Running Hot

you? But we’ll get you past that, don’t you worry.”
He started to unfasten her jeans.
She flattened her hands against his upper chest. Her palms touched his rough, hairy skin. She realized he was wearing the grimy tank-style shirt that he’d had on earlier.
“Go ahead and struggle,” he said. “It’ll make things more fun.”
He tugged at her jeans.
“No,” she repeated. Her voice was still half strangled.
She knew a terrible sense of helplessness. She had no chance against him physically. He was too big and too strong and too aroused. Frantic, she pushed back at him with her hands and with her fully jacked aura.
As though it had been triggered by the threat, her new, rapidly developing talent flared higher than it ever had before. She felt the leap and pulse and flash of the invisible energy. She could not see the fierce veil that surrounded her—she had learned early on that individuals could not view their own auras, not even aura readers—but power could always be sensed. The effects were immediate and devastating to her attacker.
He jerked wildly, as though he had touched a live electrical wire. The scream of rage and fear was trapped in his throat. Seconds later he collapsed on top of her, a dead weight.
Her hands burned.

    “Grace.”
    Luther’s voice, laced with solid, reassuring command, brought her out of the dream. She awoke with a start, shivering. He pulled her against him, comforting her with his body and a gentling hand.
    “Sorry,” she said.
    “It’s okay.” He stroked the length of her spine. “I was tempted to calm your aura but the last time I tried that you didn’t appreciate it.”
    “No.” She hesitated. “I’d rather deal with the nightmares than feel that someone else is controlling me.”
    “Understood.”
    She huddled close. After a while she stopped trembling. Her breathing returned to normal. She exhaled slowly, sat up on the side of the bed and wrapped her arms around herself.
    “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m pretty screwed up, Luther. Are you sure you want to get involved with me?”
    “In case you haven’t figured it out, we’re already involved.” He grabbed his cane and made his way around the foot of the bed to sit beside her. Close but not quite touching. “And you aren’t the only one in this relationship who is a little screwed up. So what? How bad was the dream?”
    “You don’t want to know.”
    “Yes,” he said, “I do.”
    He had a right to know, she thought.
    “I told you that I was responsible for Martin Crocker’s death,” she said quietly. “But he wasn’t the first.”
    Luther said nothing. He just waited.
    “There was another man. When I was fourteen.”
    “While you were in the foster care system?”
    “Yes.” She unfolded her arms and looked at her hands. “He came to my room one night. Said he was going to make a woman out of me. His aura terrified me. I fought back instinctively with talent but I had only recently come into it. I didn’t know what I could do, what I was capable of. I didn’t have any control.”
    “You fought back and he died.”
    “He was leaning over me, touching me. I put my hands on his chest and shoved. ”
    “With your hands and the full energy of your aura.”
    “It was all instinct and panic on my part. I think he tried to scream but no sound came out. He just collapsed and died.” She closed her hands into small fists. “It was as if I’d touched a red-hot stove. But there were no marks on my palms. The pain faded rapidly. The worst was over within forty-eight hours. But four days later I was in a fast-food restaurant getting a slice of pizza. The clerk accidentally dropped the plastic plate. We both reached for it. Our hands collided. The burning sensation came back. Not nearly as strong but it hurt. I was terrified. I thought I’d been somehow marked for life.”
    He took one of her hands in his. “That was the first time you got sensitized?”
    She looked at his hand wrapped around hers, marveling anew at how good it felt to be able to touch and be touched.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “What did you do?” he asked. “Afterward?”
    She knew he wasn’t talking about the pizza incident. “After the monster collapsed on my bed, I packed the few things I owned, took the money out of his wallet and I ran.”
    “Smart.”
    “I was afraid I’d be blamed for his death.” She hesitated. “And, given that I actually was guilty, I didn’t think it would be a