“You’d be fine,” he reassured me. “You’re much stronger than you think. Stronger than me. You always were.”
My eyes filled with tears. “What are you saying?”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Please. Don’t cry.”
His hands gliding to the sides of my waist, he leaned in close—so close I stopped breathing—and kissed a tear that had fallen down my cheek. Afraid he’d back away, I lifted my lips to his, brushing against them, softly, tentatively at first, awakening the current that trembled through me. Twining my arms around his neck, I drew myself into him. And with a sigh, he tightened his arms around me, parted his lips, and the culmination of thousands of years of waiting poured out of him like a dam had burst.
The energy around us built with the wind off the water, rushing past my skin, tangling my hair. I wanted to be swept away, carried above the clouds to the heavens. For a moment, everything was warm and bright like the sun.
In the distance, I could hear a gentle female voice in the wind, then a chorus of voices, speaking all at once, calling Michael by name.
His body tensed, but he pulled me closer, his kisses more urgent. The wind had died down, and a golden flare brushed my skin, searing me. I crushed myself against him, hips against his thighs, welcoming that heat. There was nothing I wanted more than this.
“Michael,” the voice—or voices—said firmly, “you must stop now.”
Why couldn’t the voice just go away? I wanted to get closer to that heat, crawl into it, let it consume me. But with those words, he froze. Gently but firmly he untangled my arms from around him and backed away, not looking at me but at the ground.
Behind him, Arielle was furious.
“Is this your idea of being on duty? You were wide open. We could have easily had another breach,” she said, her voice still sounding choral. “If I wasn’t here, anything could have come through.”
Michael shook his head gravely. “I didn’t expect…”
“You were sent into the body of an eighteen-year-old male for a reason.”
He glared at her, his expression all at once wild, dark, and haunted. “The ultimate test?”
“For your own recovery,” she said. “You know you’re not being punished.”
They talked as though they were discussing some kind of science experiment and not the intimate experience we’d just had. Still reeling from the intensity of his kiss, I couldn’t help but think that if she hadn’t arrived, we might have enjoyed ourselves a little longer. What would have been so wrong with that? My heart sprinted in my chest, aching to be near him, and my body craved his touch. I was cold, so cold I started to tremble. I wanted—needed—him close to me. This was how an addict must feel. It was as though someone had just filled the needle and tapped it, about to plunge it into my veins, and then someone else came along and took it away.
Arielle gave Michael a stern look. “Your energy’s way too much for her. You’ve enthralled her.”
What did she mean, enthralled?
Michael clasped his hands behind his head and huffed out his breath. “Not on purpose.”
“That doesn’t matter. You know our laws are absolute. What if the others found out?”
As I listened to them speaking as though I wasn’t there, I couldn’t help but wonder how she’d found us and why she was telling him off. Did she want more than friendship from him? If she did, she had a funny way of showing it. My confusion must have shown on my face, because they both stopped talking and turned to me.
“It’s not how you think,” she said, her voice sounding more human. “I don’t feel the way you do for him, and I don’t disapprove of you, either.” She then turned back to Michael and said in a more musical voice, “She doesn’t know I’m your sponsor, does she? If you’re going to keep her around, you might want to think about telling her.”
“Hello, tell me what? I’m right here,” I exclaimed. “Why are you talking about me when I’m right here? It’s rude.”
Arielle looked sharply at Michael. “She can hear us?”
“Of course I can hear you,” I replied. “What do you mean you’re his sponsor?”
Arielle spoke to me in the same voice I’d heard her use at the movie theater. “You can hear me now, right?”
“Of course!”
“What about now?” she asked. Her lips didn’t move, but her voice was musical and clear. It was a different voice.
I nodded, my mind reeling. How can I be hearing her speak when her lips aren’t moving? I wanted to cry again.
“She can hear us telepathically,” she said out loud this time, and her serene, perfectly balanced face registered alarm. “I wonder how far along the network—”
“What’s going on? What network?” I asked. Their serious expressions were beginning to annoy me.
“You can hear our thoughts, Mia,” Michael said. “We’ve not known anyone who could do this before.”
“You’ve not known,” I said.
Looking concerned, Arielle took a step toward me. “Have you heard us before?”
“No,” I said quickly, then recalled the morning in the park, the flash of light. I’d heard something that morning too. “Once, maybe. After I was chased. But it was really staticky. I thought it was just a radio or something.”
“It’s clear now?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“People hear things when their adrenaline is up, like when they’re afraid, but having it come in so clearly…” She turned to Michael. “Another side effect of you kissing her. You have to be careful.”
“I am…” he began, but stopped at Arielle’s look. He ran his hands down his face and let out an exasperated sound. “Do you think its effect will wear off?”
“It better.” I let out my breath, trying not to panic. “Because this is a little too weird for me.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Arielle, a wry grin on her face. It was difficult to dislike her, even though everything female in me felt threatened.
“We should watch her carefully. I’ll keep an eye on her tonight, make sure she’s all right.”
Arielle frowned and a gust of wind blew tendrils of hair into her face. “No, Michael, I think I should watch her. You need to recover, too. You’ve both been impacted. You couldn’t even feel me coming.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said hastily.
“Will she be, if you’re around all night?”
With a sigh, he acceded and turned to me. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
We drove back in silence, not touching each other, not talking. The distance hung between us, palpable and heavy as a lead curtain. I tried to focus on the music instead, but it sounded harsh, so I turned it off.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling the car in front of my house. He didn’t look at me but at the dark clouds looming in the sky. Rain would come any minute.
“What?” I asked, biting my lip to keep my voice from wavering. “Sorry you kissed me?”
He reached a hand to touch me but let it drop. “Can’t you see? You could get hurt. Really hurt. I’m not good for you.”
I shook my head, not wanting to hear what he had to say next. “Please. Don’t.”
Turning to face me, he leaned against his car door and sighed, clearly upset. “The feeling that you couldn’t get enough—I put it there. I don’t even know how. I just wanted to be close.”
So did I. “I don’t see what’s wrong with—”
“It’s dangerous,” he warned, cutting me off. “Had we gone any further…” He stopped talking, but the look in his eyes spoke of anguish and terror and shame. “I don’t know how to control it.”
I didn’t understand all of what he was saying, but I knew him. I also knew how I felt, how I’d always felt for him. I’d wanted that kiss as much, if not more, than he had. “What if you could?”
“I can’t—”
Before he could finish what he was going to say, I leaned across the console and put my finger to his lips. He didn’t move but held my gaze, warily, as my finger traced the outline of his lips. When he raised a hand to my elbow, I thought he was going to stop me. But he didn’t, so I leaned in and kissed him. His body tensed. I pulled back. I could see the struggle behind his eyes, the war raging within him. I should have been afraid—of him, of what I was doing—but I couldn’t be. Instead, I kissed him again and felt him relax as his mouth responded to mine.