Penumbra (Spook Squad 3)
Samantha! You must resist. You are not grounded and will be lost. You cannot do this yet.
The internal voice was one she recognized. Joe. Always there when she needed help the most.
But the storm called her name, and the thought fled. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the caress of the power as she raised her arms a little more.
No! You cannot lose yourself to the storm. It would kill us both.
His fear vibrated through her, briefly stalling the flow of energy swirling around her. But it was a voice, a real voice, hard and loud, that shook her more.
“Sam!” Hands appeared through the maelstrom of energy, their flesh almost black compared to the brightness of the lightning-fed power. They grabbed her arm, her hand, and a shock more explosive than the storm ran through her. Suddenly she could feel the chill of the wind, the splatter of rain across her face, the throbbing in her knees and the ache in her mind.
And with that, the energy leapt away and returned to the heavens. The feeling of oneness was gone, the light was gone, and all that was left was weakness. Complete and utter weakness.
She fell forward into arms that were warm and solid and real, and she knew without looking that it was Gabriel. She didn’t ask how he was there, or why he was there, and she didn’t particularly care. She simply rested in the security of his touch as her body trembled and she gasped for breath.
His grip tightened slightly, as if he’d felt her need for closeness. His warmth began to seep into her, heating her skin, leaching away the last vestiges of energy and making her feel real again, rather than a creature of the storm. She closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling her own begin to echo its rhythm.
“Are you all right?” he asked, after a while. His breath caressed warmth across the top of her head and a tremor of desire ran through her.
Not a feeling she needed right now.
She nodded in answer to his question and pulled back. His grip moved to her shoulders, holding her steady and preventing her from drawing away. His gaze searched hers, the green in those hazel depths glowing like emerald fire, as if the storm had somehow empowered him, too.
“What the hell just happened?” he asked.
She gave a shaky laugh and wiped a hand across her wet face—a useless gesture given the rain. “I now understand what Karl meant with his warning. And he was right.”
He raised a hand and gently brushed bedraggled strands of hair from her cheek. She didn’t see the point since the wind and the rain just flung them back, but she wasn’t about to object, either. His touch was too comforting. Too good.
“Then you called the storm to you?”
She shook her head. “It called me.” She hesitated. “It felt so right, so pleasurable, like I was coming home. It would have been very easy to get lost in that feeling, as Karl warned.”
Gabriel frowned. “So what brought you back?”
“You did.” She paused. “And Joe.”
She’d half-expected her answer to annoy or anger him, but he merely raised his eyes. “Both of us?”
“Yes. Joe contacted me, briefly halting the call of the storm. And then you touched me, loosening the storm’s grip and bringing me back.”
He studied her for a moment, then said, “That would suggest that this mysterious Joe and I might both play a part in being your base. And yet, according to Karl, a walker has only one base.”
She blew out a breath, her gaze searching his. “You know, I thought you’d be pissed off about that—about being my base, that is.”
“I am, but there’s no use raging against something I can do nothing about.” He hesitated. “Besides, we still know very little about walkers as a race. Karl’s journal may have proven useful so far, but it isn’t as in-depth as we need it to be. Even if your dominant genes are walker, we’ll still be uncovering information as we run through our trials and experiments. And it is by no means certain that I or this Joe are your base. Nor is it certain that you actually need one.”
If what had just happened was any indication, she did. But he knew that as much as she did. “But if it is true, you could end up tied to me. And we both know you don’t want that.”
“I don’t need that, true.” He brushed his thumb down her cheek, lightly touching the corner of her mouth. Another tremor ran through her and, like before, it had nothing to do with the night or the rain or the fact that she was drenched. He half-smiled and added, “But if I have to be stuck with someone, then I guess I could do worse.”
“Well, gee,” she said dryly, glad the tremor running through her limbs wasn’t evident in her voice, “that is such an overwhelmingly sentimental statement that I might just cry.”
He chuckled softly and dropped his hand to her shoulder again. “Look, I’ve been a bastard the last few months, and I will undoubtedly be a bastard again in the future. I don’t want a partner, be it you or the idiot they’ve saddled me with now. I play solo. I have to. It’s not personal.”
“None of which is answering my original concern.”
“I know.” His touch left her shoulders as he sat back on his heels, and the night suddenly felt colder. “It’s not that I don’t want any sort of connection with you—”