Anomalous Rogues, page 12
“Wait…” Anya shook her head. “You want to insert a serum into my brother and give him a new ability?”
The Shadow nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s not in any danger. In fact, none of us are.”
Anya shifted her attention back to Tristan and reached for his hand.
Tristan’s eyes shot open, and he gasped as if he’d been underwater that whole time. Suddenly, they were back in the hotel room. A bright fluorescent ring was shining behind them.
Anya swung around, confused. Tristan collapsed to the floor. The ring faded, leaving the both of them at a complete loss, staring at each other.
“What happened?” he asked, pushing himself up.
“I don’t know,” she breathed, still stunned. “I think you teleported us back to the room.”
Anya looked around. The boy from the bank was sleeping on the bed just as he was before, but Chloe and Zane were nowhere to be found.
A knock came from the door, and she shot an anxious look at Tristan. He leaned against the wall, barely conscious. He was drained. Anya hurried to the window and peeked through the curtain. Chloe and Zane were standing outside. A wave of relief washed over her, and she opened the door.
“Quick. Get inside.” She pulled them in and locked the door behind them. “Where did you both go? I told you not to leave the boy alone.”
Chloe stared at Anya as if she’d sprouted two heads, then she glanced at the sleeping boy with a puzzled look.
“First of all,” Chloe said, lifting a finger. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And second…” She pointed at the sleeping boy. “Who the heck is that?”
Anya gave Chloe and Zane a quizzical look. Anya noticed Zane wearing a shoulder sling. “What happened to your shoulder?”
Zane glanced at Chloe puzzled, then back at Anya. “Killian dislocated my shoulder in the school’s courtyard. You were there, Anya. You don’t remember?”
Anya shook her head. “No, he cut your hand. I healed you at your house.”
Zane arched a brow. “You said it was best if you didn’t heal my shoulder, otherwise, it would call attention.”
Anya pulled back, confused.
“Anyway, we found something you should see,” Chloe cut in. “Grab your laptop, Zane.”
Zane pulled out his laptop from his bookbag. Before long, he had the image on the screen of Tristan’s father standing by a window.
Anya blinked several times, even more confused. “You already showed me this.”
“Anya, we just got here,” Chloe said, exasperated. “What on earth is wrong with you?”
Anya spun around and faced Tristan with her mouth hanging open. “No way.”
Tristan could barely keep his eyes open. “You don’t think I…”
“I think so.” Anya hurried to his side and pushed two fingers to his neck. His pulse was weak.
“What’s wrong with him?” Zane asked.
“He’s drained,” Anya said, examining his dilated pupils. “He needs an IV, and quick.”
“IV?” Chloe echoed. “You altered him?”
“I had to. He was bleeding out,” she said, touching his chest. The stain of blood on his shirt was still there, but she could no longer feel any internal bleeding. The wound was fully healed.
“So, you kissed him?” Chloe echoed.
“It was the fastest way to heal him,” Anya explained. “Like I said...he was bleeding out. But that’s not what we should be concerned about.”
“What should we be concerned with?” Chloe asked.
Anya dropped on the carpeted floor next to Tristan. “His ability…” she said, breathless.
Chloe’s face went pale. “What is it?”
Anya stared blindly across the room as she leaned her back against the wall. “Time travel.”
TWENTY-ONE
Did Anya just say they traveled back in time?
Tristan wanted to open his eyes, but he was too weak. Too drained. He rubbed his chest. The wound was gone. She healed him? When had she kissed him?
He sucked in a deep breath, hoping it would help the nausea, but his head was spinning and ears ringing.
Anya’s cold hand pressed against his hot forehead was a welcome relief. The motel room felt like a furnace.
“He’s burning up,” Anya said.
Tristan opened his eyes. The room was blurry. He tugged on his jacket, and Anya leaned forward to help him remove it.
“Is that better?” she asked, close to his ear.
He nodded, then pulled at the collar of his shirt. He would strip off all of his clothes if he could. His blood was boiling inside of him. He’d been told about the altering process, but clearly the trackers had never actually been through it.
“So, what exactly do you mean by time travel?” Zane asked as if still trying to wrap his mind around the new discovery.
That made two of them.
“I can’t think of any other explanation,” Anya said, wiping Tristan’s clammy forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. ”We were at his father’s house when a sniper shot through the window. His father was killed, and another shot hit Tristan in the chest. He was bleeding out—so I kissed him—to heal him.”
“What happened after that?” Chloe asked.
“The sheriff appeared.”
“My father?” Chloe sounded shocked.
“It wasn’t your father. I mean, it was but…” Anya pressed her eyes shut, as though trying to remember. “The Shadow was controlling him. His eyes were gray, and he was saying things that your father would’ve never known. He knew things about my uncle and my brother.”
“And then?” Zane asked. “What happened after that?”
“He took us in his cruiser. I couldn’t tell where he was taking us, but then Tristan woke up, and—we ended up back here. In the past. Living it all over again. Except...” She pointed at Zane’s shoulder. “Killian had cut your hand, not dislocated your arm.”
Zane let out a low whistle as he plopped down on the sofa. “When he jumped back in time...things changed.”
Anya nodded. “It seems so.”
“Why is that a bad thing?” Chloe asked, looking from Zane to Anya. “If he can really go back in time, why not just go back a month and keep your brother from getting caught by that psycho?”
“It’s too dangerous,” Anya said. “Messing with the timeline changes things. Besides, we don’t know anything about his ability. It’s still being developed, which means it’s unstable. We could end up in 1946 and change the future to where none of us is ever born.”
Tristan’s mouth went dry, and his stomach churned. He scrambled across the floor and grabbed the small trash can from under the table. His whole body spasmed as he heaved. The smell of iron filled his senses as he vomited blood.
“He needs an IV,” Anya said. “He’s too dehydrated.”
Zane paced back and forth. “Where will we get an IV bag?”
Anya’s hand was suddenly on Tristan’s shoulder, and she let out a long breath. “I know where we can find a few bags.”
Tristan opened his eyes to a popcorn ceiling. His blurred vision cleared, and he spotted an IV hanging above him, and a tube attached to the vein in his arm. He recognized the sofa he was lying on. They were no longer in the motel room. Instead, they were in her uncle’s basement.
The room was dim and quiet. He lifted his head and spotted Anya sitting in front of her uncle’s desktop computer.
He vaguely remembered Anya helping him up off the floor of the motel, leaving Chloe and Zane to look after the boy. They drove for a while, but he had no idea where they were going. She helped him out of the car. They were in her house. In her uncle’s lab.
Tristan pushed himself up, and Anya turned her attention to him.
“Hey…” She grabbed a bottle of water and sat beside him. “I talked to Zane earlier and he said he tracked your father down. He’s alive.”
Tristan let out a relieved breath as he sat up straighter. Sure, he didn’t get along with his father, but he would never wish the man dead.
“I also told Chloe about the Shadow using her father, so she’s going to play dumb and keep him out of the loop for as long as possible.”
Tristan’s head was spinning. He knew what Anya was saying, but it was hard to process everything.
She handed him the bottle of water. “Here. Drink this.”
He downed the cold liquid in two large gulps, then leaned back on the sofa. She then gave him a piece of gum which he immediately began to chew. “Thanks.”
“How do you feel?” she asked, frowning. There was a hint of concern in her voice.
“Much better,” he assured her.
She got up and replaced the IV bag. Her hands were trembling. “It’s your third bag. You’ll be feeling a hundred percent in no time.”
He wanted to tell her not to worry, but his throat was still burning. At least the vomiting had stopped, and the minty gum soothed his throat.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
“You have nothing to be sorry for—”
“I ruined your life.” She stepped back, away from him.
“No, you didn’t.” He removed the IV tube from his arm and hung it on the metal pole as he stood, ignoring how it made his head spin. “You saved me—again. And I’m grateful for that.”
Anya looked away, shaking her head. “You may say that now, but…”
“But nothing.” He reached for her and cupped her face. “I’m alive because of you. You did a good thing.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Do you regret saving me?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
“Of course not.” A single tear slid down her cheek, and Tristan caught it with his thumb.
“Then stop apologizing.”
“I altered you, Tristan. Without giving you a choice,” she said, biting back the rest of her tears. “I made the choice for you, and this is not the kind of choice you make for anyone—”
“Anya, stop.” He gave her a serious look. “You made the right choice. I would’ve made the same one.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” She pushed his hands away and stepped back. “You’re a tracker, Tristan. You hunt anomalous for a living. You spent all summer dragging them to those blacksites to be tortured.”
“Yes, I did that,” he admitted. “But things have changed.”
“Because I altered you.”
“Because I met you!”
Anya’s brows knitted together. “What?”
“You did change me, Anya,” he said, drawing close to her. “But it was long before you altered me.”
She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. He drew closer and her gasp was barely above a whisper as if her breath got hitched in her throat. That was when he realized he had gotten so close, there was no space between them. Her chest was pressing against his, and her nervous breath brushed his face. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her even closer. The warmth of her body against him made his blood boil and his temperature rose all over again. Unlike before, he enjoyed the sensation. Despite the knot in his stomach, he didn’t let her go. He couldn’t.
Then it dawned on him. He didn’t have to. They were finally one and the same. And their desire was no longer forbidden.
His fingers gently grazed the side of her face, until they slipped behind the nape of her neck. His thumb brushed her rosy cheek.
He watched her for a long moment, waiting for some sign of a protest. Part of him felt like she was going to push him away and run out the door, but she didn’t move. Instead, her eyes fluttered closed as if welcoming his touch. It was as if she wanted to stay right where she was, in his arms.
He pressed her tighter against him, his free hand reaching up to cup the other side of her face.
She was so beautiful.
He stared at his own hands, not quite believing he was so close. He also couldn’t believe those same hands were used to capture her kind to be dissected and killed.
But never again.
Gone was the tracker with the tasers and the secrets. The sole purpose of his hands from that moment on was to keep her safe.
He leaned in, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.
“Please,” he whispered into her ear. “Don’t ever apologize again.”
And, without another thought, he kissed her.
TWENTY-TWO
Tristan’s lips were softer than anything she’d ever known. They were like honey, sweet and delicate.
He deepened the kiss with strength and desperation. She parted her lips and the taste of his tongue made gravity disappear. He was all heat and desire and her mind floated to a heavenly bliss.
She pulled him closer, but he broke away. He gazed into her eyes as if he was just now making sense of it all. As if nothing in his life had ever felt right until that moment.
He seemed to have been searching her eyes for something hidden, and she wanted nothing more than to open herself up to him. To melt into his arms. Into his heart. And allow him to unlock every secret she’d ever kept. But most of all, she wanted him to kiss her again.
She claimed his lips with a passion she never knew existed. It was deep and urgent, as if being apart from him was no longer an option. The anticipation was so riveting, she could no longer wait.
His hands traveled down the length of her back as if trying to memorize every curve of her figure. He kissed her neck, her throat, the slope of her shoulders. Her skin was on fire. Her breaths came harder, faster, and every cell in her body exploded like fireworks. It was a wanting so desperate, a need so exquisite, her equilibrium spun on its axis. And when his hands gripped her hair, her mind gave up all sense of place and time.
Her feet left the floor, then her back was against the wall. He kissed her like she was his sole source of oxygen, and she hung to him, burying her fingers in his hair. Her heart beat as if on the final stretch of a race. Even her best fantasy had never felt that good.
They pulled apart just long enough to take a breath, then his mouth was on hers again, and she parted her lips to welcome once more the invigorating taste of his tongue.
She moaned against his lips, stealing his breath as he tried exhaling. He lifted her off the floor again, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her effortlessly to the sofa.
She straddled his lap as he buried his other hand beneath her hair. He pulled it back gently and she gasped when his lips started down her neck again. Another wave of heat rippled through her body, aching for him.
His hands slid down her body, and a whimper got hitched in her throat, begging to break free as she locked her fingers in his hair.
“Tristan…” Her voice came out ragged and breathless, but she couldn’t care less. She just needed to say his name.
His lips traveled up her jaw, leaving a trail of fire wherever it touched, setting her insides ablaze. Her mind screamed with pleasure, and she arched her back until he met her lips again.
She slid her hands down the length of his back, reveling at the hills and valleys of his muscles. She had never felt anything like it before. Every cell in her body was about to explode, like every touch was enough to ignite the sun.
Her mind was blissfully empty, and long forgotten was the danger outside those walls. Nothing else mattered except for the hunger in his eyes, and the burning of his body against hers.
Tristan pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. His skin was flushed with heat, and his heart raced against her chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said, breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”
When he didn’t finish, she opened her eyes and flashed him a smile. “No apologizing, remember?”
He chuckled, then sucked in a breath so deep, it was as if he hadn’t breathed in forever. “Anya.”
She closed her eyes, melting at how sweet he made her name sound. “Yes?”
“I’ve fallen in love with you.”
She opened her eyes, and he held her gaze.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he whispered, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I just…I just needed you to know.”
She wanted to say it back. She was dying to say it back. But there was something about that stretch of silence that made her words fail. Something about the feel of those three words on her tongue that unlocked the sane part of her brain.
“I altered you,” Anya muttered. She jumped to her feet and backed away from him. “Oh, my goodness! I altered you!”
He rose to his feet, confused. “I thought we’d been through this already.”
“It’s the connection,” she explained. “When someone is altered, they build a strong but temporary connection with the person who altered them.”
Tristan arched a brow as if he had a hard time following. “So…”
“So, what you’re feeling right now might just be a mirror of what I feel for you.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “I’m pretty sure these feelings are my own.”
“What if they’re not, though?” She ran her fingers through her hair and paced around the small space. “You know what, that doesn’t even matter right now. We’re getting off track, and that can’t happen. Not while my brother is out there with that psychopath.”
Tristan nodded, then sat on the arm of the sofa. “Okay, then let’s get back on track.”
Anya’s heart sank, but she knew it was the right thing to do.
“So, what do we know so far?” Tristan asked.
“The Shadow said something about needing my brother because he’s an empty shell,” Anya said.
“What does that have to do with the anomalous research we found on your uncle’s laptop?”
“He wants to insert a serum into my brother’s system and give him a new ability.”
“What ability could they want to give a nine-year-old?” Tristan asked.
“I’m not sure, but your father said something about a biochemical weapon—” Anya gasped and turned to Tristan with panicked eyes. “Oh, no.”
