Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to it, honey,” she said softly. “I’m always going to look at you this way because it’s the way I feel about you.”

Lightning flickered across the bottoms of the purple-blue clouds roiling overhead and this time, she felt the answering jolt in her body. Her hair moved subtly, lifting toward the sky, and the little fireflies began to dance around her midsection.

“I’m going to have to walk out into the meadow until the storm passes. You stay here, Rubin,” she directed and went to push up on the arms of the wooden rocking chair. The rocker had been hand-carved by the two brothers. She loved it so much. It was her favorite piece of furniture.

Rubin put his hand over hers. “Stay there, Jonquille. We can practice right here. The water, you, perfect attraction for lightning.”

Trepidation seized her. Her tongue touched her lower lip. “You’re too close. So is the house. One miss and our beautiful home is toast.” And so was he. Her man. Her everything. She’d come too close to losing him already. That miss was too near. How did one tell a strong man no? Her heart began to accelerate like a race car out of control. She almost started hyperventilating. “Rubin …”

“Lightning Bug.” His thumb slid over the back of her hand in that mesmerizing and soothing slide. His voice was pure velvet. “This is what we do. We’ll just sit here and play. It’s relaxing. Think of it like a video game.”

“I don’t play video games.” She tried to glare at him, but she’d found that it was impossible to glare at Rubin ever since she’d nearly lost him. “This is dangerous and you know it. That lead stroke is going to come straight for me. I don’t care if the military wants a weapon and you’re supposed to be helping them figure out how to develop one, I don’t want to take a chance with your life.” There. She’d said it and been straight to the point.

The lines in his face softened. The expression in his dark, dark eyes was suddenly unfathomable, but it made her stomach do a slow somersault.

“Think about what’s going to happen when the two of us have children, Lightning Bug. Because we are going to have them. Beautiful little girls who look like fairy-tale princesses. If they attract lightning, we have to be able to direct it away from them. If they can direct it away from their siblings, they have to be taught no matter how young. That’s going to be our family, and they’ll learn that responsibility. We’ll keep them safe and they’ll keep each other safe. Settle for me now.”

She wanted to. She just looked at him. Rubin. Her home. Her man. The best of the best. For a moment her vision blurred and she blinked rapidly to bring him in focus. “You don’t understand, Rubin. You can’t understand. I almost lost you.” She whispered the dreaded secret to him. “I can’t sleep. I just stay awake and stare at you while you sleep. I have to. I have to know you’re alive and breathing. I understand Diego so much better, the way he can barely breathe sometimes, pacing outside our door, guarding the house while you sleep. He has to. We almost lost you.” She blinked rapidly again to correct that troublesome blurred vision.

Lightning forked in every direction overhead. Jonquille’s pale, silvery hair rose straight toward the sky as thunder roared in a violent accompaniment. Her eyes had gone nearly completely silver, and sparks rained from her fingertips, little charges racing toward the sky. The invisible channel of electrically charged air streaked straight toward Jonquille at approximately two hundred thousand miles per hour.

A powerful surge of electricity burst from Jonquille, bright, beautiful sparks of dancing lights, millions of them, like the fireflies dancing on the grasses of the Appalachian Mountains, or the fireworks exploding over the lakes on the Fourth of July. Before the two charges could meet, Rubin had already shifted the direction of the lead stroke away from the ground charge so that the cloud stroke hit a dead tree in the woods, one hollow and already soaked through. It was clear he’d chosen his target far in advance.

Little sparkles rained down on the porch as the electrical energy settled around her. The charge was building again with the storm directly overhead. She either had to jump off the porch and make a run for it, or ride it out with Rubin and practice for the sake of their nonexistent family.

Rubin was calm. Sometimes the strikes came one after another. Other times they were minutes apart. During those times, he would rub his thumb over her inner wrist, making her intensely aware of him.

“Are you the only one that can direct electrical energy like this?” Jonquille’s voice shook.