Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select) (16 page)

“That’s kind of how I feel when I’m at peak power and seek presences,” Quinn said. “Like the showdown at Marley’s when Anson attacked us? When we had to know where people were and if any of them had ability? I was trying to detect the leech and the people he’d hired,” she explained to Riley. “It’s not a skill I need to use often.”

“Do all goddesses have it?” she asked Quinn.

“Most, to some degree. Can you sense me or Nick?”

Riley closed her eyes and relaxed her brain, made her concentration diffuse…and there it was. She’d been so worried about what Sam’s buzz meant, she hadn’t even tried.

For Nick, it wasn’t much more than an awareness of his presence, but Quinn’s was stronger, warmer. Riley spread her attention across the room. She pinpointed where she thought people would be, and when she opened her eyes, she was right.

“Wow.” It seemed inappropriate to beam, but she was excited at discovering a new facet to her abilities. “That’s amazing. I can sense everyone, and they’re all different. People, goddesses, and—” She cleared her throat and looked down at her plate.

“Any prickles here similar to what you felt in Atlanta?” Nick asked.

Riley shook her head but avoided his gaze. She didn’t know why Sam felt the same as Anson, but it didn’t seem like it would be a good thing. “No one feels like the men in suits did.”

But Nick seemed to recognize her evasion. “Can you sense Sammy here? Is he different from me?”

She glanced up at Sam, who was watching her. His brown eyes were darker than normal, a hint of excitement or anxiety—or both—disturbing the overall calm. It was the first time since they rescued her that he’d looked at her so directly, and desire made her tremble.

He smiled a little. “It’s okay,” he encouraged.

“Yes,” she admitted. “The same kind of buzzy feeling I get with Anson, but not the same as the other men.”

“So those three might actually be modern-day gods,” Quinn said with a matter-of-factness Riley couldn’t help but admire. “Watered-down descendants of the ancients like us.”

“But why are Sam and Anson so different?” Riley didn’t like anything connecting the two men, but Quinn didn’t seem concerned.

“They’re both sons of goddesses, so they’re unique.” She ate her last bites of asparagus and contemplated her steak, as if uncertain if she could finish it or not. “And when I drained Anson, I knew there’d be a bit of residue.”

“Enough for him to sense the energy,” Sam said in a low voice. “But not tap into it.”

Riley gasped. “Does that mean you’ve done it? You returned power to one of the goddesses?”

Sam nodded. “And now there’s a residue in me, from being a filter.”

“I knew it.” Nick stabbed an accusing finger at Sam. “When you hauled ass out of the motel earlier—you didn’t just slam the door. There was energy behind it.”

“I was upset!” Sam protested.

“Keep your voices down.” Quinn leaned over the table. “That’s more than we expected, Sam. You can actually use it? Not just feel it?”

His jaw was set, and he didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. “Apparently.”

“What about now?” she asked.

He nodded shortly.

“There’s no river near here,” Nick pointed out.

“I know.”

“And you still feel it?”

“Yes.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed on Sam. “It’s a good thing Riley got herself out of Millinger, isn’t it? You’d have used it on Tournado in a heartbeat.”

Sam’s jaw tensed even more. He held his beer bottle so tightly the label slid and wrinkled. “I’d have done what I needed to do to defend the people I care about.”

Riley blushed and looked down, fussing with her napkin, but the others didn’t pay any attention to the implication.

“You’d also have shown him that you have power!” Nick growled. “What do you think would stop him from coming after you if he found out?”

Sam fidgeted. He looked at Quinn’s sympathetic expression, at Riley, and back at Nick. Then he let go of his beer bottle and rubbed his face with both hands. “You’re right. But obviously, it’s irrelevant right now.” He slumped against the booth. “What are we going to do with all this?”

Quinn cut into the last bit of her filet. “If there are gods, it needs investigating. We have to find out what Jeannine and John know already.”

“They won’t talk over the phone,” Sam said. “And neither should we. If Riley’s right and these guys are powerful people in government and business, they could easily be monitoring phone lines.”

Quinn sighed. “They’ve been watching Anson, right?”

“Right,” Nick and Sam said together.

“Let’s assume they know at least as much as we do. We’ll talk to them when we can. But now that we’ve started, we have to keep going with the transfers. I can’t—we can’t just stop with the way things are.”

Nick nodded. None of them looked happy about leaving this all up to the Society. Riley felt a lot more comfortable with the organization after spending a couple of days there, but she’d also heard enough to understand why they’d feel that way. She also suspected that if Quinn was admitting she had to keep moving with the transfers, things were way more serious than they seemed.

She suddenly remembered what else she’d heard.

“Nick, did you know John wants you to take over for him?”

The simple question had the effect of a time bomb coming to life on their table. Everyone froze.

When Nick didn’t answer, Quinn turned on him. “
Did
you know?”

“No!” He snatched a french fry off his plate and tossed it in his mouth. “I didn’t,” he insisted at Quinn’s skepticism. “I’d tell you right away if I knew for sure.”

“
For sure
,” she pounced. “So you knew, even if you haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Does it matter? I’m not taking the job.”

Quinn rested her hand on her forehead. “Nick.”

“Are you all right?” He scooted closer and put his arm around her. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened and glared. “You’re what’s wrong, you idiot! They assigned you to me permanently, didn’t they? And you’re miserable! You want this job.”

Oh, boy. Riley didn’t even bother to excuse herself, just moved to slide out of the booth. Sam immediately stood, and in silent agreement, they went outside into the steamy night.

“Yikes. I opened up a can of worms, didn’t I?” Riley walked along the sidewalk to a bench set out for overflow during peak hours. Once there, though, she realized she didn’t want to sit and kept going. Sam kept pace with her, his long legs swinging in a slow stride.

“Looks like. Quinn’s probably right about them assigning Nick to her. He’s not the kind of guy to drop out of the Protectorate permanently. And Barbara, the last president, was pretty concerned about Quinn having all that power.”

“So he’s supposed to be protection
against
her, too?”

He grimaced. “Not exactly. Well, probably from the board’s point of view. But he’s been worried about her. And they were apart for fifteen years, one of those want-but-can’t-have situations, so he wouldn’t have left her, anyway. They’d have found some kind of compromise.”

Riley nodded. “Now…about leaving this gods thing to the Society…”

“I know.”

She stopped and looked up at him. “You know what?”

“Jeannine isn’t the best person to deal with this. Not that we’re better equipped. The repercussions are too vast. And there are way too many open questions.”

“Right. Like how many are there? How widespread? How powerful? What
kind
of power do they have? The guys Anson’s working for are obviously shady, to put it mildly, but are there good ones, too? Like, I don’t know, Bill Gates? The President?” She stopped when she realized Sam was smiling at her almost indulgently. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I’m not part of this. Of the Society.” Except she was. She might be new, but she belonged to the Society as much as Quinn or any other goddess now.

But Sam, Nick, and Quinn…they were a team, with a history of working together, and that made her feel like an outsider. She also knew they weren’t the kind of people to stay out of something like this, especially after their history with Anson.

“You’re dead right,” Sam said. “I’m itching to research them—and more. I want to know how much of a threat they are, or if an alliance can be built. But honestly, Riley, the transfers have to be a priority right now. We’ve set it in motion and I don’t know what would happen if we don’t see it through quickly.”

She nodded, her heart sinking. The last thing she wanted was to leave Sam again, but she couldn’t get in the way of what they were doing. “I can start driving back tomorrow. Marley said she’d put me up as long—”

“Are you crazy?” Sam interrupted. “You’re not going back to Boston.”

“But—”

“You’re staying with me. With us. Anson’s still after you, and frankly…” He looked up and away, out across the parking lot. “Uh, I could use a friend right now.”

Riley could tell that was a tough admission for him. She slipped her hand into his, relieved when he entwined their fingers. “Nick and Quinn are your friends.”

He shook his head. “There are things I can’t talk to them about.”

“You mean the power residue.” She walked them back to the bench and sat.

“Yeah.” He blew out a breath full of relief. “What we’re doing…it’s similar to how a leech is made. I knew about the risks, and I don’t regret taking them, but I never counted on feeling this.” He pressed his fingertips to his chest. “I
crave
it. With only this tiny taste. And I’m not even near Jennifer’s power source. I’m scared about what will happen with Chloe, and the ocean being right there…”

His hand tightened on hers. The angle put pressure on Riley’s raw wrist, surprising her, but she managed to hold back the moan of pain. She’d moved carefully to avoid letting anyone see the damage to her skin, and especially now, she didn’t want any more of the attention. It was Sam’s turn.

“I know nothing about this, so I can’t reassure you that everything will be fine. But one thing I do know.” She shifted to look into his eyes. “You and Anson are completely different. You won’t abuse this.”

“I don’t intend to.” He sat lost in thought for several moments. Riley wasn’t sure what else to say.

Noise from inside the restaurant signaled the front door opening. Riley glanced over her shoulder and saw Nick and Quinn walking toward them, holding hands.

Quinn held out a square container to Riley when they got close enough. “I had them box your leftovers. Seemed too much to leave behind.”

“Thanks.” That meant they’d paid for her meal. She flushed. “I’ll pay you back. I have—” She stopped, acutely aware of how little she did have. “I’m sorry I walked out. I didn’t mean to stick you with the bill.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Nick moved a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

“It’s our treat,” Quinn assured her so matter-of-factly, Riley would have felt shrewish to argue.

“Thank you.”

Nick pointed with his toothpick. “There’s a hotel down the road. We’ll go get some rooms and drive to Chloe’s tomorrow.”

Riley winced as they walked to the cars. Her funds were low, but no way was she asking anyone for money. Quinn looked worn out. Nick would probably check them in and rush them up to their room. Maybe Riley could go to the restroom while Sam registered himself, then sneak back out to sleep in her Beetle.

But Sam stopped her before she unlocked her car door. “It’s not a good idea for you to room alone. I can’t protect you that way.”

She smiled despite her embarrassment and worry. “So you’re my protector now?”

“You obviously need one. So, yeah.” His mouth quirked up on one side. “If I promise to behave myself, will you share a room with me? I’d normally suggest you room with Quinn, and Nick and I could share an adjoining room, but…”

“Yeah, no way he’s letting her out of his sight. That’s obvious.”

Nick’s window squeaked as he rolled it down. “Get your asses in the car!”

“We’ll split the cost of the room, okay? That should help both of us, too.”

It hadn’t occurred to Riley that Sam might not have much money, either, despite the crappy bar he’d worked in and the fact that he drove a used Saturn against his will. But she wondered if his reasons could be excuses, and hoped they were.

Chapter Eleven

Recent surveys have indicated that sexuality may be complicated by power use, as well as connection to or distance from power sources. This is a private and personal aspect of most people’s daily lives. However, the Society has made counseling available should any goddess or her partner feel a need to work through any issues that arise.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense
, monthly newsletter

Sam stood in the middle of the tiny hotel room, listening to the shower hiss on the other side of the bathroom door. He was worn out, yet charged by the low hum of energy from the transfer. He suspected that energy was boosting his awareness of Riley, too. Dinner had been mild torture, starting with the full-body hug when she’d first gotten out of the car. Her warm-honey scent had soaked into him through dinner. Whenever he spared her a glance, all he could see was glistening lips and smooth, graceful hands.

And now she was in the shower. Naked. Tilting her head back to let the water soak her hair. Raising her arms to run her hands over it, lifting her breasts. Nipples stiff from the spray…

He jumped when a triple knock sounded on the room’s gray-painted steel connecting door. His body went hot from embarrassment. Jesus. He swiped a hand down his face and hoped the lust didn’t show when he opened the door a crack.

Quinn stood there, a blanket around her shoulders. “Hey. You okay?”

“Fine. Are you?”

She waved off his concern. “Yeah, just chilly. How are Riley’s wrists? Does she need me to take a look at them?”

Sam frowned, not getting what she meant.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Her wrists. She was very careful not to put pressure on her lower arms while we ate dinner. She didn’t touch the table with them at all and had trouble cutting her meat. She winced a few times, too. You didn’t notice?”

He hadn’t. He’d been so wrapped up in everything they were talking about and his own issues.

He was such an asshole.

“She’s in the shower,” he told Quinn. “I’ll check on her.” He probably shouldn’t go barging in. A full-body image popped into his head again, and he ground his teeth. Why the hell had he thought it was a good idea to share a room?

“Can I come in?” Quinn didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed the door open and slipped past him. When he turned around, she’d already sat in the desk chair and propped her feet up on the foot of one of the double beds. “Not a bad place, huh?”

Besides the hideous maroon, gold, and brown pattern swirling across the polyester bedspreads and curtains, the chipped pressboard furniture, and the crack across the bottom of the bathroom mirror? Sure. The carpet didn’t crunch when he walked on it, he hadn’t found evidence of bedbugs, and the bathroom was free of mold.

Sam shrugged and sat on the second bed. “Better than some of the places we’ve stayed in. I’m sure Nick’s seen much worse.” Nick used to spend all his time on the road, and whenever Sam complained about a crappy motel during the weeks they’d chased after Anson, he’d called Sam a diva.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her. “And tell the truth. I can see it’s not good.” She’d seemed to rally after the last stop they’d made for her to sleep a little, and the food had given her more energy. But she looked wan and pale now, and moved even more gingerly than before.

“I pulled the energy apart, and it isn’t very happy.” She twisted and stretched with a grimace.

“You talk like it’s sentient,” Sam accused. “Is it?”

But Quinn waved a dismissive hand. “I’m anthropomorphizing. It’s just energy. No sentience or emotion.”

“But.”

“It won’t stop churning. It’s like when you drink too much coffee and get all hyper, but it’s deeper than that. It’s making me nauseous. Like I have the flu.” She gave a chuckle that turned into a cough, and checked her hand not surreptitiously enough. She realized he’d caught her and shook her head. “No blood. And don’t worry, Nick is watching me hard enough for all of you.”

“He knows all this?” He felt a little better when she nodded.

“If we finish this,” he asked, “give Tanda and Chloe their powers back, will it settle?”

“I think so.”

Sam thought about Beth. Quinn couldn’t give her power back, and had said she couldn’t return Marley’s, either. So what would happen when they were all done, and that remaining bit warred with Quinn’s natural capacity?

He was too scared to ask her right now.

“So tell me about Riley.” Quinn folded her arms and slid down in her seat to rest her head on the back of it. She looked tired but not as ill as she had earlier.

“You know about Riley.”

Quinn snorted. “I want to know about
your
Riley. You like her.”

“She’s likeable.” He tried not to fidget under her stare, but his fortitude crumbled in seconds. “I was trying not to.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “She’s young.” Of course Quinn laughed, and even he had to smile. “Younger than I was,” he tried, but he couldn’t keep it up. “Okay, the age doesn’t matter.”

“Not unless you want to be a hypocrite.” She bounced her knee to rock the chair. “I talked to Marley about her. She’s tough. Riley, I mean. Pretty strong considering all she’s been through.”

“Yeah.” He told Quinn about the night they’d met and everything that had happened since. “I think she’s still not sure who to trust, especially anyone tied to the Society.”

Quinn grinned. “And yet she followed you there, and you’re the first person she called when she was in trouble again.”

“Well, I convinced her to give them a chance. That’s all.”

“Nick would say it’s your puppy-dog eyes, but I know it’s more than that.” Her eyes twinkled, and she briefly looked less tired. “The attraction’s not one-sided.”

Hell, no, not according to the way she’d kissed him back in Boston. But things had changed with the first transfer. Sam didn’t think it was fair to let things deepen with Riley when he had no idea what he was in for, but he wasn’t having any luck resisting the attraction, either. Riley had been in the shower a long time now, and he didn’t want her to overhear them talking about her. “Maybe. But it’s complicated,” he warned. “The last time I fell for someone I thought needed me was a disaster.”

“That’s harsh.” Quinn pushed to her feet. “It’s okay to take it slow. But don’t lose out on something great because you’re overcautious.” She winked at him as she disappeared through the connecting door. The bolt clicked just as the shower turned off.

He dug a first aid kit out of his bag and laid it on the desk. A few minutes later, Riley emerged from the bathroom fully dressed. She played with her towel as if planning to fold it, but kept it positioned so Sam couldn’t see her arms.

Not that he looked that hard. The steam rolling out of the bathroom behind her caused the thin, gray tank top to cling to her upper body, while the soft, well-worn cutoff sweats hugged her hips and ass. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, her breasts so round and perfect Sam’s mouth went drier than sand. A bolt of lust gave him the hard-on he’d been fighting since they’d hugged.

The lust had a hard edge to it this time. A craving hunger too close to what he’d felt during the power transfer. He swallowed and stood, his feet taking him across the room, his hands tingling.

Riley glanced at him from the corner of her eye and turned away to hang the towel on the bar. “I’m beat,” she said. “I’m gonna hit the hay, if—hey!” She spun toward Sam when he grabbed her hands and twisted her arms up.

The haze of need vanished when he saw the red, raw rings on her skin. They were much worse than he’d assumed. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you say something?”

Riley shrugged. “There were more important things going on. They didn’t bother me much.”

“Bullshit. These have to hurt like a son of a bitch. I can’t believe you acted like nothing was wrong.” He pulled her across the room and pushed her down to the bed while he sat in the chair. “What the hell happened?”

Riley sighed and pulled her legs up under her, resting her elbows on her knees so her forearms hung in open space. Sam looked more closely at the stripes twisting around her delicate skin. Some of it was merely red, some glistening with blood in a dashed pattern carved—no, burned through the first couple of layers of skin. “Were you
chained?
” He looked up at her, aghast. “Did Anson chain you?”

“No! I told you, he let me go without trying to stop me. I did the chaining.”

Sam released her hands and unscrewed the cap on a tube of antiseptic cream. “What are you talking about?” He carefully dabbed ointment on the raw wounds while Riley explained about needing constant contact with metal to draw on while she was at Millinger.

“I’ve never held contact and drawn energy for that long. Not even before I knew what I was doing. I’m not sure if it was the constant draw that was the problem, or if I just pulled too much at once, or a combination of the two. Once it seared the skin, any time I tapped energy, it hurt.” She rotated her arms to give him better access. “No one told me doing this could damage me.” She sounded resentful, and Sam couldn’t blame her.

“No one knew,” he said apologetically. “Remember, we don’t have a lot of goddesses who use it.”

Riley winced and shifted her arms again. “So…other sources don’t give this kind of backlash?”

“Not that I’ve heard. But any energy can generate heat, and metal is a conductor.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Especially the kind I wrapped around myself. And I thought I was being so smart.”

“You were.” He stroked carefully, barely touching the wounds, but his fingers brushed undamaged skin and Riley hissed in a breath. When he looked up, she was biting her lip.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She met his eyes, and instead of the pain he expected to find in them, he saw desire.

His lust spiked again. His cock filled, twisting uncomfortably under the fly of his jeans. He ignored it—or tried to. Somehow, he managed to operate on two levels. In his head, he kissed her and pressed her back onto the bed, covering her body with his. She wrapped her luscious legs around his hips, and he buried his face in her breasts. His nostrils filled with the scent of soap, and he could feel the pebble of her nipple on his tongue.

In reality, he wrapped gauze around her wrists, smoothing it with just the pads of his fingers so he didn’t touch her skin and risk hurting her more. He peeled off strips of tape to secure the gauze and popped a couple of analgesics from a blister pack to help her with the pain.

“Quinn could heal these,” he offered at one point, but Riley shook her head.

“She’s probably sleeping and looked like she needed it. I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

Her voice had gone husky, low, and it dragged through Sam, driving his need higher. His pulse throbbed in his neck, his ears, his groin. He had to have her.
Had
to.

His hands shook as he collected wrappers and bits of trash and dropped them into the tiny can next to the desk. Heavy breathing rasped, and he was appalled to realize it was his.

“Sam,” Riley whispered, and God help him, he turned to face her again instead of getting up and locking himself in the bathroom like he should have.

“What?” he managed to say, but it was thick and guttural instead of the impersonal tone he was going for. Riley tilted her head back and met his gaze, her eyes dark with need.

No, dammit, they were dark with pain. He’d irritated raw skin.
He
was the one with need blazing in his expression, judging by the way Riley…
Oh, God.

She leaned forward, mouth open and glistening, tongue sweeping quickly over her top lip. Long lashes came down over those burning hazel eyes. Her hands tugged his knees, and the chair rolled an inch closer. The last rationally operating cell in Sam’s brain said, “Dude, she wants you.”

So he took her.

He slid his hands under her hair to cradle her skull and kissed the hell out of her. No gentle lead-in, no tasting or tentative moment to let her get away if she wanted to. He
devoured
her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, moaning at the taste of her, at the smell of sex that filled the air. She wrapped her arms around him and dug her fingers into his shoulder blades, arching her body against his torso. Her tongue met his stroke for stroke, and her own breathy moans made him shudder with need.

He spread his legs wide and rolled closer, leaning forward and running his hands down Riley’s back, slipping one into the shoulder opening of the tank top so he could touch her skin. He knew she wasn’t wearing a bra, but
feeling
it, that she was completely unhindered, fed his hunger.

And then his fantasy became reality. He covered Riley on the bed, grunting with satisfaction when she tightened her thighs around his hips. Her body writhing under him, he sucked on her neck, nibbled her collarbone, and buried his face between her spectacular breasts. She gasped and clutched his head, arching her back. He accepted the invitation and closed his mouth over her nipple. She convulsed, and the pressure of his zipper on his cock became unbearable. He had to get free, had to take her, to fill her, to fill
himself
, to—

He didn’t know what triggered it—maybe when he twisted to reach for his belt buckle, he caught sight of the moon outside the window—but sanity returned like a punch in the gut.

This wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal. He could
hurt
her.

The chair got in his way when he reared back and scrambled off the bed. He tripped and fell against the desk, panting, staring in shock at Riley, who looked confused and fucking delicious sprawled across the bed like that.

“I’m sorry,” he ground out before she could say anything. “I’m so sorry.”

And he bolted.