Nocturnal

Two weeks into November my mind was made up. I couldn't live with plaguing dreams of dying boys, rumbling thunder and falling trees. If there was a chance of gaining control I was going to take it.

Screw that I had to spend time with a devilish seductive. It was worth the risk. Yesterday at school, I thought I was going to pass out. I'd had a string of stressful nights. Not only did my old nightmare visit, I had a new one.

Flames, fire—everywhere. It was the only thing I saw. And... I got a cold feeling down in my stomach. A horrible, icy feel.

Walking up the steps of the house's porch, I breathed deeply. The last time I'd been at their house... Well, it hadn't ended nicely.

I knocked. They'd hear, they probably heard my car pulling in. Or so I thought, but, the minutes passed and no one answered. Phillip could be out on his weekend run. It was early. What of his moody twin?

After knocking twice more and getting nothing, I checked under the rug. No spare key. My hand fell to the knob, just to humor my brain—I blinked when it clicked, giving way.

Sure. Locking doors was for losers. I rolled my eyes.

The lights were off, everything was quiet. Everything was closed. Were they both out? Were they still asleep? Catching a floor creak, I wandered off into the library. The rows of bookshelves were great hiding spots. Was Cam trying to spook me?

Not hearing another noise, my eyes caught a door. It was open. Tilting my head, I stepped toward it. It seemed to lead down into a cellar. The stairs were made of old rock, looking like they'd been there before the mansion was built. Ignoring how much this seemed like a scene from a bad horror movie, I walked down. Careful, the rocks were slippery. The walls were made of the same old-dated material. The bottom ground was dirt and around me was a heavy crafting table, jars with herbs, liquids and... I leaned away from the shelve. I think I saw bones. Gross.

It was a plain basement. A dark, old place lit by several bulbs lining the ceiling. Then there was something else. It made my heart squeeze. All across the room, was a door. It looked like it belonged to a safe. And it was either made of steel or iron. There were no windows on it. Just locks. Complicated ones.

Why was my heart racing? Because of a door...? Because of what was behind the door?

A scream tore through my brain. I was touching the cold door and hadn't noticed nearing it. It didn't matter. That scream utterly petrified me—its intensity, the suffering, anguish and...

"Look what the cat dragged in." This was the first time he didn't scare me. I mean, he did. But relief thrived as I heard him speak. He was behind me. Not behind that door. Not screaming in agony. I was hearing things now.

Cameron stood by the rocky stairs. Shadows from the hallway clawed at his raven hair making him secretive, "The door was open..."

"So you let yourself in." He finished unmoving. "And you decided to take a private tour?" his lips were tight.

I frowned lightly, "First of all, I knocked. No one answered. I came in and heard a noise in the library." I shrugged looking away. "I figured you were trying to scare me." At that, his lip curled.

"It's eight a.m. I was tucked away in my bed sleeping." His voice carried with a lazy drawl.

"I thought you were always on high alert?"

"Unholy scum can't step foot into our property." Duh. "Doesn't mean I didn't hear you."

"Why did you take so long?" I started making my way to him.

"My world doesn't revolve around you." I didn't look away. No matter how much I wanted to. "I was getting dressed." Ah. "Unless you preferred to see the whole show—" there was a naughty grin as I slapped his chest.

"You're disgusting."

"Thank you," Good Lord, pretentious, too. I jerked my head towards the kick-ass door, "What do you hide in there? Skeletons?"

Cameron tipped his head, a slight dark wave crossing his eyes, "You never want to find out."

Trying to hide some of the agitation his words provoked, I said with an easy-going smirk, "Is that your Red Room of Pain?"

Wolfish smirk blooming to its fullest, he replied, "Not even I'm that kinky."

Pushing down a comment that would lead us into witty banter, I trudged up to the library. The nagging about what laid beyond that bolted door dissipated as we stood alone. So handsome... My melting brain muttered. It was hard to believe Cam could make a wife beater and sweat pants work.

"I'll take it."

"...what?" he asked rubbing a hand over his red eyes-how late had he gone to bed yesterday? Like that was any of my business...

"Your offer," I cleared. "I'll take it. I want to learn how to control Power."

"You came here for that? You couldn't have texted it or called? We live in the tech era, you know." Cameron rubbed his neck strolling past me. I followed like a puppy, suddenly not liking being near the creepy basement.

The curve of his muscular shoulders was strictly defined, lean and beautiful. As my eyes took is all in, my eyes became fixated on his left shoulder blade. A crescent moon adorned his tanned skin, drawn and painted in black ink.

I'd never been a body-art fan. His fit him like a glove. The moon held mystery and so did he.

Soon, I was perched on a kitchen stool just like when Henry came along. Cameron ravished every cabinet for food. I noticed they were almost empty. Boys sure ate a lot. Cam sat down having grabbed a can of Pringles, some energy drink and some leftover pizza.

"You... have weird eating habits." That would never pass for breakfast in my house. Mom didn't cook, but she always had oatmeal. I made a face at the thought—I'd never liked it.

Cam popped in three chips at once. Chewing and swallowing in record time, "That means you don't want any?" my nose wrinkled. "More for me." He took a bite of frozen pizza.

Wasn't he cold? I wondered staring for far too long at his biceps. Was I drooling? That would be embarrassing. My eyes quickly scrambled away—he was looking directly at me. There was a breathless chuckle, then he continued his so-called breakfast.

Before my thoughts could wonder back to what was beyond the safe-door, Cam was finished. He washed his hands on the sink, drying them off on his slacks.

Cam flashed to me, I gasped. A daredevil grin rushed to his lips as he took my wrist, whirling me firmly. My lungs collapsed as I found myself back-to-chest with him.

"What are you doing?" I hated that my voice almost broke. His curled fingers tickled my every cell.

His mouth leaned in, breath grazing my face, "Teaching you," about what? Erogenous zones? "Do you feel something?" his fingers traveled to my elbow. It was impossible to ignore them. "A heating just below the skin? Like a burn you can't see, can't erase?"

I could feel lots of things when he was touching me, "Focus." Gritting my teeth, I inhaled deeply. A burn...?

"I..." I could feel a burn alright; my body was a lit torch. "No—"

Cameron made a little sound of both amusement and disapproval, "I feel it. It's like a heat ripping through your skin, tearing it apart, pounding to be let out. Have you ever felt that, Nina?"

About to shake my head, I stopped. A heavy feeling, tearing at me, to get out—an intensity that could throw me off.

"Yes..." I shakily replied. His fingers kneaded the under-side of my forearm, my breath hitched. Focus, I whispered. "I mean I did... I felt it... in the hallway that time I fainted. I thought it was you—was it you?" I bit abruptly when his other hand laid on my hip.

"Nope," I pressed against him further, so I wouldn't fall. My legs were feeling unreliable. "Remember when I said Power can be underdeveloped? Well, if Psychics aren't stimulated their ability will probably never develop, their Power remains dormant." Was I supposed to follow his explanation? My pummeling heart made it hard to listen. "Stimulation comes in all forms," he leaned our heads together—cheek to cheek. "Power responds to emotions. When you experience deep ones—like fear, grief, sadness, despair—it'll respond. When people like you hang around others with heavier amounts of Power—like me—it becomes more awake. Have you felt your ability growing since you got here?"

I nodded. I hadn't even thought about it. But it was true; I'd never had so many dreams—so vivid.

"You fainted because that was when your Power reached its peak." My insides buckled as an arm wrapped my waist, his hips swayed. "Its completely open to you. Now all you need," he gave me a precise tug and pull—I was standing face to face. Wow. "Is to learn what your ability has to offer. Its full potential." My mouth was ajar as we stared into each other's eyes. "Feel that burn under your skin."

His hands were nowhere, now. I took a step for my safety reaching for the kitchen island. Cameron hovered closer, half a smirk on. Tilting my head backward, I cooled off.

"I don't feel any burn, okay?" I said facing him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. You just grew used to it, though, you haven't got a clue to what it is." I frowned and his face softened into patience. "I know it must be hard for you, but try to remember the first times you had those dreams. Remember what you felt."

Taking in a flat breather, I shook my head thrusting fingers into my hair. When the dreams began.

It was about when… when I was eight. Nine. A little after my grandma died—I was sad. Things were never the same. Mom and dad argued more. And… I never felt like I fit in. While my friends wanted to read, I surrounded myself with knowledge, dreamed up fantasy worlds and theories.

That was when I had the first dreams. "I remember…" I muttered flickering my gaze up.

Cameron took a strand, tucking it behind my ear, "Describe it to me. How it felt."

Digging deeper into long-ago childhood memories I did the best I could, "They were little things at first, just the occasional déjà vu. And…" I paused. I'd never told this to anyone. But here I was, spilling my dirty little secrets to Cameron. "And… there was something—something uncomfortable when I woke up." I slipped my eyes closed. "Like an itch I couldn't scratch. No matter how hard I tried. It was everywhere."

Cameron's lips quirked, "That's good. An itch, heat, bursting pressure—it varies from person to person. Just like abilities." I massaged a temple with the side of my hand. "That itch is present every time you have a dream or a vision. Your brain has just adapted to it—like it became part of a routine. Get what I'm saying?"

"I guess," I nodded. "But why is it so important? What's in that feeling?"

"That feeling is your Power. You don't know how to control it, or even call on it, but your subconscious does. It's part of your nature." Cam reached for my hand; gently touching my pulse. "Remember asking me how I did this?" a bitsy spark jumped from his fingers to my skin. It thrilled me with a shiver.

"Yeah,"

"Before I use my ability there's a heat. It shots everywhere. That's my Power, awake and ready for me to use. I don't notice the heat—not as much—because I've grown used to it, like you." Cameron dropped my wrist. "If you want control then the first thing you need to do is feel it, call on it. Once you manage that," His eyes waltzed with mine. "You can begin learning how to use your ability."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

A cat-like smirk broadened, "A part of you knows it. It's like breathing—maybe easier, since there's a strong pull to use." As he straightened, the black wife beater strained against his rock-hard chest. We'd only been together for minutes and I already felt myself wavering—maybe I should force myself to forgive Phillip. He could teach me— "Is there something that triggers your ability? A thing, an object, a person?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I don't have dreams every night—but…" I hesitated. "Since I arrived at Haven Hills I've been dreaming about a forest. I think it's just a nightmare, though. It makes no sense." Why would I worry him with things that were probably figments of my imagination?

A frown eased onto his face, "If you think so."

"There is something," I started unsure. Cam leaned his hip on the island, expectant. "That night you guys saved me, the night I found out…?" he waited. "I had dreams with pointers—like colors, yells, flashes of light—and that time I had a major headache?" he remembered that, surely. "I had a vision. The first ever. Because of looking at Daren's locker—at the number. I'd been drawing those three digits for a long time. Most times I didn't even notice, it was like everything fell away." I held up my hand with fascination. "Like my hand had a mind of its own."

Cameron's astonishment had me blushing. It wasn't often that he looked unguarded. I marveled his shiny pupils, filled with wonderment. He bowed his head somewhat, when he lifted it, I huffed. Blinds had slammed down, emotions were out of sight.

Idiot.

"That sounds like automate writing." My eyes blinked. "You know what that is, right?"

"I do. But I thought I could see into the future and past—or whatever. Isn't that another ability?"

"Not really. Many people do it. What they write or draw just doesn't mean a thing. You scribbled those numbers because they were part of an important life-happening in your future." He was right. "Okay," he sighed. "If there isn't anything in particular that triggers your Power, you'll have to do it the old-fashioned way." I didn't like the sound of that. "It's not painful, chill." His hands landed on my tense shoulders. Why was he behind me every time? "You're going to dig deep to find your Power. I'll guide you through it." His hands fell along my arms in a painful, slow, gesture. "Close your eyes," the timber was low, intimate. We were alone. My heart rejoiced as I followed with his command, breathing in.

In the abyss of silence and darkness, I was only aware of Cameron's hands. Warm, tantalizing—even if my sweater kept us apart. I could almost see him cocking his head, leaning closer, second after second. My lungs hiccuped from anticipation.

I'd been close to speak, to make sure he still knew why we were together. He beat me to it.

"Feel this?" I felt my blood pump against the pads of his fingers. "It's your blood. Power runs there, in your veins. No matter how small the amount, it's there." Cameron's body heat threatened to surround me, scorch me in a pleasant way. How could someone be burned in a good way? "You want to tap into it." I nodded dizzily. "What you need to do is relax. Stop holding it in, stop holding who you are. Set it free." My head lolled somewhat, his chest was there like a wall.

"How do I... do that?" I almost didn't hear my own voice. It rivaled his. Velvety and low.

His breath spread over my cheek, "Stop fighting the pull. Stop being scared. It's your Power, it can't hurt you. It obeys you, Nina, do you understand?" one hand pushed my abdomen and I glued my back to him.

Between a whole mash-up of thoughts, I found my body numb; every muscle loosened, the tangles of worry and distress cascaded down my shoulders. Cam's finger tapped my wrist, I thought my heart would blow—it tutted that much harder. When I thought of safe there was only one thing coming to mind.

Despite how wrong it was, how much I wished he wasn't it, he was. I thought 'safe' and an obsidian gaze popped up, strong, warm hands, shocks of nightfall hair appeared. It was all him. And he was right there.

Never forgetting that eucalyptus smell.

I was safe with him. I wasn't afraid.

Incandescent tingles broke under my skin—I felt my body give an involuntary jerk, I gasped feeling my legs fail. I didn't go down, though.

His arm trapped me, held me securely. My stomach turned to mush when Cam husked, "That's good, lovebird. You felt it, didn't you?" I would've told him to knock it off with the pet name, but his tone was filled with... pride? It more than made me bouncy with joy. To make him happy and proud. "I never thought you'd find it so quickly. It's really kind of amazing." The swell of mirth kept getting bigger. "Don't let it rush to your head, or anything."

"You can't stand to just be nice, can you?" I forced, airways burning. My eyes were snapped shut. My body squirmed in Cameron's hold—my body was prickling, itching like ants were sowed shut inside me.

He gave a sardonic chuckle, "Wouldn't want to spoil you." I reached down to where his arm was, around me like an iron band. "Wanna turn it off?"

I swallowed a groan, "Yes, yes, how do I do that?"

"It should be easy if you have a good imagination. Imagine a wall—imagine a force, give it a color if you want. That will be your Power. Then picture yourself and the color separated by the wall."

A color. Me. A wall. Between us—I shook my head. Nothing. I tried again. There was this amazing need, desire even, to... use. To let something free.

"I can't," I panted.

"Yes you can. You did the hard part." I had the sense that he turned me to face him. "You opened up to your Power. That's hard, Nina. Closing the gap is easier you just have to fight it." My face scrunched as I attempted what he told me. An immense force kept pushing against me, against my will.

"I can't!" I yelled as Cameron kept telling me I could. "I. Can't." I hit his shoulders. "You said it wouldn't hurt me, you said I was in control—you... you liar!" Eyes fluttering, I saw my fists being caught in an unshakable hold. Cameron's nose touched mine. "Liar," I drew out as a tidal wave of both power and pain—from fighting it—washed over.

"Was I supposed to tell you it would be painful?" he hissed. "You wouldn't tap into it, not in this life or the next." I tugged at my hands—he held tight. "Listen to me," I felt dislike curl my emotions—all pleasantness gone. "Listen to me, Nina." Cam gave a shake, trapping me between him and the island. I retained his gaze as he spoke my name once more. "Your Power has been incarcerated for years. Those little dreams? They're nothing. Power wants to be used, it's its purpose. Now you freed it, it wants you to use."

"But..."

"Shut up. Let me finish." He ordered. "What you have to do, is promise that you'll use it. Just think it. It'll soothe it, it'll obey you easier. Power responds to you, your emotions." Those consuming eyes branded mine. "Get a hold of yours."

A drop of sweat descended my forehead, dripping lower. My arms lost some strength and he released them. Wobbly, I braced myself against the marble table. The cool of his face ticked me off—I wish I could get it together like he could. Fast and efficiently.

My jaw muscles twitched and I snapped my eyes closed. I felt the prickling, it was impossible not to. And I made promises, I echoed them several times. I promised to let it out more often, promised I'd learn to use it—tame it. At the same time, I conjured the wall. Pictured myself on one side, and a yellow light on the other—my Power. Trapping it.

Shutting it off.

My body never felt so exhausted as it did then. That was probably why I was unable to catch myself.

"Liar..." I mumbled under my breath, skin touching the thin cloth of his wife beater. "I hate you."

Cameron simply ran a hand through my hair, ignoring whatever accusation I made. Not that they sounded threatening. My voice was coming off all slurred.

"Hate me all you want, but," he tilted my chin. A smirk framing his lustful lips. "You tapped into it and were darn amazing." A glow bristled my anger away; those black holes pulled me in, my golden eyes were sucked into them.

The thumb under my chin delicately brushed the soft skin. I stood a little taller. The image of his lips curled my toes as they came closer. My head tilted—

We both pulled away at the slamming of a door. The front door. Phillip was home.

Clearing my throat, I slipped onto a stool, getting free of Cameron.

Silting his eyes, Cam turned around facing his twin. They broke into brotherly talk with Phillip asking what I was doing here this early—blah, blah, blah.

I rested my head on the cold black marble. Ache filled up my bones. And though I wanted to sleep, throw a damn parade because I'd achieved something monumental—all I could run through my brain was what me and Cameron had been about to do.