Forbidden Fire (Forbidden #2) (3 page)

"This is incredible. How did you—?" Drake looked at the man who had practically raised him. "You seem awfully prepared for something you knew nothing about until a few minutes ago."

The priest's blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "What can I say? I was a Boy Scout."

"Right... and it has nothing to do with how you always seem to know things you shouldn't?"

"My boy, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I should introduce you to Sam. She's good at reading people."

The priest laughed and hugged him. "I'd love to meet her. I have nothing to hide from your mind-reading girlfriend."

"Thank you, Father. You've given me hope when I was ready to give up."

"Never give up, Son. There is always reason to hope."

Goodbyes were hard, but Drake needed to go someplace and think. He needed to process all this new information and figure out what it would mean for him and Sam.

Drake inhaled the cool, salty beach air and sunk his toes into the warm sand. The crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean always calmed his mind, but not this time. He dropped his shoes onto the sand and rolled his cargo pants up past his calves, so he could feel the sharp bite of the cold water over his feet.

The sun hovered over the ocean, ushering in another day. Surfers dotted the watery landscape; Drake longed to be one of them, lost in the Zen of the wave, no other care or concern but that one moment of bliss.

His life had changed too much for surfing to bring him any peace. That day so many months ago changed everything. He'd been primed to win the regional Venice Beach Surfing Competition—next stop, Hawaii. Brad had warned him to keep a low profile, but surfing was too important to him, so Drake competed.

And he'd paid.

***

The wave crested and his board sliced into the water as he rode it to shore. In that moment, every molecule of his being had become one with the ocean.

The cheering crowd drummed in the back of his mind, but didn't break through the tranquility that surfing always brought him.

He rode the wave all the way to shore, still caught in the moment.

Rick knocked surfboards with him and grinned. "That wave was off the hook, man. A few more like those and you're sure to place first."

The warm sand squished under his feat, and the hot sun blazed down on his head. His senses came to him in increments, but he smiled at his friend. "Thanks, Dude, it felt good. I'm going to rinse off and grab a drink before the next round."

Drake dug through his cooler and pulled out a bottle of water, guzzling it in one gulp. He walked to the showers and rinsed off some of the saltwater and sand residue, all the while lost in thoughts of championships and Hawaii and sponsors. Today could forever change his life.

Something stung his shoulder.

He reached around and pulled out a dart. His thoughts swirled around in his head and his recent clarity gave way to a jumble of incoherent ramblings.

"Dude, are you all right?"

A voice spoke to him, but male or female, he couldn't tell. His vision blurred and he slumped onto the wet cement, with the cold water spraying over him until it ran out of time and stopped.

"Drake, you'll be okay. Come on, boy."

Again, a voice he didn't recognize. He reached out with his mind to stop whoever was touching him, but nothing happened. His power didn't work.

When hands pulled him away from the familiar noises, he fought with his muscle.

"Damn it, he's still too strong. Get him to the van, quick."

Before Drake could process anything more, a painful whack to his head sent him tumbling into darkness.

***

That day had been life-changing, just not they way he'd hoped or imagined.

Drake wondered if his blood still stained the block of cement his attackers had used to bash in his head that day, after hitting him with a tranquilizer gun from afar. Overkill, much? They hadn't underestimated his strength, at least.

Still, not all was lost. The priest's words gave him hope. They could form a plan. They had help. They were not alone.

But how did the priest know so much? Was he really psychic?

A shout from behind pulled him out of his thoughts. "Drake!"

Kylie the Beach Bunny, as she liked to be called, hadn't changed a bit. Bits of a silver string bikini hugged her curvaceous form as if it were painted on. Her bleach blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in artificial curls. Pretty much everything about Kylie was artificial, actually. Drake could not for the life of him remember why he'd ever hooked up with such a shallow creature.

Drake hadn't turned around all the way when Kylie slipped her slender arm around his waist and pressed her body against his back.

His skin crawled at her touch.

She leaned in close to his ear, her voice a contrived throaty whisper. "I've been missing you, Drakey boy. Nobody has ever had the stamina you do."

"Drake?"

Oh, shit.

Drake turned to face the last person he wanted to see in that moment.

I couldn't breathe. My heart sank to my feet and waited for death to extinguish its last few remaining beats.

Drake stood there with a gorgeous Victoria Secret model-type wrapped around him like one of those little monkeys on the Discovery Channel.

A chemical reaction in my brain wiped out any thought or reason, and before I could stop myself, I knocked the woman to the ground using mind control. Her perfect yoga ass hit the sand, and her face contorted into a comical mask of shock and disbelief.

Drake looked... proud? Ugh. Not the reaction I wanted from him.

He reached out for my hand. "Sam, it's not what it looks like. She showed up and... it just... nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. I swear to you."
'Read my mind. You'll know I'm telling the truth.'

I did. Not everything I learned helped the situation—like the fact that he'd slept with this tramp before he met me. But I also felt his revulsion. He couldn't stand her touch or her presence, and wanted nothing to do with her.

That made two of us.

And yes, he was proud of me for using mind control on her. I squished the little demon of contention that threatened to make a bad situation worse. This wasn't the time or place for Drake and me to debate the moral ambiguities of our powers.

Not taking the hint, the woman stood up, brushed herself off and inserted her fake double-D's between me and my man. Was she stupid?
I can destroy your mind if I choose to.

Drake barely controlled a laugh when he caught my thoughts.

I scowled at him. He was so
not
off the hook for this.

Drake brushed the woman aside and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "Kylie, this is my girlfriend, Sam."

Kylie's face dropped, but then she looked down at my belly. A smirk crept onto her pretty, silicone-injected lips. "Ah, I see. Trap by baby. That explains it." She poked her finger into my shoulder. "You think this little bundle of joy will hold Drake down? It won't. You can't give him what I can, in or out of the bed. It's only a matter of time before he comes crawling back to me."

My face went hot from rage. I pried open her mind without any of my usual subtlety and ripped into her thoughts like a college kid tearing into a bag of potato chips.

She squeezed her eyes shut as if in pain. I didn't care.

'Why is he with this shapeless loser when he could have me? He didn't find out about me and Brad, did he? Is that why he stopped coming around?'

"He didn't need to know you screwed his best friend to drop you. You never meant anything to him."

Kylie's eyes got so big I thought her eyeballs would pop out. Drake looked from her to me and back to her. "You and Brad? Seriously?"

"How could she know? Nobody knew. How?"

Drake's face turned to stone, but he kept his arm around me while he addressed her. "Just leave, Kylie. Leave me alone. I don't ever want to see you again."

I couldn't tell if Drake had coerced her using mind control, or if she'd left because of the tone of his voice, but at least she was gone.

I slumped in Drake's arms and fought the tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm a horrible person."

What kind of hypocrite am I? I can't get over Drake using his powers against me to save my life, but I'm apparently more than willing to use mine against his old girlfriend.
I basically mind-raped her, and for what? Because she had her hands on my boyfriend? Because she looks better in a swimsuit than I do?

Drake turned Sam to face him. "No, you're not horrible. You're human and she was being a bitch. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. What are you even doing out here? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I'm feeling better. Or at least I was. I think the worst is over."

Her eyes peeked open, revealing the dazzling blue that took his breath away each time he looked at her. Her cheeks had pinked a bit, and the dark circles under her eyes had begun to fade.

"I'm not shaking as much, and I ate a whole egg this morning."

He smiled. One egg wasn't enough, but it was a lot more than she'd been able to keep down lately. He'd take any small victory at this point.

Sam reached up and pressed her lips against his. The kiss ignited all the passion he'd been keeping bottled up since he and Sam met in person.

Patience had never been one of his virtues, but with Sam it was different. He couldn't rush her or force her into being with him before she was ready.

She'd been through so much, and while he craved her body in ways that making out just didn't satiate, he'd promised her, and himself, that he would wait until she felt comfortable. But with skin so milky and soft, hair so smooth and rich, and eyes that seduced him with every glance, it was getting harder and harder to keep his hands to himself.

He was beginning to sympathize with Joseph, Mary's betrothed in the Bible, except Sam was carrying
Drake's
child, not God's. And still, they'd done nothing more than kissing and some touching. Drake wondered what Father Patrick would say about this. He'd probably be amused that Drake, who believed in nothing, would draw parallels to himself and Joseph.

"Earth to Drake. You still here?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking about how beautiful you are."

Sam dropped her head and pulled away. "Yeah, right. I
could
just read your mind, you know."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just... I worry that if I don't... you know... with you soon, the next time some girl rubs up against you, you won't be able to resist. And then I'll lose you forever."

Drake pulled her against his chest and held her tight. "Sam, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my whole life. Nothing could ever keep me from you. You don't need to worry about that. Ever. Okay?"

She nodded against his chest, but didn't speak.

"Hey, I've got an idea. We're already here at Venice Beach, and you've been wanting to take a tour of the place, so why don't we walk around? I'll buy you an ice cream and introduce you to the freakishness that is Venice. What do you say?"

An ocean breeze tempered the warm sun as we walked by the many displays and shops in Venice. The crashing waves in the distance and smell of seawater relaxed me in a way I hadn't anticipated. Looking around at the diversity that was Venice Beach, I could understand its appeal to Drake. Here, people from every walk of life came to hang out. Here, we could easily get lost in the crowd.

We walked over to an ice cream stand, and Drake bought me a mint-chip cone. Even this close to winter, Southern California still had warm days.

His phone beeped. He pulled it from his pocket and responded to a text as he explained, "Brad. He'll be here in a minute. Sounds like his day sucked."

We sat on a bench and enjoyed our ice cream in silence.

Brad approached and slouched onto the bench next to us, his long legs extended out in front of him. "They practically laughed me out of the office when I tried to pitch them the story of paranormal kids being rented out by an evil organization. Oh, hey, Sam. You're looking a lot better. How do you feel?"

"Good, thanks. I think I'm over the worst of it." I licked a bit of melting ice cream from my cone.