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“I don’t know what happened. I just lost it. Every emotion inside me just seemed to explode. The next thing I knew, glass vials were shattering, and the Zodius soldiers, Tad included, were on the ground.”

She’s shaking and not from withdrawal. Meanwhile I’m relieved as fuck that Tad didn’t touch her.

I press my hand to her cheek. “Let me help. Please don’t run from me.”

“I’m confused,” she confesses. “And scared, Jensen.”

“You have every right to be both, but I promise you. I will never hurt you. I will protect you. I will help you.”

“I don’t know how you can help me. I can’t control what’s happening.” She motions to the room, and everything that was in the air, is now on the ground. “See? I didn’t make that happen. Or I did—clearly, I did—but not intentionally. I can’t control any of this,” she adds. “Not the peace, not the war. I’m so tired of not being able to control anything that’s happening to me.”

The absolute angst in her voice tells me she’s telling the truth. I believe her completely. “Maybe we can control things together.” I lace my fingers in her hair and cover her soft lips with mine. Redirecting her emotions, testing the effect, because I want to—damn it, I want to in a bad way. I don’t bother with coaxing and prodding. I’m looking for fast and hard, lust that consumes, that leaves no room for anything else—intense, passionate, hungry. And so, I taste her deeply, with sensual strokes of my tongue, drawing her to the place we were in that bed, a place where everything outside the moment disappears.

Stiff and unyielding for only a moment, her balled fist slowly opens, splaying along my biceps, as if she means to push me away…to resist. But she doesn’t resist, nor does she push me away. A soft sound escapes her lips, pouring into my mouth, a sound part weak protest, part moan.

I ease back slightly from the kiss, tenderly brush my lips over hers, before delving deeper…this time with a possessive slant of my mouth that draws her further into the kiss. This time, the man in me demands her response. And she gives it to me, body melting into mine, melting until we’re one. Until she becomes the kiss, as I do. The moment this complete abandon overcomes her, she moans again, soft, sensual, willing. Desire coils in my stomach, tightens my body, but I will myself to check it, will myself to remember the purpose of this kiss. Another long stroke of my tongue, a deep taste of sweetness, and I force myself to tear my mouth from hers and turn her in my arms to see the room.

Chapter eight

Layla

Istare at the aftermath of my emotions, the room in shambles, as if a small tornado has swept through, leaving only remnants of its destruction behind. Chairs rest on their backs, the Las Vegas picture speared on one steel leg; the table is turned over. Pillows are on the floor. The single lamp broken. But Jensen’s kiss calmed that storm. How can a kiss that stirs such intense passion actually calm the erratic telekinetic ability I’ve developed? But it did. Everything in the room is as it should be—on the floor. Well, not where it should be exactly. The place is a mess.

“It’s about focus,” Jensen advises from behind me. “Learning to tap into a particular part of your psyche that creates the telekinesis.”

I whirl around to face him. “That’s why you kissed me? To redirect my focus? To prove a point?” My voice trembles and I’m not sure why this upsets me so much. I’m all but choking on my own words—I can’t get them out—when I realize he’s standing right in front of me, close—so close—I’m practically back in his arms. I can see the light dusting of a new beard that brushed my cheeks moments before, see the teal of his eyes, the light brown lashes framing them like a beautiful fan. We stare at one another. We seem to be getting good at that.

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” he assures me, his voice low, gravelly. Sexy. “And for the record, I was asleep when what happened in the bed started. By the time I realized it wasn’t a dream, you were seconds behind me, realizing the same thing. I want you willing or not at all.”

He wants me. His bold confirmation whispers through my body and makes certain intimate parts tingle. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

He pulls me to him and kisses me, a brush of lips over mine. “You don’t have to say anything, and I won’t do that again unless you ask me to.” He pats my backside and sets me away from him, walking to the bed and grabbing his shirt from the floor. “Why don’t you write down the personal items you want from your place, and I’ll send someone to pick them up?” He snatches a pillow from the floor and tosses it to the bed. “If we can find a pen and paper in this mess.” He pulls open the nightstand to look inside and nonchalantly asks over his shoulder, “Did I mention the GTECHs can windwalk? It makes for speedy service. We can probably have your things here by the time you finish showering.”

I blink, surprised, and excited. “Oh please, yes. I would kill for some of my own things right now. And a shower? A little piece of heaven.” I pause. “Wait. Did you say windwalk? What does that mean?”

“It’s a bit like thinking yourself from one place to the other,” he explains, closing the distance between us again and offering me his T-shirt. “I can’t find yours. And while I have nothing against you running around the room in only your bra, it’s distracting.”

My heart flutters with his words. I can’t even remember what I asked him. I reach for the shirt, the idea of wearing it feels incredibly, wonderfully intimate.

He holds onto it and my hand. “What you said about me having a GTECH power that allowed me to mess with your dreams, or your mind, or even your body—I don’t have any of those abilities, and I wouldn’t use them on you if I did.” There’s a warm promise in those words. That warmth washes over me and speaks more than his words. There isn’t a GTECH inside Zodius City who possesses such gentleness as I feel in this man. Right or wrong, foolish as it might be, I’m going with my instincts. I trust Jensen.

His gaze lingers on my swollen mouth, as if he’s thinking of the kiss we just shared, and it’s all I can do not to touch my lips. “I believe you,” I dare, summoning the courage to ask the question I so need answered. “Why don’t you pass out when the others do?”

He goes stone still, his hand still covering mine, his expression indiscernible. “Maybe you have more skill than you realize, and you choose to protect me.” He smiles, the tension fading, almost as if I imagined it. “And you like kissing me.” His hand falls away from the shirt.

Hiding my smile, I turn away from him, not about to admit that I do indeed like kissing him and that his logic actually makes a bit of sense. With a quick tug, I slide the shirt over my head. It smells spicy and masculine like him. Hugging the shirt to me, I tuck the vials of ICE in my palm and to my side. “Back to windwalking. Thinking yourself from here to there? What does that mean?”

He rights the wobbly table, turning it right side up, and at least for a moment, I don’t want to think about how it got that way, but rather how deliciously his muscles flex with the action. “Pretty much what it implies,” he explains, and I’ve nearly forgotten what I asked. “We fade into the wind and hitch a ride. It’s fast and efficient.”

Windwalking.

That’s what we’re talking about.

“That sounds impossible,” I hold up a hand. “Though I’m not questioning it being true. I’m already living in a bizarre world. Still…I mean…it sounds crazy.”

He reaches into the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. “So do a lot of things that are now true. And it comes in handy.” He closes the small space between us and offers me the water. “Drink. You have to be dehydrated and hungry. I’ll get you food while you shower.”

“Thank you.” I accept the water, only to have him hold onto it as he had the shirt..