Light Me Up (The Obsidian Files #4)

Chapter 1

The wine was great, but it didn’t take the edge off Noah Gallagher’s razor-wire tension. Caro, his bride, was giving him that worried look from across the re staurant table.

Damn. There was no off-switch for the battle program ragi ng in his head.

He wanted everything to be perfect for Caro. Including himself. Good goddamn luck with that. After the shitshow they’d barely survived a couple months ago, he was wound up even tighter than he’d been pre-Caro, which was really sa ying something.

Now it was all about her. Protecting her, defending her, pleasing her. His rebel band of mutant misfits back home were laughing at him, but he was too in love to care. He was the owner and CEO of Angel Industries, and the hundred-million-dollar biomed company he’d founded didn’t require his constant presence onsite. Besides, he’d organized his life so that he ran the show. Ever ywhere. Always.

But not with Caro. With her, all bets were off. She was fascinating, mysterious, brilliant. Bad-ass in every way. He was humbled by her. Dazzled. His Obsidian-modified eyesight saw and analyzed people’s energy auras, and Caro’s shifting clouds of color mesmerized him. Next he’d be taming a goddamn unicorn f or her to ride.

Shit. He couldn’t afford to be giddy. Couldn’t stop it either.

He couldn’t dial down the hyper-vigilance, although everything here seemed OK…so far. The bistro Caro had chosen was hidden away in the medieval Trastevere district of Rome. Quaint, picturesque. He sat with his back to a stone wall painted an earthy terra-cotta color, blooming honeysuckle draping down so low the flowers practically tickled his shoulders.

Their corner table by the burbling fountain kept other diners at a safe distance. Caro had been charmed by the bronze nymph pouring water over the mosaic bowl. Copper lanterns flickered on the high garden walls, casting complicated decorative shadows. Candles glowed on the table. Very romantic. Good thing no one was hiding in the shadows. He was sure of it. He’d checked. More than once.

They’d fueled up on amazing spaghetti carbonara, then a plate of delicious local cheeses and fresh fruit. The waiter had just delivered Caro’s slice of ricotta cheesecake flavored faintly with orange. All excellent. There was nothi ng not to like.

He should be relaxed, mellow. Licking his chops at what the night might bring. Feeling smug for actually getting Caro to marry him, even after all the crazy shit that happened to them. Even after she learned the startling t ruth about him.

It still blew his mind that she’d said yes. It probabl y always would.

But he knew better than to take good things for granted. He was going to show Caro an amazing time in Europe. He meant to indulge her slightest whim. Only the best for his lady. Every hotel, every meal, every shopping binge, every experience had to b e fucking epic.

He had no time to get data-slammed by programming permanently installed in his head. Bullet trajectories, facial-recog checks, threat assessments, a constant stream of kill plans—they buzzed in there like angry wasps. None of it had anything to do with her. It wasn’t remotely fucking fair that she had to deal with it . On any level.

He tried to hide it, but he couldn’t. Not from Caro. It stressed her out, too, though she was playing it cool right now.

But he wasn’t. Which drove home just how damaged he was by the creepy techno-shit done to him years ago in the Midlands labs. Genetic mods, cybernetic implants, brain stimulation. In his own particular case, aggressive ocul ar enhancement.

Augmented visual processing, otherwis e known as AVP.

The better to see you with, my dear. Now that he had Caro to look at, his turbocharged AVP was finally good for something he gav e a shit about.

Caro looked smoking hot in the dark blue dress he’d bought for her in Paris. Stretchy, silky fabric lovingly crisscrossed over her beautiful tits. His latest gift, a large diamond pendant, sparkled at the hollow at her throat. The diamond and sapphire engagement ring he’d given her glittered on one hand, her wedding band glowed softly on the other. He loved the way they looked on her s lender fingers.

Her big, gorgeous gray-green eyes gleamed as she studied him. Her lips were full and red, curved by a cautious hint of a smile as she brushed back a lock of long, curly dark hair lifted by the breeze.

He wanted to reach across the table and stroke her face, just to remind his fingertips of the creamy fine, hot smoothness of her skin. To assure himself that she was real. This whole thing was real.

If he managed not to torpedo it with his bizarre modifica tions, that is.

He pushed the thought away and focused on the dress, remembering how the soft fabric yielded to his hands and mouth when he caressed the silken warmth of her breasts. The dress was holding up well so far. So it should, considering what he ’d paid for it.

The waiter stopped at his elbow, startling Noah out of his erotic reverie and zinging him into full ba ttle readiness—

No. Breathe. He forced himself to nod courteously to the waiter, who calmly refilled Noah’s wine glass. For a split second, the guy’s appreciative gaze dropped to Caro’s cleavage. Then he moved on to another table.

Noah’s phone hummed in his pocket. Caro’s eyes flicked toward it. “Hannah again?”

So she knew his ringtones. He didn’t want to answer. His relationship with his little sister Hannah was…well…complicated was one way to put it.

“I’ll see what she wants l ater,” he said.

“It’s the fifth time,” she observed. “Maybe you should answer.”

“I already know why she’s calling,” Noah said. “I read all the texts. She’s guilt-tripping me about not rushing to Asa’s bedside. And for not racing home to see Luke now that he’s final ly been found.”

Caro’s graceful dark brows rose. “Family’s important,” she said. “No one knows that be tter than you.”

Noah grunted. “Luke’s not going anywhere. I talked to him. He’s doing great. He’s madly in love with that woman he met, Dani LaSalle. And he’s feeling no pain. I talked to Asa, too, several times. He’ll be released from the hospital soon. There’s no rush. Fo r any of them.”

“Maybe not.” Caro took a bite of her dessert and considered his words as she savored it. “But I get why Hannah was scared for him. Bullet to the abdomen, nicked liver, massive internal bleeding. It was touch and g o for a while.”

“He’ll be fine,” Noah repeated, more forcefully. Thinking about Asa at death’s door was the last thing he wanted to do on his honeymoon. His brother was a goddamn idiot, mixing himself up in Obsidian business. Asa wasn’t Midlands-modified, hadn’t been hardwired, didn’t have advanced sensory processing to protect him.

What the fuck had Asa been thinking, going off with the team on a rescue mission?

In fact, Noah was pissed at the entire crowd. They’d gotten into all kinds of near-lethal trouble since he’d left, as if to punish him for taking time away. First Zade and Simone almost got themselves killed, and he and Caro had ended up rushing back home for that whole drama. Then, on their second honeymoon attempt, Luke finally emerged from his nerve-rattling year of being MIA. Just in time for a huge firefight involving one and all, in which Asa had ended up gut-shot, dangling from a godd amn helicopter.

The fuck? Couldn’t they all just keep their heads down and behave? Just for a few weeks? Was that so much to ask?

“I’ll talk to them all later,” he said again. “They just keep pressuring me to make a decision about Brenner.”

A shadow flashed over Caro’s face at the mention of Brenner, the Obsidian slave soldier cruelly exploited by their nemesis, Mark Olund. They’d won their battle with Mark a few weeks ago—only barely. Noah, Caro, and the rest of his team survived. The same couldn’t be said for Mark’s kidnapped Obsidian slave soldiers.

Four had died. The fifth, Brenner, ended up comatose, cared for at Asa’s secret mountain fortress until some weeks ago. Until he woke up…and joi ned their team.

“You can’t put Hannah off forever.” Caro’s voice was neutral, but he sensed her disapproval. If he hadn’t been wearing full-protection shield contact lenses, he’d be able to see it in the shifting arrays of colors and patterns that pulsed around her body. Her energy signatures. Sigs, he called them.

Caro’s sig was special. Unique. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He didn’t appreciate having a grim scroll of combat data racing across his field of vision while he w as admiring it.

She forked up a bite of the dessert and held it out, a seductive challen ge in her eyes.

“Try this,” she commanded him. “It’s amazing.”

He ate it, but was too busy monitoring the positions of everyone in the room to actually taste it. Diners, waiters, busboys, cashier. He’d run background checks on everyone already. Had to, for anyone in the same room as his wife for any period of time.

Yeah, it was paranoid overkill. He knew it, owned it. It c hanged nothing.

“Noah,” Caro said. “You’re d oing it again.”

He went on the defensive . “Doing what?”

“I feel your AVP going full bore. All the time.”

“And?” He tried not to sound belligerent, with limited success. “So? What if it is?”

“Nothing.” She took another bite, closing her eyes with sensual bliss. “You can take a rest,” she told him. “Nobody’s gunning for us here. Relax. At least try.”

“I do try,” he said stiffly. “And I do relax. In the suite.”

Their hotel prepared excellent food and Caro was a good sport about ordering room service, knowing how badly he needed the down time. But that didn’t change the fact that she loved wandering around Rome, trying the little out-of-the-way places recommended by offbeat blogs and travel guides.

He had to bite a whole lot of bullets, but he hung in there.

“Right,” she said wryly. “With the blinds down. While you peer through the cracks. You’re on red alert all the time.”

He hated being the one who’d put that worried look on her face. “Caro, look. I’m stimmed up to be hyper-vigilant. I’d turn it o ff if I could.”

She propped her chin on her hand, studying him with narrowed eyes, like he was a puzzle she fully intended to figure out. “There must be a way.”

Hell. She’d just handed it to him. “Well, uh…now that y ou mention it…”

She laughed at his obvious lustful eagerness. “Of course, there’s that. You insatiable sex god, you. But we can’t always be rolling around in bed.”

“We can’t?” God, that smile just got him going. “I can tone it down, if you want,” he offered. “The insatiable sex. If I’m overdoing it. Say the word.”

“Like hell. I love it all. I don’t want it toned down, an d you know it.”

“Yeah? Then I’m in. Strip me bare. Do n’t ever stop.”

She said nothing, just swept a heavy lock of curling hair off her face, though the curls tumbled promptly back again. She reached out, trailed her fingers in the flow from the nymph fountain and flicked a few drops at him. “Cool down,” s he said softly.

“Can’t. Your fault.” That secret smile of hers just stirred him up from someplace so deep, he couldn’t even hope to control it. He couldn’t block it out or b reathe it down.

Ironic. Control was his big thing. It meant the difference between survival and disaster. Always had. But Caro blew his control to hell and gone.

He fought to reclaim it. They were in a crowded restaurant and all he wanted was to kiss her madly. Any kind of kiss. From just feeling her cheek with his lips to sensual neck nibbles to ravenously taking her willing mouth and everything amazing that followed. He could n’t get enough.

He was rock hard and aching now, and they still had the walk back through Trastevere and over the Sisto Bridge before them. He just had to grit his te eth and suffer.

“Do you want coffee before we go?” she asked, all innocence. “Or another taste of this creamy, tangy, amazing cheesecake before it disappears forev er? Last call.”

“I’m all done with the food part of the evening,” h e informed her.

He gestured for the check and they left soon after, strolling on the narrow, cobblestoned streets. Wending their way through the labyrinth of old Rome on a warm spring evening with Caro by his side was a prelude to what they both were silently craving. Waiting was its own sweet, agonizing pleasure. But not f or much longer.

On they went. Caro’s light handclasp, the now-and-then pressure of her sinuous body against his as she leaned against him was crazy sexy.

And still.

He scanned every door, every window. Registered every knowing glance, every guy who checked Caro out. Sized up each tourist or street musician as a potential hostile. Peered up through the fluttering laundry strung back and forth over the narrow streets, scanning rooftops and garden terraces, shuttered windows and ornate balconi es for snipers.

Caro took it all in, slowing down to study a few of the small religious shrines that they passed, admiring the bold graffiti painted onto the metal sliding doors of closed businesses. Noah let go of her hand, crossing in back of her to clasp her other hand.

“Keeping my dominant hand free,” he said, in answer to her ques tioning glance.

She frowned at him. “Why? For what? Are you wea ring a weapon?”

He let out a harsh laugh under his breath. “Caro. I am a weapon.”

Literally true, if also an evasion. There was a knife strapped to his c alf, after all.

She rolled her eyes and glanced pointedly down at his leg. “Oh please,” she said. “Get over yourself.”

OK, whatever. She was completely on to him. He’d just have to ge t used to that.

They reached Ponte Sisto, and Caro leaned over the stonework of the bridge to look down at the gleaming dark water of the river below. She had that worr ied look again.

He leaned closer to her. “Caro,” he said. “Give me a break. I have to be careful. We’re spending time in public places. Tourists are posting photos and videos all over social media that might include us. Facial recognition software could give us away. I hav e to be ready.”

She shook her head, her eyes rebellious. “I just wish you could take a break.”

“Do I look like I’m depriving myself? I’m dragging you back to the hotel where I intend to drag you into my vortex of savage lust. What more cou ld a guy want?”

“I’m not talking about sex, Noah. But I wish there was someplace where your guard could come d own. For real.”

“There is,” he said with alacri ty. “With you.”

She slanted him a wary glance. “Aw,” she said. “That’s sweet.”

“Not really,” he said. “Just the truth. Only time it ever has. And believe me. I’m no t complaining.”

He took her hand again, and they got moving, walking in silence after they cro ssed the river.

Caro squeezed his hand. “So how much longer do you want to stay in Rome?”

“You tell me,” he replied. “How much longe r do you need?”

“Dangerous question. I could spend months here looking at all the glorious art and architecture. There’s so much to see.” The expression on his face made her smile. “But I won’t,” she assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“It’s OK,” he said, stoically. “ I can take it.”

And he could. Truth was, Noah genuinely liked looking at art. Considerably more than most guys did. He collected art himself. Even created some of his own, if his animal carvings could be counted. But nothing could have prepared him for the kind of intense over-the-top art worship that Caro had in mind once they got to Europe.

Her every wish was his command, though. She was a goddess. She’d been through hell on earth, and she’d fought back the powers of darkness like a boss. She deserved to be indulged for as long as she fucking felt like it. He was fully committed to t hat enterprise.

His survival technique, when he’d had enough of paintings and frescoes and sculptures and yikes, gift shops, was as simple as it was effective. He just gazed at Caro while she wandered through museums, churches, palaces. She was particularly beautiful when she was looking at stuff that she thought was beautiful. He loved the way her eyes shone, the slowly revolving mantle of rainbow colors that fluctua ted around her.

There was only so much medieval art he could look at in a given day, but he could look at her grooving on it all for-fucking-ever without getting tired.

Caro slowed down as they strolled past the Trevi Fountain. The massive sculptures of sea horses and mythical water gods were illuminated by glowing lamps that cast glimmering liquid shadows over the surrounding buildings. The effect was like a huge energy sig. Caro gazed around the square as the breeze lifted her dark clo ud of ringlets.

He leaned down, on impulse. Kissed her swiftly and hungrily, savoring the flavor of her lips, her silken texture. A hint of the wine they’d shared.

She vibrated with emotion in his arms, pressing against him. He slid his hand up the warm curve of her back, and his calluses snagged over the fine fabric as he gripped her waist. “Let’s get back to the hotel,” he said thickly. “ Now. ”

Almost there. They headed up the Spanish Steps at a swift clip. He had to exert all his willpower to not drag her at a sprint like a s ex-crazed lout.

She didn’t have th e shoes for it.