Page 34 of Semi-Reckless

Praying.

He wasn’t sure who or what to pray to, or if there was any protocol for praying he should follow. So, he decided to just throw his prayer out there to any gods that might be listening. Maybe one of them would take pity on his sorry ass.

“Please. Don’t let me fuck this up again,” he whispered.

“I won’t,” Haven mumbled groggily before shoving her nose into the crook of his neck and drifting back to sleep.

Huh. Guess he was a better at this praying thing than he’d thought.

CHAPTER 16

Sex flashbacks were totally messing with her mojo.

Haven bent at the waist, struggling to catch her breath, as if she’d just attempted to run a marathon, which she never would since running was stupid unless you were actively being chased. All because mastering her new power was physically the most exhausting shit ever.

The worst part? In four hours, she’d managed to bring forth her power exactly twice, and even then, she’d only been able to shove the target dummy back an inch.

And that was to say nothing of the emotional and spiritual exhaustion. Not already having control of her own body was demoralizing, embarrassing, and was sending her into an existential spiral. Why was she given this power if it was going to be so hard to master? What would happen to her if she failed? Was this why she’d been assigned a guardian angel? Was she destined to do something world-altering with this power? If that was the case and she failed to control it, what would the ramifications of such a cosmic oops be for her, her family, and Carl?

In between all the questions her brain kept conjuring were the sex flashbacks. The heat, the skin on skin, bodies straining against…

“Stop it,” Mischa barked at her.

Mischa had been barking at her a lot during their training sessions. The woman was like the tiniest vampire drill sergeant that ever lived…or died…or…vampired. Whatever. That wasn’t relevant.

What was relevant was the disgusted look her godmother was currently giving her. “Stop what?”

Mischa smoothed the thick ponytail that trailed down the middle of her back. Haven squelched a stab of envy. The woman was gorgeous, her husband was beyond gorgeous, she was smart, one of the best fighters Haven had ever seen, in control of her powers, and immortal. Did she really deserve all that perfect hair, too? It was an embarrassment of riches. “First of all, stop overthinking. Not everything has to be an existential crisis. This is just about control. And second of all, please stop with all the sex fantasies. I don’t want to see my goddaughter like that, and I definitely don’t want to see him like that.” She shot a disgusted scowl in Roan’s direction.

Roan merely smirked at her from where he was leaning negligently against the wall in the Section 8 training room, completely unashamed. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of. Especially since she was still feeling a little dehydrated and weak in the thighs after…

Mischa groaned. “For the love of all that’s holy, can you please calm your mind? I know it’s not your normal state, but I’m going to need you to dial back the brain activity to, like, half speed. Can you do that for me?”

Haven took a deep breath, doing her best to think soothing, calming thoughts. Damn it, this was why she shouldn’t have quit yoga all those years ago. “I can try.”

She did. And it worked. For a few seconds. Then her mind started to drift. Her thoughts of yoga reminded her that puppy yoga was a thing. Puppies were awesome. That viral video of the orphaned puppy getting adopted by the cat mom who’d lost her babies always made her cry. She’d never had a puppy before. Not until Addy brought Fluffy home from Nexxus. Nexxus was no place for a sweet puppy. Or anyone, really. She was glad Roan had gotten out of there. Roan could do this thing with his tongue on her…

Mischa threw her hands up. “That’s enough for today. Get some rest tonight, drink plenty of fluids, and eat a good meal. Maybe then you’ll be able to wrestle control of your mind from the chaos monster that obviously lives there rent free. And if that doesn’t do it, we’re going to have to send you to Vi for some breathing exercises or something, because…damn. That’s a lot.”

Violet Marchand was the preeminent paranormal psychiatrist in the country. She was also Nikolai’s wife and was generally the smartest person in any room. So she was not ready to call Vi in on her tiny, almost insignificant problems. Letting someone as put-together as Vi see how fucked up she was…yeah, no, thanks. Haven wanted no part of that nonsense. She cringed. “Sorry.”

Mischa gathered up her purse and sports water bottle that probably had blood in it, and patted Haven’s shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t be sorry. You did good work today. No one expected you to be able to control brand new powers overnight.”

She nodded, still feeling a little bummed. So many women in her family had powers. Was it this hard for any of them?

When Mischa was gone, Roan laid his hands on her shoulders. She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “Don’t be discouraged,” he said. “You made good progress today.”

“I’m not really discouraged, just…frustrated, I guess? With my genetics, it should be easier, shouldn’t it?”

“No,” he assured her. “Do you honestly think your mom mastered her power overnight? Or Addy or Seven? They didn’t. I happen to know they all had to train with Hunter and Mischa, and none of them caught on immediately. You’re expecting too much from yourself.”

“Someone has to,” she grumbled.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that no one has ever expected too much from me. I’ve always been protected and coddled—which, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything I have—but I’ve never been able to, I don’t know, stretch my abilities and find out what I’m really good at.” She shrugged. “On some level, I was hoping it was this new power.”

He jerked his head back. “Do you honestly think anyone doubts how smart and strong and capable you are?”

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