Page 43 of Séance

Looking through the windshield, I startle when I realize that we’re parked in front of their mansion. I twist my fingers anxiously, acid churning in my stomach at the thought of putting off the inevitable questions until later. My anxiety would just stew, leaving me an even bigger mess.

Taking a deep breath, I shrug and force a smile. “That’s okay. We can cook if you want.”

A furrow appears between his brows, and I can’t resist the impulse to lean over and smooth my fingers over it. His dark expression immediately softens. My stomach flutters, and I’m not sure if my reaction is because of his nearness or because I dared to touch him so freely.

My parents taught me that touch was pain, and I mentally wince at the consequences of my rash behavior. I’ve never been so forward with anyone, but something about Gunner and the boys makes me feel safe for the first time in my life.

Deciding to be daring, I peer up at Gunner from under my lashes, and he looks the opposite of upset. Yes, I know my father is a liar and a piece of shit, but the lessons he taught me were so intertwined with pain that it’s hard to forget.

Gunner reaches for me, and I barely stop myself from flinching. Instead of a blow, he gently grabs my hand and tugs me from the vehicle. He doesn’t back up, though, and I end up nearly plastered against his front. It should be awkward as fuck and I should be shuddering in fear, yet I find myself slipping my arms around his waist to hug him close.

Since I haven’t been given many hugs in my life, I’m awkward as fuck, and I suddenly wonder if I’m doing it right. His arms wrap around me, and I melt against him with a sigh, his heatmaking it impossible not to cuddle closer and savor the safety of his embrace.

The scents of man and detergent and car are so different from my father’s synthetic scent that I barely resist burying my nose in his chest and inhaling. “Do you think the little girl will be okay?”

She’s the first person I was able to save with my gift. The experience was exhilarating, but now I feel responsible for her well-being, and it’s terrifying.

Before my anxiety can take over, Jameson speaks. “Ellis and I will make sure of it.”

His voice is so close that my eyes pop open, and I find him standing only inches away. His normal pale blue eyes are stormy, nearly white with rage. In place of the trickster is a god of vengeance, and I swear I can practically see dark ribbons of black and red swirl around him like an aura.

It’s like I’m seeing the real him—the opposite side of the coin from the normal mischief and chaos he spreads.

Maybe I should be afraid of the change, but rightness settles in my bones. This is what he is meant to do—avenge those who couldn’t protect themselves. I reach out and lightly touch his face. “You’ll let me know if you need my help?”

He captures my hand and kisses the back of it almost reverently, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgment. The tension in his body eases slightly, and he squeezes my fingers before tossing me a wink. “Of course. Now why don’t you head into the kitchen while this big lug and I carry in the groceries?”

I reluctantly pull away, rubbing my cheek against Gunner’s chest one last time before I go, loving the little rumble under my ear. I plop my hands on my hips and scowl at Jameson. “I’m not helpless. I helped with the shopping, and I can help put away the bags.”

His eyebrows shoot up, then a smile takes over his face. He opens the trunk and disappears for a second. Just as I take a step toward the back of the car, he strides toward me, solemnly cradling a single bag in his hand. “I’m entrusting you with our secret project. Guard it with your life.”

“What the hell did you get?” Gunner peers over my shoulder, suspicion and curiosity in his tone.

“Never you mind.” I immediately snatch the bag to my chest and shoo him away. Of course he doesn’t listen. He reaches for the bag, a furrow between his brows, and I squeal and take off toward the house at a dead run. “Death over dishonor!”

Jameson’s bark of laughter echoes across the yard. Even as I throw open the door and charge inside the house, Gunner’s exasperated voice reaches me. “Dear gods, there are two of you now.”

I would almost feel bad if I didn’t detect the hint of amusement coloring his tone.

He needs to laugh more, and I vow to make him smile at least once a day.

I soundlessly creep through the house, having plenty of practice while sneaking through my old house…well, after picking the lock on my door first. Punishment was brutal—usually a beating before being shoved into a tiny closet that my father had specifically built for me.

It wasn’t tall enough for me to stand or stretch out my legs, and the lack of air-conditioning created a tiny sauna that stomped out any defiance. Just finding air to breathe was a chore. After a day or two in the box, it was all I could do to keep my body from shutting down or my brain from completely cracking.

Logically, I know the guys would never do anything so horrific. It just feels wrong to walk through the rooms withoutthem being present, almost like I’m doing something forbidden, and I’m not sure if I want to get caught or not.

Entering the kitchen eases the oppressive feeling, the wall of windows allowing me to take a deep breath. I glance around the kitchen, conscious of the bag in my hand, and I’m not sure where to stash it.

Hiding things from my father, who periodically searched my room for anything he considered contraband, became a specialty of mine. After a second of hesitation, I plant my foot on the counter and pull myself upright. Bag in hand, I push myself up on my toes and carefully edge the bag over the top of the cupboard, the crown molding easily hiding any evidence of my stash.

I dust my hands off, satisfied with myself.

“What are you doing?” Though the tone is only mildly curious, I still yelp and whirl…and trip off the edge of the counter with a startled squeak.

I tuck my arms close, bracing for the pain, and land with an oomph when arms catch me. I stare up at Ellis with wide eyes, not sure how to react to his bemused expression. With a crooked smile, I blink up at him innocently. “That last step is a doozie.”

He snorts, squeezing me close for a moment before he reluctantly sets me down on my feet. I slide down the length of his body, my smile slipping when I feel every inch of his hard frame. He’s not as bulky as the others, and I completely misjudged his slim musculature. Though slender, his body is like steel, and my fingers itch to explore him more.

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