“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.
“I don’t know. I’m precise and fast because I work at it. I don’t know if there are any other GhostWalkers working on the same things.”
His voice was always so matter-of-fact. So calm. She watched the storm as it drifted away, leaving her feeling a little drained after the fifteen minutes of nail-biting fright. Rubin, however, looked as cool as ever.
“You do know that you saved Chief Petty Officer Harris Ledes’s life, Jonquille. You operated on him with Wyatt assisting you, and you saved that man’s life.”
There was both admiration and respect in Rubin’s voice, and she couldn’t help feeling some pride in herself. It had been a long and exhausting job. She’d had a blueprint to work off of. His body hadn’t presented the exact same problem as those in Sean’s unit, but she knew what she was doing and at least was familiar with what she had to do. Wyatt was shocked and a little horrified by the mixture of parts that didn’t fit. Still, he’d stuck with her and in the end, he knew so much about anatomy he’d been more of a help than the medical books she’d memorized.
“I was lucky I’d been able to work on the two in Sean’s crew.”
“And you saved the other one, Sergeant Major Brick Zion. You took care of the others with the healers and then helped me. You certainly shouldered more than your fair share of work, Jonquille. I’d say your gift is quite strong.”
She gave him a small smile. She loved healing. It felt like such an accomplishment. As if she was actually making a contribution instead of reading about herbs or plants that could aid others. Sometimes her hands used to burn when she was around people and she hadn’t been able to do anything. Now she could. Wyatt had helped her so much. Everyone had. Draden. Ezekiel. Each person who reached out to help one of the sick men that she worked on, or that they worked on with her, taught her something new. They were generous about imparting knowledge. That was the other thing: Not only did she have a family, she felt a part of something. Rubin had given her the GhostWalkers.
“Perhaps we can say it’s getting there. I love that it is, Rubin. I love that I have all of this. The house. Diego. The GhostWalkers. My ability to help others through healing. What really matters to me is you. Having you.”
She went to him because she didn’t want him to get up and she knew that he would. Rubin was always the gentleman—unless he was the ruthless predator. She stood between his thighs and framed his face with her hands, looking into his dark eyes. Her heart turned over. This man.
“Kiss me, Lightning Bug,” he murmured. “Right now. Kiss me. Sit on my lap and kiss me.”
His hands urged her to straddle him. It was easy enough. She was small, and her legs fit under the wooden arms of the rocking chair. She slid her arms around his neck and lifted her face to his. She’d give him anything. Kissing was like lighting the world on fire. An explosion. Their lips came together, soft at first, just a few touches, brushing gently to set off the butterflies, and then she opened her mouth to his. The electrical charges that swirled in her body, growing hotter and more aggressive, dragged at the vast amounts of power produced in him so they came together in a fiery collision.
Sparks rained down like fire all around them. Red and orange. Gold and white. The fireflies zipped like magical beings around both of them, lighting the darkening sky. But it was the fire spreading through her body, white hot and flowing like lava through her veins, that was all she could concentrate on.
Rubin’s arms pulled her into him, tightened around her, strong, the way he was, protective, just like him, his mouth devouring her, taking over, feeding the lightning even more fuel, more energy, so they both went up in flames. The porch glowed with red and orange, while gold and white wound around them in wild electrical currents.
“Oh, for the love of St. Peter. Knock it off you two before you burn down the house. Seriously, Rubin, if you don’t act in the least responsibly, I’m dumping both your asses in the river. Both of you.”