relieve
some of the pressure he lived under.

  Brit tried so many times to understand what had thrown Dwayne over the edge, that he’d go from cutting to suicide, and maybe his friend hadn’t meant to go that far. Maybe the thrill of playing with death had grown too strong and he’d cut too deep. More than likely though, Dwayne had given up fighting his demons and gave in to the hurts he’d experienced as a child and the spirits wearing him down, because when Brit found his friend in their dorm room…

  He squeezed his eyes shut and let gravity take him to the ground, sliding down the wall until his ass hit the floor. It was too easy for him to see this beautiful woman colorless from lack of blood, her eyes with that glazed, peaceful look that only came from death. His soul ached for Gyda, the bond he felt for her—wanted to permanently form with her—demanded he watch over her, but he honestly didn’t know if he was strong enough to go through it again. To hope and pray someone he cared for wouldn’t decide today was the day they’d end it all.

  “You don’t fucking know what you’re playing with,” he told her in a harsh voice. “And you probably don’t care, but others do.” He opened his eyes and narrowed them at her, trying to get through to her. “You might not care what happens to you, you might not put value on yourself, but I do, Gyda. I do and each of those cuts kills me.”

  Gyda stared at him in silence, her brain trying to process everything from the kiss to the contempt in Brit’s voice to the pain on his face and the words he spoke. Words that reached deep inside her to touch something that wasn’t Tora or even the Gyda she was today. It reached in and grabbed hold of the girl she’d been before she became Sixteen. The girl who never believed she mattered because she’d been thrown away as a child.

  There was a part of her that honestly believed she’d brought her torment on herself. Maybe if she hadn’t been born different, a supe, her parents would’ve kept her. Or maybe if she’d been a good girl, she would’ve been in school and the master wouldn’t have gotten his dirty hands on her at all. If only she’d listened to Sister Agnes and believed in God and heaven and all the saints, she would’ve been spared her torment.

  Then there was the other part of her, the one who’d crawled out of that cage ready to bow to her next master. It told her Brit had to be lying. Because no one cared. People didn’t give a shit about each other unless there was something in it for them. Men told women they loved them all the time to get pussy. Women told men they loved them all the time for money or security. Parents lied to their kids, kids lied to their parents. It was universal. People were animals and their only allegiance was to themselves and their survival.

  Except Brit almost had her believing he gave a shit about her continued existence. As though it meant something to him and that’s what made her younger self awaken. The young Gyda had prayed for someone to see value in her, wanted it more than anything. She’d dreamed about finding someone to love her, of being a part of something important and big, something that would give meaning to her existence. Something she could point to and say, “See? I wasn’t a mistake. I was meant to be here because of this.” And she’d never found it. But that was what Brit was telling her now, that her life, her pain and future meant a lot to him.

  She stared at him in silence, unable to cling to a single thought in her head except one. He was hurting. For her. It pained him to see her bleeding. He’d always seemed so strong, even when he let her hand his ass to him, and seeing him this way was unfathomable. But there was no denying what he felt, because it pounded against her mental shields.

  Terror, pain and anger so powerful it sizzled in the air threatened to beat down her defenses. All of it coming from this man. Beneath it, though, was something she wasn’t sure she could trust. Oh she wanted to. Affection, clean and pure and heated, coated the other emotions wafting from him. The pain of her cuts was nothing compared to the ache she felt in her chest at the thought of holding even a sliver of this man’s affection.

  She held perfectly still, staring at him with wide eyes, terrified to trust in him, to believe he could actually care for her. And as she watched, his body lost its tension and he slumped against the wall, his head tilting back. It was a pose of exhaustion and defeat. Gyda didn’t like seeing him that way.

  To her, Brit was larger than life. A hero and someone who’d shown her more compassion and understanding than anyone ever had in her life. Which meant… He had to be telling the truth? He cared about her? And he thought she didn’t return those feelings.

  Do you? Sixteen asked in a mildly curious tone Gyda shied away from. She wasn’t ready to analyze her feelings. She had enough trouble trying to understand and get a handle on living among people who didn’t judge her. She wasn’t ready to think about developing affection for someone else.

  Despite all the shit we’ve done since we’ve met him, attacked him and his friends, trying to run away, showing him contempt, he hasn’t hurt us. Sixteen’s calm, even voice washed through Gyda’s busy mind like a cooling balm. And you like the way he makes you feel when he touches you. You care for him.

  Yes, yes she did. Gyda stared at him, slightly dumbfounded and amazed at him, at the beauty that was Britton Harper. He’d made her feel better, hadn’t used her for his own pleasure back in the woods. He stopped her from hurting herself because he thought she didn’t value herself. He really was a good man. It wasn’t wrong to care for him because he was an amazing person.

  Something that felt a lot like hope filled her, pulling her toward him. She slid off the toilet, her arms falling to her sides and eased to her knees right in front of him. Heat curled in her belly, a selfish reaction she couldn’t help. He was beautiful and powerful, a man who had the ability to hurt but instead chose to care for her, to be gentle with her, to give her pleasure.

  And she was going to return it.

  Chapter Ten

  He’d totally lost his shit in front of the one woman who needed him to keep his cool. Great going, he told himself with an inward groan. She was the one who needed help and yet he’d just gone all emo on her. Dwayne would’ve pissed himself laughing and all his sisters would run to mark the date as the day Big Brother Brit Lost It.

  He could handle this. He’d been through enough humiliating situations to handle one like this. Hell, he’d even gotten a facial to shut Joe up when she pouted because none of her male employees would get one. For months afterward he’d found slices of cucumbers and that green goop left on his desk as his fellow brothers mocked him. He’d handled that. He could handle this.

  But the soft brush of fingers through his hair caused his heart to trip. Air got caught somewhere between his chest and throat and he didn’t dare make a move to take more in. Not when Gyda was touching him of her own volition. When her fingers glided through the strands, her fingernails gently scraping his scalp, goose bumps erupted all over his body, quickly followed by a sudden wash of heat.

  His cock hardened as her sweet and spicy scent grew stronger. He didn’t need his eyes to know she’d moved closer. He could sense her, his power could sense her and reached for her. Gyda’s soft gasp had his eyes opening to see her kneeling in front of him. Brit suddenly wished he had the ability to paint or put into words what he really felt because she looked beautiful. No, more than beautiful.

  With her eyes open wide and dark with curious attraction, she appeared like some kind of innocent wakening from a spell. Thankful once again that none of his friends or family could hear his thoughts, Brit simply watched Gyda as she continued to stroke her hand through his hair. If she kept it up, he almost thought his leg might start shaking from happiness.

  But her questing fingers slid from his hair to his cheek, the soft tips skimming over his cheekbone. She sucked in a deep breath, which he echoed because the instant she touched skin to skin, his power leapt into her and bounced back again. He’d thought it before, but he knew it for certain now. Together he and Gyda were an open current, able to pass his power back and forth without harming either of them.

 
And if he’d needed more proof that she belonged to him, she didn’t jerk away from him or his electricity. A sweet, hot look sparked in her green eyes, chasing some of that innocent wonderment away. Now she was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. Fuck him, but it was sexy.

  Gyda’s questing fingers trailed across his lips, leaving a wave of fire behind. Unable to help himself, caught up in the spell she’d cast without even meaning to, Brit opened his mouth and captured her index finger between his lips, laving the tip the way he wanted to taste her nipples, her clit. She drew in another shaky breath, her gaze dipping down to stare at his mouth where he lapped at her fingers. She licked her lips as though she could taste his kiss.

  Somehow she was parting his legs to make room for her to wiggle between them, fitting herself against his chest, her mouth only a hairsbreadth from his, her soft pants wafting across his lips. He could feel the hard points of her nipples pressing into his skin through her bra and it took everything he had not to tear the offending fabric away. He’d dreamed of those breasts of hers, of tasting them, of burying his face between her legs and tasting her sweet pussy.

  His cock throbbed behind the fly of his pants, an iron bar of want she had to feel since she was plastered to the front of his body. But she didn’t move, didn’t shy away. She stared at his mouth as though it held all the secrets in the world. Her body softened against him as her head lowered, her lips moving by slow increments until Brit was nearly shaking from holding himself still.

  Then Gyda was kissing him, her soft lips gently dragging against his. She didn’t go at him aggressively and he hadn’t expected her to, but wasn’t prepared for the power in the tender caress. His mouth went slack at the sweetness of her giving him this little bit of trust. She paused when his lips parted and he opened his eyes to see her staring at him with uncertain yet hungry eyes. When he made no move to deepen the kiss, to take over, a spark of excitement lit her face. And she teased the moist seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue.