alone like a wild mountain man had changed his mind. Justice had always been comfortable with his own company, but Tag was more social, and he’d needed . . . something.
Things had been good in Florida. Awesome compared to the cold isolation of Alaska. He’d had a decent social life that revolved around the bar where he worked, but he hadn’t had a love life. There’d been a few one-night stands, even a couple of month-long flings. But the second things had looked like they might get serious, he backed out of the relationships so fast he left skid marks. He couldn’t risk loving someone again.
Until Ian.
He’d tried to back out, but Ian hadn’t given up. Now he understood why Ian had been so persistent, but at the time, he’d believed Ian had sincerely cared for him. He’d been seduced with patience and pro-football tickets and Mystery Science Theater 3000 with homemade popcorn on the couch. Ian had seemed to know all of Tag’s favorites. Favorite movies. Favorite books. Favorite food.
And now Tag knew why Ian had known all of that. It had been his job to know.
Wind screamed through the trees, and the shed rattled. The door shifted, and Ian stepped inside, cloaked in the last rays of daylight. God, he was good-looking. Short, nearly platinum hair and ice-blue eyes that spoke of strong Nordic genes. Chiseled cheekbones. Perfectly shaped, lying lips.
“It’s fucking cold out.” His breath formed frost around his mouth as he propped a big shoulder against the wall as if he were a good friend just coming out to the deep freeze to chat. “Should have worn gloves. And a hat. And a fucking snowsuit.”
Taggart would have let him freeze, except he was cold too. So as much as he despised using his powers, had even sworn not to use them again, he reached deep into the piece of him he kept locked away and opened himself to his gift. For the span of a heartbeat, he hesitated, knowing that the moment he used his power he’d feel tainted. Evil. But guilt over his mother’s death was already a malevolent sludge in his veins, so really, what difference was this going to make?
He let loose, hating the buzz of energy surging through him as his magnetic ability charged the air. A moment later, the shed’s north side metal wall began to glow like a stove burner, and heat filled the space. Ruthlessly, Tag shut down his power.
“Shit, man,” Ian said softly. “I thought magneto-people could just manipulate metals.”
“That’s all I could do before Itor lab fucks strapped me to a table and shoved a needle into the part of my brain responsible for my ability.” He clenched his fists inside his coat pockets so hard they hurt. “While I was still awake.”
But hey, the tradeoff for the agony was that now he could “manipulate the free electrons in metal to create heat,” according to the Itor scientists who’d performed the procedure and then forced him to test his new talent. The fuckers.
Ian had the good grace to avert his gaze. Thank God he didn’t try to apologize. Tag would’ve beaten him with one of the skis at the back of the shed. Or better yet, the ax at the front of the shed.
“What about Justice?” Ian asked quietly. “What can he do?”
Tag shrugged. “He can draw and repel metal. Bend it with his mind. His ability was always stronger than mine, though.” But where Tag had made an effort to use his power sparingly, Justice had thrown his around like confetti. And if the knives on the counter sliding toward him were any indication, Justice hadn’t quite controlled his tendency to attract metal objects when his emotions ran hot.
“Helluva coincidence that two people with similar abilities grew up together,” Ian pointed out.
“Itor experimented on our mothers while they were pregnant.” He had no idea why he felt the need to bare his soul to the guy who’d done his best to destroy it, but hey, it wasn’t as if he had anything to lose. “They were given identical drugs and treatment,
Things had been good in Florida. Awesome compared to the cold isolation of Alaska. He’d had a decent social life that revolved around the bar where he worked, but he hadn’t had a love life. There’d been a few one-night stands, even a couple of month-long flings. But the second things had looked like they might get serious, he backed out of the relationships so fast he left skid marks. He couldn’t risk loving someone again.
Until Ian.
He’d tried to back out, but Ian hadn’t given up. Now he understood why Ian had been so persistent, but at the time, he’d believed Ian had sincerely cared for him. He’d been seduced with patience and pro-football tickets and Mystery Science Theater 3000 with homemade popcorn on the couch. Ian had seemed to know all of Tag’s favorites. Favorite movies. Favorite books. Favorite food.
And now Tag knew why Ian had known all of that. It had been his job to know.
Wind screamed through the trees, and the shed rattled. The door shifted, and Ian stepped inside, cloaked in the last rays of daylight. God, he was good-looking. Short, nearly platinum hair and ice-blue eyes that spoke of strong Nordic genes. Chiseled cheekbones. Perfectly shaped, lying lips.
“It’s fucking cold out.” His breath formed frost around his mouth as he propped a big shoulder against the wall as if he were a good friend just coming out to the deep freeze to chat. “Should have worn gloves. And a hat. And a fucking snowsuit.”
Taggart would have let him freeze, except he was cold too. So as much as he despised using his powers, had even sworn not to use them again, he reached deep into the piece of him he kept locked away and opened himself to his gift. For the span of a heartbeat, he hesitated, knowing that the moment he used his power he’d feel tainted. Evil. But guilt over his mother’s death was already a malevolent sludge in his veins, so really, what difference was this going to make?
He let loose, hating the buzz of energy surging through him as his magnetic ability charged the air. A moment later, the shed’s north side metal wall began to glow like a stove burner, and heat filled the space. Ruthlessly, Tag shut down his power.
“Shit, man,” Ian said softly. “I thought magneto-people could just manipulate metals.”
“That’s all I could do before Itor lab fucks strapped me to a table and shoved a needle into the part of my brain responsible for my ability.” He clenched his fists inside his coat pockets so hard they hurt. “While I was still awake.”
But hey, the tradeoff for the agony was that now he could “manipulate the free electrons in metal to create heat,” according to the Itor scientists who’d performed the procedure and then forced him to test his new talent. The fuckers.
Ian had the good grace to avert his gaze. Thank God he didn’t try to apologize. Tag would’ve beaten him with one of the skis at the back of the shed. Or better yet, the ax at the front of the shed.
“What about Justice?” Ian asked quietly. “What can he do?”
Tag shrugged. “He can draw and repel metal. Bend it with his mind. His ability was always stronger than mine, though.” But where Tag had made an effort to use his power sparingly, Justice had thrown his around like confetti. And if the knives on the counter sliding toward him were any indication, Justice hadn’t quite controlled his tendency to attract metal objects when his emotions ran hot.
“Helluva coincidence that two people with similar abilities grew up together,” Ian pointed out.
“Itor experimented on our mothers while they were pregnant.” He had no idea why he felt the need to bare his soul to the guy who’d done his best to destroy it, but hey, it wasn’t as if he had anything to lose. “They were given identical drugs and treatment,
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