Feel Read online

  “On a small ranch just outside of Fairfield, California,” he replies, equally excited. “The house is small, but it’s secluded. My closest neighbor is a mile away.” He turns that sweet, sexy grin on me, “Too far away for you to feel, pretty girl.”

  If any part of me was left broken, he just fixed it. More damn tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. “You were thinking about me when you picked your home?”

  “Everything I’ve done has been with you being first in my mind. Where I lived could never be home if I thought that you couldn’t be completely who you are. Even though you weren’t actually there, you were still a part of me. I wanted you to have a good life, but I always held onto the hope that meant I would be involved in making it good again someday.”

  There are words jumbling in my head that I want to say but I can’t seem to put them together and push them out of my mouth. An amazing thing about Jensen and me is how words aren’t needed all the time. This is one of them. I can tell he knows just how much I love him and appreciate who he is with me. How he is with me. What he just said meant everything, and he knows that, too. I can feel it–not with special powers or psychic voodoo–but with his gentleness, respect, and the love in his touch as he wipes my tears away.

  Jensen gives me a few minutes to gather my emotions before he slides his hand down my leg, squeezing my knee. “I can’t wait to take you home.”

  I hear how there’s so much more meaning in his voice than simply just the words telling me he wants to show me where he lives. “And I can’t wait for you to take me home.”

  “When do you think your classes will start again?”

  “I don’t know.” I’m sure it will be at least a week before they do, if not longer. I’m also sure that I don’t want to go back there. I know I won’t face questions because there’s no one left who knew about the premonitions. Bailey and Kim just think I suffer from nightmares; I never said what they were about. “I’m thinking about transferring to a different college to finish out my last year. One that has music classes along with a Financial Analyst degree.” I pause, taking a deep breath, “One that’s close to you.”

  “I think that’s the best answer you could have possibly given,” he states in a low voice, trying to choke back his own emotions spilling through.

  “Just wait until Andy hears. You’ll be changing your mind as soon as he starts whining about me being around,” I joke…well, partly. Another question hits me, “How did you find out about Andy’s ability?”

  Jensen bursts out laughing, “When he had a complete meltdown one evening after I came back to the garage apartment. He was frustrated as hell and used ingeniously colorful language when he went off on me, stating he can never tell where I’m at. The first thought that ran through my head was how I just got myself into some stalker bro-mance situation with how he was going all crazy by not knowing where I was at all the time, but then I picked up on how his frustration resembled the same frustration as all the people Dad had to direct their powers full-force on me and nothing happened, because I was immune.”

  Jensen glances at me, then in the rearview mirror. “It didn’t take much prying for him to tell me what he can do. Actually, there’s a group of friends who have different powers. One of Andy’s cousins and a few others, like Amira, who met either through social sites for people with similar abilities, or by word of mouth.” He shrugs his shoulder and chuckles, “It’s kind of like those cliques in high school…just with more seriously screwed-up issues.”

  My head can’t handle trying to fathom meeting more people like me right now so I sink against my seat and stare outside. Rain lightly glistens the windshield before it begins falling harder, hitting the glass in large, peaceful drops. I’ve always loved the rain. I even love storms, if no damage is done. There’s just something about the power behind the force of lightening and wind that’s strangely comforting. Maybe it’s because everyone scatters in a storm and they take their emotions with them. After a few minutes of the drops splattering against the glass like a lullaby, I’m barely keeping my eyes open.

  “There’s another mat back there. Why don’t you get some sleep, Saige?”

  I start to open my mouth to protest, but a yawn escapes instead.

  Jensen glances at me and grins wickedly, “Besides, if you fall asleep up here, with your shoes off and those sexy bare feet tangled under your long legs, my hand may have to explore that gorgeous body of yours, which isn’t exactly conducive to safe driving.”

  “Oh, hell no,” I laugh. “I want to be awake every time those fingers touch me. And, just so you know, I plan on doing a lot of touching you very soon. All of you.”

  Jensen pulls me to his lips and I feel his grin widen against my mouth when he kisses me, leaving me aching to feel more of those talented lips. “Get your cute ass back there before I pull this van over.”

  “Again, you’re not giving me any incentive to do as you say when you make risqué sounding threats like that. I think you should pull the van over and make good on your promise.”

  “I love you, Saige Colewood,” Jensen grabs my waist and pulls me back to him, giving me a kiss that I know isn’t conducive to safe driving.

  Holy crap, his kisses own every last piece of me from the electricity sizzling up my spine to the pool of heat between my thighs, all the way down to the tingling zing in my toes. Jensen makes me feel what I always thought a woman should feel like, loved, respected, cared for, and built up to take on the world. “I love you, too.”

  Grabbing the mat, I lay it on the floor in the back of the van and put a blanket over it before lying down. Andy is crashed out to my right and I lie with my arms folded under my head, trying to block out why I’m in this van and focus only on finding Jensen again. The rain pelts harder against the metal roof and I drift to sleep.

  Flashes of blinding light burst inside my head, startling me awake, but the premonition doesn’t stop. My vision is blurred as I try to focus. Images spin wildly. They are spinning so fast, I can’t see. Nausea churns in my stomach and bile rises in my throat. I roll to my knees and grapple for the wall, leaning my heavy body against it when my hands hit the solid metal. The explosion erupts, engulfing my vision and sending a violent ringing in my ears. Everything turns a dark gray before glimmers of rubble, twisted metal, and broken bricks bombard me…then I see the people in the images. Jensen’s father, mother, and Jackson. My stomach twists into excruciating knots and I sink until I’m crouched, rocking on my heels with my hands squeezing either side of my head. The air around me vanishes. I can’t breathe. My nails try to dig into the cold metal as I shake my head, trying to separate myself from the vision so I can help Jensen’s family.

  The roof collapses, caving and splintering into pieces of sharp shrapnel falling on top of Jensen’s father. “N-no,” I rasp breathlessly. Blood begins to pool underneath my fingernails as I rake them against the wall, watching the horror flashing shots of hell in front of me. Jensen’s two story brick home is reduced to a smoldering debris. Tattered beams and a smoky haze cloud my sight. I gasp, trying to swallow air. I feel their pain, the air seeping from their lungs, and I’m helpless to stop any of it. No, no no. Please, no!

  Pieces of ceiling, brick, and metal continue to crumble, falling around them as they remain trapped. Dizziness joins the torment as I try to scream. No sound comes out. Images of Jackson trying to manipulate the rubble surrounding them consumes my mind. Using all my strength, I fight like hell to break free from the vision, but there’s a hold, something keeping me trapped. Despair stabs me with its cold poison and I know who is holding me there. Opening my mouth, I try to suck in air, but nothing happens. Panic begins its maddening frenzy as I watch Jackson doing the same before he stops, slowly lifting his head until his eyes pierce me. They are shaped like Jensen’s but Jackson’s are almost a clear blue. If my air wasn’t already gone, Jackson looking straight at me with those clear eyes darkening with agony would knock my breath away. Feeling faint, I’m confuse
d about the thoughts that aren’t mine invading my head. My scalp flames from the grip of my hands twisting my hair, trying to concentrate on the pieces of information that come in broken, scattered snippets from Jackson until he’s too weak from the lack of oxygen to send any more.

  It seems like hours have passed, but it’s only been a little over a minute since the explosion. His father gasps, his lungs filling with putrid smoke instead of desperately needed air as he takes his wife’s limp hand in his. Jackson reaches for him, covering both his parents with his arms. My lungs close, burning raw as I choke, watching in heart-wrenching horror and amazement when Jackson looks up at me again, silently telling me to love Jensen better than they did, before he uses the rest of his strength, mentally projecting all of them away from the air deprived room. The rest of the roof gives way and their bodies are crushed with heavy beams, but they don’t feel the pain as they fade. “NO,” I croak, beginning to lose consciousness as I fall the rest of the way to my knees.

  “Saige?” Andy calls. I feel his panic as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me towards him. “Jensen! Saige isn’t breathing,” he yells as I float further away, being pulled with Jackson.

  The van rocks and slides as I continue to fade like they are. Not them. Please not Jensen’s family.

  Andy’s mouth presses against mine as he breathes his air inside of me. I can no longer feel his panic even though I can hear it in his voice when he yells at me to breathe.

  Strong hands press against my sternum. “Don’t you leave me, Saige,” I vaguely hear Jensen demand. He sounds scared as he pumps his hands against my chest. “Stay with me, dammit! I just got you back, baby. Stay with me. Please!” Jensen begs, pumping harder on my chest. I want to reach for him, but I can’t feel my fingers. I can’t feel anything but the unbearable pain of losing him again.

  Andy breathes into my mouth once more, and I finally inhale air, choking on it.

  Jensen pulls my arms, jerking me against him as he keeps telling me to breathe.

  My senses slowly come back to life, and my lungs feel like they’re bleeding when they begin to function as the vision disappears. Hope starts to ease the terror of what I saw that’s going to happen to Jensen’s family. We can stop this. That fleeting hope is smothered by the imminent warning of death slamming into me, viciously knocking the air out of my lungs again. Sheer terror tries to take over when I realize that only seconds are left before the vision becomes a reality.

  “Talk to me, baby. Are you okay?” Jensen pleads, but I don’t have time to respond.

  Grabbing Jensen’s phone from his pocket, I dial Jackson’s number with bloody, shaky fingers, but it goes to voicemail. Letting out a pained cry, I dial again. Death’s aura darkens everything inside of me and the phone falls from my fingers, bouncing against the metal floor. I look at Jensen, pressing my hands against my mouth as tears stream down my face, dripping off my hands. Shaking my head, I cry, “I’m so sorry. Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Jensen!”

  “What? What is it, Saige?”

  A sob tumbles from my throat and I collapse against him, “Your family. They’re dying.”

  “Dying? My family? How?” Jensen peppers me with questions while lifting my face in his hands, rubbing his thumb across my lips and checking my pulse.

  The tears are uncontrollable as they spill down my face. Jensen grabs his cell, calling his dad. The pain in his eyes hurts worse than the burn of the slow strangulation. Swearing loudly, he calls Jackson. Another vile expletive blasts from his mouth as he throws the phone. Raking his hands through his hair, he turns towards me, taking my arms in his hands. His voice breaks and tears glisten the edges of his eyes, “What’s happening, Saige?”

  My lips quiver as I fight so damn hard to stop sobbing. It’s over. I feel it. They’re gone. My head drops into my hands and my entire body shakes with the tears. “They di-didn’t feel any pain at th-the end,” I manage, trying to do whatever I can to ease even a fraction of the torment darkening Jensen’s face.

  Jensen lets go of me, backing away, and my heart splinters into a million stabbing shards of glass. His agony is unbearable to witness and I feel like a piece of shit for being terrified of his reaction, the same reaction I’ve received so many times when I’ve warned someone about a loved one who was going to die and they pushed me away like they would be tainted just by touching me. I shouldn’t give a damn what I feel or be afraid of what Jensen feels about me right now, not when he’s hurting.

  Pushing away my own pain, I give him space, wishing I could take every ounce of his suffering as mine. The guilt is crippling from how I didn’t sense their death until it was too late. How the fuck is this thing I have any good if I couldn’t prevent the deaths of Jensen’s family? He has been there for me countless times when I’ve been torn apart, and I failed him. The one man who has always believed in me and what I can do. The one man I’ve ever loved, and I fucking failed him!

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I step closer to Jensen, wanting like hell to hold him, but I’m scared my touch will just scar him more. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. There are no words that can ease something like this.

  Andy’s on the phone, giving Jensen’s address to someone. I assume the police or the fire department, but it’s too late. They’re gone.

  Jensen’s chest heaves. His hands are placed tightly on the top of his head as he paces. “Are you sure, Saige?” His voice is so damn broken, it frightens me.

  Tears stream down my face as I give a heavy nod. “It was a bomb at your house.”

  Jensen’s fists clench, falling to his sides. His jaw tightens and the look in his eyes is dark and terrifying. “Get her out of here, Andy,” he growls in a tone I’ve never heard from him.

  Andy takes my arm and I allow him to lead me out of the van. I’m not sure I could have managed on my own, not with the pain crushing my chest so hard it’s a struggle to breathe. Tears blind me and I stumble. Andy grabs my waist, catching me before I hit the concrete.

  A loud cry erupts before several sharp thuds rock the van, and my knees buckle.

  Sobs choke me as I sink to the wet pavement, wrapping my arms tightly around me knees. “Help him,” I cry, pushing at Andy, needing him to go inside and do something, anything, to try to comfort Jensen.

  “There’s nothing I can do right now,” he whispers. I see the tears well in Andy’s eyes before he looks away, wiping them roughly with the back of his hand. His grief is smothering. He loves Jensen like his brother; that’s clear, and it rips my heart out knowing that’s all Jensen has left now. I let his brother die. I let his family die.

  I can’t handle the guilt as it feeds venomously on my soul. More sobs rock my body, and Andy pulls me into his arms. I don’t let go of my knees, holding on so tightly my nails begin to dig into my skin. I don’t deserve his comfort. I failed Jensen. I deserve every bit of the pain ripping through my heart. I deserve for Jensen to have pulled away from me like he did. “Please – go be with Jensen,” I beg, barely able to force the words out of my mouth.

  “He needs to be alone. He’ll come out when he’s ready,” Andy tries to soothe me, but I don’t deserve to be soothed.

  “I’m sorry.” I am so sorry! I would do anything to change what happened. I would do anything to protect Jensen. At least fifty times I’ve sensed death and warned the people in time to stop it or say their good-byes if it was something other than an impending accident that was going to take them. I should have explored the feeling from this morning further, pushed until I felt more about who it involved. Instead, I fucked-up, and Jensen’s family died. Oh, God, they died. I almost died with them. Remorse guts me and dangerous, dark thoughts resurface…maybe I should have.

  Chapter Eight

  Jensen

  My father, Jackson…mom. They’re gone. They’re fucking gone! The pounding is punishing as my head hangs between my shoulders. I try to catch my breath as my hands press ruthlessly against the cold metal of the van.
I never said good-bye. I didn’t say more than a few fucking sentences to my father in four years. FOUR YEARS! I didn’t even get to talk to Jackson after he called. My fist slams against the steel as tears drip to the floor between my feet. I watch how they slowly drop between the slats until they’re gone, too. I have no time left to say what I never did - what I don’t even yet know that I should have said.

  Saige. Dammit! Saige. I almost lost Saige. I can’t lose her. Not her. The way her lips tinted bluish-gray scared the hell out of me. She was still struggling to breathe when she tried to explain what she saw. The tears poured from her eyes, nearly choking her as she kept apologizing. Shit! I slam the van door open and fall to my knees in front of Saige when I see her sobbing uncontrollably, rocking back and forth on the wet pavement. Her jeans are soaked. I can’t see her face; it’s buried in her arms as her hair spills across her shoulders and down her back, the tips wet from brushing against the concrete below.

  Andy looks at me, worry edging his usually carefree features. I don’t know which one of us he’s more worried about right now.

  My hand trembles as I lay it softly against the top of Saige’s head. The blood on my knuckles mixes with the faint drizzle, sending the red trail running across my skin. I quickly wipe my hand against my shirt before smoothing my fingers against her damp hair again. “Saige?”

  Her head immediately leaves its hiding place, and those caramel eyes are surrounded by puffy red skin instead of her usual smooth olive tone. “What can I do?” she stammers, “tell me what to do to help you.”

  I didn’t think I could feel worse pain than I did four years ago, a few minutes ago, but I was wrong. The raw agony in Saige’s eyes is fucking torture. She experienced what they felt, nearly died with them, and she’s trying to comfort me. The color of her lips has returned to a light pink, easing my worry at least a little. “Are you alright?”