Jo Robertson - The Avenger

Then Ben shouted up at them from the creek bed, and the moment was lost.

Jack turned from the window, saw Olivia brush her fingers against damp cheeks, and continued his story. "Within a week of that night I noticed changes in myself," he continued, "significant ones. I moved up a weight class in wrestling because my body bulked up so much. I became strong – so damned strong – my muscles developed overnight, and I grew five inches that spring."

Olivia crossed to the window to stand beside him while they both searched the inky night. She still avoided touching him, but he felt her soothing warmth. "I didn't notice," she whispered.

"Every one of my senses heightened – sights, sounds, smells so acute I thought I'd suffocate. I pushed you away because I wanted you all the time and didn't want you to think I was some lust-crazed maniac."

"But we never… " she protested, "after that."

"Yeah." He tried to smile, faltered. "The most bizarre thing was the healing."

"Healing?" He sensed her confusion.

"Amazing powers, a cut, a wrenched ankle, a scrape or burn – all healed freakishly fast. I must have injured myself a dozen times that spring and never saw a doctor once."

She wet her lips and touched his shoulder so that he turned toward her. "You… you can't expect me to believe that."

He went on anyway. "After that the dreams started, weird psychedelic images and nightmarish stories, like someone had slipped me acid. But none of them made sense the next morning. Night sweats, headaches, nausea, blurred vision… "

"That sounds like drugs." Accusation registered in her voice.

"God, Livvie, something much worse."

She shook her head in bewilderment. "What could be worse?"

But Jack wasn't ready to talk about that yet. Instead, he pulled out the one fact he knew he had to tell her. "Like I said, it was grad night and I couldn't find you, so I went to your house, but you weren't there." He hesitated. "Roger was."

Roger Strong, who'd made a believer of him long before anything else.

Jack rushed the words out on a single breath. "I killed him."

She jerked back from him and sank into the wing chair. "Oh my God."

Silence filled the room while the magnitude of his confession hung between them.

Finally Olivia spoke, her voice frantic, a light sheen of sweat on her upper lip. "But… it was an accident, right? Roger was always getting into drunken brawls." Her fingers clutched the arm of the chair. "Tell me it was an accident, Jack."

"Not exactly an accident," he said disgustedly. "More like him swinging a broken whiskey bottle at my face and me avoiding it the best way I could."

"What do you mean?"

"He was an ass, Livvie," he insisted quietly, not wanting to excuse his actions, but needing to explain them. He'd been horrified by what he'd done, but not sorry. "Roger deserved everything he got. It wasn't only you he bothered. He went after any girl who wasn't smart enough, or old enough, to stay clear of him."

She stared up at him and shook her head as if denying the facts.

"He smashed the beer bottle on the porch railing and came after me with it. Opened up a vicious gash on my bicep. Then I made the mistake of turning my back on him. He tackled me from behind. It all happened so fast."

Jack looked away, still horrified at what he'd done next. "I swung around, got him in a choke hold. And then… I heard his neck snap."

Stunned silence filled the room for long moments.

Horror and shame flitted across Olivia's face. "My mother told me he left her," she said slowly, "deserted without a word. I was glad he was gone." Her lips twisted in a wry grimace. "The police investigated and said he probably ran off with another woman like my mom suggested. Nobody cared, least of all me."

Her voice slowed to a crawl. "If you killed him, what happened to his body?"

"I went home to clean up. I was terrified. I didn't know what to do. When I went back, Roger was gone."

Hope flared in her eyes. "Maybe you didn't kill him. Maybe what my mother said was true. Maybe he was stunned and just got up and walked away."

"I killed him," Jack insisted dully. "I heard his neck snap. He was dead." He remembered how afraid he'd been, the confrontation with Roger, the fear of getting caught and serving time like his old man.

"Then that healing power kicked in. My arm was dripping blood so heavy I thought he'd hit an artery, and the next thing I knew, the bleeding had almost stopped. Twenty minutes later an eight-inch long, inch-deep gash in my upper arm was starting to heal." Jack paused and looked her square in the eye. "All. By. Itself. It's been happening ever since."

She looked as if she'd been sucker punched. "That's not possible."

His body's regenerative powers still amazed Jack after all these years. How could he expect Olivia to believe?

"This weird strength and the healing factor began after we'd been together," he said and watched her sink under the weight of this strange knowledge. "That's one of the reasons I didn't dare be with you again."

"Even though we both wanted it," she murmured.

"There's more," he added.

It was really too much to take in all at once, Olivia thought, her head swimming with Jack's wild tale. "I need a drink." She walked on shaky legs into the dining area and retrieved a decanter and two glasses.

Jack shook his head. "Not for me, not tonight."

When she looked askance at him, he added, "I – I have to keep a clear head."

She poured herself a stiff drink while Jack watched her carefully. "I know you don't want to hear this," he said, "but I have to go away by myself for a little while."

She choked on the swallow of burning liquid. "Why?"

"It has to do with Invictus."

"And – let me guess – you aren't going to explain, right?" The bitterness in her voice sounded ugly to her own ears.

"What else do you want to know?" he asked in a reasonable tone that made her angrier.

She gulped another drink and waved her hand in empty gracelessness. "There's more, you said. What more?"

Jack looked weary, and for a brief moment all she wanted was to hold him in her arms and comfort him, but she steeled herself against those tender feelings.

"I'll be gone a few days, no more," he said, "and when I get back I'll tell you the rest."

She glowered at him, glad she hadn't succumbed to the momentary weakness. "Go then." She turned her back to him. "Get out. Keep your secrets. I don't care about them." She felt dizzy and realized she'd drunk the alcohol too quickly.

"I promise I'll tell you everything," he repeated.

His words were so soft she almost missed them, thought he'd gone. Suddenly his hands lightly touched her shoulders. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and ran his fingers gently up and down her arms. "Don't be angry."

Olivia melted into his body, feeling for a brief moment as if she'd come home. Her breath hitched and her blood pounded at her temples. God, she wanted him. Her body vibrated with the need to touch and be touched by him. He gently nuzzled her neck. His hot breath on her skin sent shivers of pleasure through her. When he turned her around and captured her mouth in a sweet kiss, she was so hungry for him that she moaned silently.

The intensity of the kiss pounded through her veins like an unleashed dam. She wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her fingers into his thick hair, pulling him harder, closer to her. The resonating pulse of his desire hummed between them. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, she thought, feeling the electric shock of need spark between them. He pulled away for a moment, dark fierce eyes staring into hers as if asking permission. She tugged his mouth down and nipped at the beautifully carved bottom lip. He responded by plundering her mouth until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't stop.