Chapter 17
Kiara
Sorry, Kia, turns out I’m on call. Rain check?
Istare at my brother’s text, starting to panic, but put a hard stop to that before it can gain any traction and take a deep breath to center myself. Shit happens. Life sucks, and if you can’t pivot, it’ll suck you down with it.
“Walk me through the day your powers started acting up again,” I ask Stryker, shoving my problems away to deal with after work. This man is single-handedly funding the bills on the clinic this month, he deserves my undivided attention during our appointments.
“Like I said, there’s nothing worth noting.” He concentrates on the energy reader in his hand, scowling when he can’t maintain the 700 Watts goal for longer than fifteen seconds before it starts spiking and plummeting erratically.
“I finished up a bodyguard job for some trust fund princess that wanted to hit every concert and show in the tri-state area for a month. Came home exhausted and burned out as fuck, but no random power surges.” He rubs a hand over his jaw.
“Can’t say I had a reason to use my abilities the week after, so not sure if I actually used them or not.
But I know it wasn’t as crazy as it is now, randomly sparking off and blowing shit up without me drawing on the power first. Mostly spent it at home recharging, hanging out with my parents and avoiding my brother as much as possible before my next assignment, a simple event security job at a wedding.
It wasn’t until a couple of hours in that I first noticed a problem, and nothing weird happened leading up to that moment that I can recall. ”
The reading on the energy meter flatlines to a big fat zero and his fingers tighten around it before he hands it back abruptly, fighting the urge to crush it in frustration.
Closing his eyes, he takes several deep breaths, exhaling slowly.
When he opens them again, the frustration has been replaced by calm determination, and I respect him all the more for it.
“Give me a minute and I can go again.”
I can’t help but snort. “That’s what she said.”
He barks out a surprised laugh, tucks his hands in his pockets, and rocks back casually on his heels. “It’s getting near closing time. Are your mates going to be mad I’m keeping you?”
My smile drops. “I’m not bonded.”
Gee, thanks for the reminder.
He stiffens. “I didn’t think the bus ran this late?”
Warily, I scan the sudden tension in his posture.
He’s awfully interested in knowing if I’m expecting anyone, and it’s right at closing time.
If he wanted to try something, it’d be the perfect time.
Nobody would notice I was missing until tomorrow at the earliest, and that’s really only if my brother checks in since Stryker’s my only appointment for days.
I really don’t get that sixth sense of being in danger around him, though. Still…
“My brother’s picking me up,” I lie, testing the waters.
His breath whooshes out of his lungs, all the tension leaving him in a rush. Almost like he’s… relieved?
Men are weird.
Though, I’m not surprised. My brother also seems to think I’m a reckless idiot with no sense of self-preservation, diving into dangerous situations head first.
My abilities may be defective, but my instincts aren’t.
My patients can’t tell me what’s wrong, so I’ve become an expert on reading body language and honing my instincts to read a room before my brain even has time to assess the situation logically.
And right now? I know damn well that Stryker is a threat.
Anyone that looks at the man can see that he carries himself with the calm confidence of someone that’s seen the worst of humanity and came out the other side with the experience to kill a man fourty-seven different ways with his bare hands.
But I also know that he uses all that deadly energy to protect people.
He screams scary dog privileges, and it cements the thought I’d been mulling over risking as the right one.
“Give me your hand.”
He does so without hesitation and I close my eyes, mentally switching gears and reaching out with my secondary ability.
I try not to use it much anymore because the backlash is so much worse than when I’m healing, but I’m not any closer to diagnosing him now than I was three days ago.
The hard route may suck, but at least it keeps things interesting.
“What are you doing?” he asks, watching me curiously when the normal soothing sensation of my healing doesn’t appear for him.
Rather than answer, I step away and release a concentrated burst of his power, the electricity thrumming through my body and lighting up the nerve endings in my hand.
It’s not easy to manipulate; weaker than true lightning, but just as erratic.
All power has one thing in common though; it wants to be released.
Yet, Stryker’s? It seems to get almost bored of the energy reader, sparking off in search of the next nearest thing to play with.
I yelp as my phone shocks my thigh, hastily yanking it out of my pocket and dropping it on the ground. The screen cracks on the tile, and while a terrible part of me is relieved to see the stupid thing break, the other part groans at yet another problem getting added to my plate.
“What the hell?” Stryker breathes, staring at me in awe.
Awe. Not fear, and I know I made the right decision trusting him.
“You hadn’t heard? Mercy Ridge got a wave of mimics in about six months ago,” I chirp with faux-casualty, gritting my teeth as I pretend to search for something in the cabinet to hide the way my hands tremble as the veins turn black, the pain spreading from my fingertips to my elbow like acid.
I force myself to breathe steadily, covering up each shaky inhale by rustling things in the cabinet.
It’s a solid two minutes before I can pretend everything’s normal again, and my heart sinks.
I’m not sure if it’s because my mimic side is worse off than my healer one, Stryker’s electricity-based ability gave the backlash more power, or something else.
I’m not even sure if when it gets bad enough, it’ll render me completely powerless, or kill me. What I do know?
My timeline to save my mate just got cut in half.
“Mimics?” He frowns. “They’re a myth. A story parents tell kids to keep them from using their powers around humans, or else a mimic will steal them away for good.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, no. Abridged version? People suck. Once upon a time, mimics were hunted down because our bonded mates get a huge power boost, so we used to be kept like concubines, battery edition. Not close enough to borrow their mates’ abilities, and were slapped with power-blocking collars when they were toted out for an appearance or bang session.
Up until Elder Naomi killed the warlord that captured her, freed the other mimics in the camp, and fled the country with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
“They established the underground compound I was raised in as a refuge for mimics to flock to, rescuing abandoned myst orphans to keep things from getting incesty and help provide security that could go out into the real world for supplies and rescue missions. Over the years, the truth was twisted as legends tend to. We can’t steal a myst’s power permanently, only borrow it for a short while.
But the fear works as an added layer of protection to give us a chance to escape scary situations sometimes, so we haven’t really tried to squash the rumors. ”
As he stares at me, mouth agape, I grimace. “I tend not to use the ability often, don’t worry. My mimic side is… weaker than the healing powers I got from my dad, but it did give me some more insight into your problem.”
“Hold the fuck up.” Stryker lifts his hand, closing his eyes and taking a long, slow inhale, nostrils flared and jaw tightly clenched.
When he opens them again, his stormy gaze pins me in place with a fierce look.
“You’re telling me that not only are you a female center and the most impressive healer I’ve ever heard of, but you’re also a mimic?
Which, apparently, paints a massive target on your back, and you just fucking told me? !”
I pick up my cracked phone off the ground, inspecting the damage.
“Yeah, pretty much. Bright side of being a unicorn, you learn pretty quickly that everyone is a threat under the right conditions. All it takes is forcing a good person into a desperate position and they’ll do terrible things to save themselves or someone they love. ”
Buzzing my lips in an annoyed exhale, I tuck my broken phone back in my pocket.
“Though, it makes it pretty easy to clock the decent people from the shitty ones. But just for fun, let’s say I’m wrong.
What are you gonna do? Force-bond me for the power boost?
Talk about adding fuel to the fire.” I snort.
“The way yours are already acting up, it'd probably make your heart explode.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back.
What would happen if I bonded the feral shifter I have hidden away?
Would it ground him, give him something to hold onto to remind himself that he’s human?
Or would it make everything ten times worse, my backlash problem spreading to poison him too?
Maybe my lucky streak will continue and we’ll both go feral. Live off the land until we go out in a blaze of glory and bloodshed. If I’m going to be homeless, at least then it’d be a wild ride instead of just straight up depressing.
“You act like your safety is a joke,” he growls, white-knuckling the edge of the exam table.
“Safety is an illusion. My parents lived their entire lives in hiding, and were killed anyway. I’d rather see what life has to offer before it fucks me over.”