Sparked (33 page)

“Thank you,” he said, kissing her again. “Thank you. I’ll start making arrangements first thing tomorrow.”

Clayton held her tight until she stopped trembling. Finally, when she had calmed a bit more, Cora spoke. “It’s getting late. I suppose we should head back.”

Clayton’s gaze wandered out to the lake, where his boat was floating, unmoored. He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Are you prepared for a bit of a swim?” he asked.

“Oh!” she said, then laughed and flicked her fingers, sending a gentler wave this time to bring the boat back. It made a perfect landing at the dock, gliding to a stop before it hit the weathered wood planks.

Clayton helped Cora board and started the boat when she was settled, cruising into the pristine waters. But he hadn’t made it even halfway back to shore when Cora’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Clayton!”

Clayton snapped his head to look at her. “What?” 

“You did it,” she said in awe. “I didn’t even realize. Your powers, Clayton. You didn’t lose control.”

Clayton smiled. “Yes.” He hadn’t wanted to say anything until he was absolutely sure, but she had seen it herself. And he felt in his heart that she was right. He slowed the boat to a stop so he could look at her.

“You did it,” she said again. “You controlled it.”

Her eyes were glistening, and there was a catch in her voice. It seemed to reflect the flood of emotion pouring into his own heart. A million words crossed his mind to say to her, but nothing seemed right. They both knew what this meant.

Her chest was rising and falling in time with her breath and he couldn’t resist anymore. Was there even a reason to resist? He hoped with everything inside him they were both right.

His lips were on hers in half of a heartbeat. The kiss was so intense—so pleasurable—that it felt like he might actually drown in it. All the restraint of the past several days fell away. All the fear and the worry and the pain disappeared. He let the boat drift and sank into the seat to hold her closer. With her in his arms again, things seemed to right themselves in his heart.

And she wasn’t just in his arms—she was in his lap. Somehow he had pulled her there, crushing her to him in the most satisfying embrace he had ever felt. God, how he’d missed the feel of her. He allowed his hands to explore her—to slide down the smooth curve of her back, to circle her small waist, to glide along the soft skin on her neck. 

She winced when his lips brushed her jaw, and he felt the anger surge up in him again. How dare someone hurt her, cause her even a second of fear or pain? He started to pull away from her, worried that he would lose control of his power, but she took his face firmly in her hands. 

“The only way you can hurt me is if you stop,” she whispered, then pressed her mouth to his.

His anger drowned in a wash of desire. Their tongues dueled until she dropped her head back, silently inviting him to return his lips to her throat.

He kissed her there, sucking her flesh so hard he knew he had to stop before he left a mark. He hadn’t done that to a girl since he’d been a teenager. Being with Cora made him feel overrun by desire. Every sensation was new and bold and overpowering. And while he wanted desperately to devour her, he wouldn’t be like Butch; he wouldn’t mar the smooth alabaster of her skin. He was a man in control. 

He knew he wouldn’t restrain himself at all this time. He would have every part of her, and he would have her now.

He remembered the sweater, the buttons pulling there against the soft arc of her breasts. He allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy he’d had earlier. He leaned her back and slid a hot hand under the sweater, caressing her smooth stomach and fanning between her breasts until she arched her back into his other hand. Then he lowered his mouth to the buttons and ripped the damn things off with his teeth.

The sweater popped open, freeing her breasts into the open air. They were still covered in her brassiere, but a quick twitch of his fingers at her back remedied that. His mouth was on her again, sucking her nipples into his mouth—nipping them with his teeth until they grew hard.

“Yes, Clay. Yes,” she moaned.

He was hard too. He ached for her. He ached for her in a way that he had never felt before he had met her. His desire was stronger now that he knew what waited for him, stronger after he had tasted her, not less. 

He wouldn’t deny himself any longer. He moved a hand up her silky thigh and felt himself harden even more in response to the heat he could feel there, the wanting. She was slick and ready for him, as ready as he was for her.

He toppled her onto the floor of the boat. There was barely any room to maneuver, and he struggled to remove his pants while she panted and writhed. He nearly tossed the pants overboard, he was so excited to be rid of them, until he remembered the condom he had tucked into his wallet after the last time they were together. When he finally had it on, he covered her again, pushing her skirt over her hips and spreading her with his knee. He took one moment to appreciate how she looked in the moonlight, with her hair tumbling over the deck and her clothes half-ripped away. Then he surged into her. She opened for him with a deep moan, her soft entrance parting then quickly tightening around him.

“God damn, Cora,” he said. “God damn.”

He crashed into her fast and hard, unable to stop diving into her again and again and again. He’d been denied her exquisite body for too long and now felt overcome to consume her all at once—like a man wandering in the desert who had just been given his first taste of water.

He could hear that it was what she needed too. She cried out with every thrust. She bucked under him, pressing her hips to meet his drive and sink him even deeper inside of her.

They were primitive, needy, careless of dignity as they let themselves take and take and take from each other. All at once, he felt her come undone. She tightened around him in wicked spasms as she cried out and dug her fingernails into his back. 

And God, he buckled. The sensation of her was too intense to hold out any longer. The wave crashed over him too. He climaxed so hard that he thought for a moment he might lose consciousness. Thought the world would never stop spinning. Thought the light would never take focus in front of his eyes. 

Then the intensity passed and he was gazing at her face. Perspiration dotted her brow. He brushed the damp hair away from her forehead. They had both worked up a sweat and the mountain breeze that rippled over the lake and across his back gave them both a shiver. He shifted her until he was surrounding her—her back to his chest, his chin on her head, the scent of her hair drifting up and carrying what smelled like cherry blossoms and vanilla. Water lapped against the boat and stars shone down on them from a clear sky, as though they were twinkling just for them.

He kissed the top of her head and whispered into her hair. “I’m done hiding,” he said.

She nuzzled even deeper into the crook of his arm. He couldn’t tell if the movement meant she agreed with him or not. But it didn’t matter. He had made up his mind.

“There’s a gala this Friday. For the Briggs Foundation. I want you there with me.”

“Clayton—”

“It’s time, Cora. It’s past time.”

“I would never fit in at something like that.”

He knew it was an excuse, but there was a small truth in what she said. He realized at least part of what was bothering her. Women cared more about these things than men. He wanted her to be completely comfortable. 

“I’ll buy you the dress,” he said, feathering kisses across the top of her head. “From wherever you like. Shoes too. I’ll buy you a thousand dresses.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, turning in his arms to face him, her eyes wide. “I absolutely forbid it.”

“Then wear your own dress,” he said. “Wear overalls if you’d like. I really don’t care.”

“It’s not about the dress.”

“Please, Cora. I need you to meet my family. I need you to be there.”

She looked up at him at those words. Her eyes looked so mysterious, like looking into the sky just after the last light of the sun had finally gone out of it. Dusty and hazy and blue.

“You need me?” she asked.

“I can barely breathe without you.”

She studied him for a moment. 

“Yes,” she finally said. There was worry in her voice. It wasn’t exactly the way he’d wanted to hear the yes. But it was a yes.

“You’ll come?”

“I’ll be there,” she said. “If you want me there, I’ll be there.”

“I do.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Clayton

Clayton spent the next few nights practicing alone. He hated to be without Cora, but he had to be absolutely certain that his ability to restrain himself wasn’t a fluke. He didn’t regret allowing himself to be with her. If anything, it had only strengthened his resolve to master his powers.

Because he knew now that he couldn’t be without her. As long as she was willing to be by his side, he wanted her there. And he had to be worthy of it. He had to know he would never, ever hurt her again.

So tonight, under a blanket of clouds that covered the moon and seemed to threaten rain, he was back on the island where they had shared their first kiss—trying to see what he could do when he wasn’t thinking about his power at all. He’d set himself a task tonight: to try to pull power from ten different objects into the same ball. 

He was already halfway there.

He summoned the power of a bluebell—which seemed like a waste. Cora’s eyes were nearly the same deep shade of blue. He would much rather present her with a bouquet of them. Its energy swirled around the ball already in his hand, before merging with it into an even larger ball. 

Then the bud of an evening primrose.

Clayton was momentarily distracted by a fox skittering through the trees, but carefully diverted his attention to a long shoot of wild onion.

And finally, a single white yarrow, its tight cluster of blooms like a cotton ball.

He sent the orb of energy—now the size of a small child—up into the air. And, as it had done every time since Cora suggested it, it burst into a silent light show. This time, however, the energy unleashed within the clouds, and the water in the atmosphere took in part of the blast too—shimmering for a moment in a vibrant display of purple and pink before dying away. He’d have to show Cora that one. She would love it.

He took in a satisfied breath. He was finally starting to feel like his abilities weren’t so much of an effort. He could do more now. And everything was easier and easier, just like she had said it would be.

Not only had he discovered the trick of being able to combine energy sources into one orb, but he found he could pull power from multiple sources all at once if he chose. The ease of it all gave him hope.

There were things he wanted to do now—plans he’d set in motion—and with his new sense of control, he thought he might be able to finally carry them through. 

He decided that he would give himself one final test before stopping for the night. It was something he’d been doing every night to some degree or another, and he hated it every time. It was the kind of image that one should guard themselves against, because it stayed with you—changed you forever. And yet, for him, he had to hold it close to make sure it didn’t destroy him. It was the only way to be sure.

He let the image enter his mind. Cora’s face—ashen and lifeless—the sound of her scream as he touched her. Anger at himself flared in his chest, as hot and fervent as it had been the first time he’d realized what he had done.

He kept his eyes closed, focused on the image.

A blade of grass and a bough of pine needles withered, their blue energy curling toward him.

Her face. Her body, limp against his.

A vine and a beetle joined the energy ball in his palm.

Her scream. That terrible scream.

A clump of wet moss.

The pulse of her energy in his hands. The sick desire to take everything.

He did the next three all at once, wanting to rid himself of this. A buttercup, a lily, a blade of grass. All of them came toward him at once to join the blue orb.

All he needed was two more and it would be finished. He could feel the terrible images of Cora burning a hole inside of him somewhere, etching itself permanently onto his soul. They would be with him forever. He would never forget. 

Be done with it.

He spotted a leaf, pulled from it as easy as breathing and then—

What was that? 

He felt it before he heard it. There was a giggle, the crunch of footsteps through the forest floor. Not twenty-five yards away a couple was approaching him, their energy burning hot—bigger than anything else he could feel—blocking out almost every other source. It was like holding a flashlight to the sun, all other energy eclipsed by a stronger source.

He realized, in that moment, that he had to do this. He had to pull from one more energy source right now, with the couple approaching. If he couldn’t, then he could never guarantee he’d be able to do it when he was truly under stress.

The footsteps drew closer. They were headed directly toward him. Then someone shouted his name.

“Clayton? Where are you, brother? I saw your boat.” It was Will. And the woman laughing next to him must be Meg.

God. It mattered even more now. He had to get this right.

He stilled his mind, and he looked. Not with his eyes, but with his senses. And he could see it. He could actually see it. All the living things reappeared to him, distinct from the approaching couple. They were dimmer, yes, but he could feel them. He could choose.

Will and Meg were only twenty feet away now. He had to act fast or risk letting them see. And he couldn’t do that. Not yet. Not like this.

He felt it just to his left, the shimmer of a dandelion—all its wispy seeds burst out from the center. As fast as he could, he willed the energy into his palm, then shot the ball up, up, up. Through the trees and into the night sky.