VEE

On the journey from the car park home, Ewan sleeps and I can't take my eyes off his slashed shirt. I repeatedly ask Joss if Ewan's okay, and he reassures me he is. I hold Ewan's hand, sneakily taking his pulse despite the other guy's reassurances he's okay. His skin's pallid, lips pale, and the laboured breathing alarms me. Is he okay? Is Heath's power to resurrect him enough?

The energy continues to pulse through me, fuelled further by anxiety, but better than the terror the old Vee would've felt. Joss, as ever, places a hand on my knee in an attempt to soothe. But physical contact builds a different sensation inside, a need ready to explode as brightly as I did in the car park.

I shakily walk from the car into the house, flanked by the guys and with Logan's words back in my head. When I killed whatever the hell those things were, I filled with an overwhelming desire to find more and destroy them too. The energy created by my powers triggering still flows, and now the desire to kill has channelled into a new desire. One with as great a need for release. This building sexual need worries me, and I rush upstairs before the desire takes over my mind as well as my body.

Fifteen minutes in the shower does nothing to rinse away the arousal, or the crazy scenarios in my head involving all four of them. Omigod, I get worse.

I lurk in my room in the hope I can sleep this off, but my mind is filled with flashes of light and memories, as if I'm plugged into a power socket. Eventually, my worry about Ewan pulls me downstairs.

Ewan lies on the sofa in the lounge, watching TV and eating popcorn from a large bowl. The sight arrests me, and I step into the room. He looks around and smiles. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" I ask.

Why isn't Ewan resting in bed? He died. His chest was ripped open by the decaying things. Poisoned. He's pale still, but his eyes shine with life, not the dead ones I saw before.

"I'll be fine. Just need to take a break." He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Take a break? "Does your chest hurt?" I gesture at mine.

"A bit. We heal pretty quickly so I should be okay by the morning." He scrunches up his nose. "You know, I really liked that shirt. My clothes are on the grungey side, but I draw the line at ripped."

I approach Ewan and sit on the floor beside him. "How can you joke about this? That was awful!"

"Occupational hazard." He places the bowl on the floor. "Sorry if it scared you."

"For a minute, I thought you really were dead, Ewan. I can't begin to describe how that fucked with my head."

Ewan touches my face. "Hey. Don't. It's okay. Everything's fine."

But his troubled expression and the silent atmosphere in the house tells me otherwise.

"Each time I think I've an understanding of your world, it's ripped away." I clutch at his hand, and his warmth reassures me.

"We're immortal, Vee," he whispers, fingers playing across my cheeks. "Death's temporary. The pain and fear are the same each time, but to be honest, it's more annoying than anything."

"Annoying?"

He smiles. "Yeah. I'm more pissed off and concerned something managed to kill me that easily."

I stroke Ewan's face in return, before gently placing my lips on his. With the soft warmth comes the same desire as the last time I killed, but climbing onto an injured Ewan and dragging his clothes off isn't an option this time.

Especially with three other people in the house.

Ewan holds the back of my head and rests his forehead on mine. "Please don't worry about me. Let me worry about you."

I withdraw because his warmth and scent aren’t helping my situation. "How I feel now scares me, not what happened today. Something remains inside me, and I don't know how to release it."

A crease forms between Ewan's brows. "You still want to kill? Is that still in your system?"

My throat thickens. "No. The same as last time I killed. Us. That release."

Ewan's mouth parts. "Ohhh. Right. Yeah, I may not be up to that right now. I'm feeling better but don't have the energy, I'm afraid."

He laughs as I give him a playful slap on the arm. "I'm trying to explain to you what's happening to me."

"Being overwhelmed is normal. We all were at first, when we had no control over our power either. You contain more power than us, and maybe the human Vee can't handle everything?"

I close my eyes. Why did he need to say what scares me? We're silent for a few moments until I say in a small voice, "Do you think I am what Logan says? Are you suspicious of me?"

"Vee..." He grips my fingers tighter. "Not for a second."

"Okay." I attempt a smile as I detect Ewan's anger building. I have enough to deal with, without worrying I'm a malevolent force.

Instead, I focus on Ewan and the love I have for him. I stroke his face, and as I accept he's survived, my heart heals as he continues to. Within minutes, his breathing shallows as he falls asleep. I don't often take time to study the guys these days; life passes by too quickly to pause, but I take time to appreciate Ewan.

His face is soft with sleep, pain and tension gone. I smile and brush hair from his forehead and kiss his skin. One muscled arm dangles over the side of the sofa, ink visible at the shirtsleeve edge. Ewan's chest rises and falls beneath his shirt, and I struggle to believe anybody can heal the damage I saw.

But he's not anybody. My Ewan is the Horseman who died and lived again; my gruff, tattooed guy who sleeps as peacefully as a child.

I kiss him again, and he stirs, mumbles something, and continues to sleep. One thought follows me as I leave the room to find the others.

What happens if I die?

* * *

In the kitchen, I walk straight to the cupboard above the kettle and pull out the whiskey bottle Xander and Heath stash up there. No amount of tea in the world can cure how I feel right now. Grabbing a nearby tumbler, I pour whiskey and then drink in one gulp. Ignoring the burn and strong taste, I pour and knock back a second drink.

"Want some ice with that?" asks an amused voice.

Heath walks over and picks a second glass from the cupboard. He takes the bottle from me, fills his glass, and sets the bottle out of reach.

"I didn't think you like drinking?" He drains his glass too.

"No, but after this afternoon I bloody need one." I pour more and attempt a decorous sip. Will alcohol drown out the fire in my body? In the past, heavy drinking knocked me unconscious. I could try that method to avoid embarrassing myself.

"I saw you with Ewan. Is he feeling better?" asks Heath.

"Less dead, that's for sure. Can I have another drink, please?" Heath purses his lips, and I ignore him, take the bottle, and refill my glass. "What the hell happened today, Heath?"

"We're trying to research what attacked us but can't find anything. When Ewan's up to it, he can help search online. He's better at finding this shit."

"Were they zombies?" I blurt. "I bet they were zombies."

Heath sips his drink. "Nah. Zombies don't exist."

"Don’t exist yet! What if they're an experiment gone wrong? Or some kind of—”

"Vee, honestly, they're not zombies. You said you felt something was wrong when we were in the car park. Maybe they’re something demon reanimated. I don’t know. Joss couldn't detect them as demons, but you could tell they weren't human. Was there any demon vibe to them?"

I blink. "What the hell is a 'demon vibe'?"

"Inhuman. Evil. Destructive. Ready to kill a Horseman."

I slam down my glass. "Why do you all make a joke of this?"

Heath circles his finger around his glass and stares down at the contents. "Because if we don't, we won't cope with the reality." He looks up. "It fucking scares me too."

My frustration dampens down at the trouble in his eyes. I never noticed before, but Heath's pale too; his bright eyes duller and darkened by circles.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

"There's a cost to using our powers, Vee. We try to use other methods because it's bloody exhausting sometimes. If we don't use them often, there's no big deal, but it takes its toll."

Then why do I feel the opposite?

"You know what scares me the most?" he says, voice low. I shake my head. "I'm the one who can resurrect, but what happens if I die?"

His words squeeze my heart. "But you can't die, Heath. You're Death."

"How do we know that's true? I've always managed to stay alive, but I've been close to dying."

Heath's seen his friends die and escaped death himself, and saving Ewan has taken something out of him. In a way, today hurt Heath as much as Ewan, on a deeper level.

I set my glass down too and wrap my arms around Heath. "If you do die, I bet I can help out. You know, with my mad powers."

He laughs and wriggles against my breath touching his ear before winding his arms around me. "I bloody hope so."

"I'd do everything I could to keep you alive," I say against his cheek.

Heath moves his face so his mouth meets mine, and with the whiskey taste comes the pull from yesterday. He grips me close, and I push my mouth against his, parting his lips with my tongue, eager to unleash some of the buzzing inside. My attempt to push him against the kitchen counter fails, but he doesn't stop my hand from sneaking beneath his shirt and dragging nails across his back. Heath pulls my hips against him, hands on my ass and my grip on him tightens.

"Vee wasn't hurt. I don't think she needs mouth to mouth, Heath." Xander's amused voice joins us in the kitchen.

Heath unwinds my arms from his waist and steps back. He runs a fingertip across my mouth, with a smile, and the rough contrasts the smooth from his lips moments ago. I turn to Xander and can't decide if his expression's amusement, or if he's perturbed by what he walked into.

Xander catches sight of our glasses. "I'll have one, thanks." He crosses to us and lifts up the bottle, squinting at the contents. "Where the hell did all that go?"

"I needed a drink," I reply. "That okay?"

Xander scratches his nose. "You're flushed. Is that my brother or the alcohol?"

"Both."

Heath chuckles.

"Uh huh." Xander splashes whiskey into a glass. "You two should take your activities upstairs."

The douche's attempts to embarrass me fail, but the outlet triggered by kissing Heath grows. Heath brushes the front of his bloodstained shirt. "Might change out of this and take a shower."

"A cold one might be a good idea," Xander says with a smirk. "And I'd be quick if I were you, judging by the contents left in the bottle I think Vee will be asleep before you persuade her to do anything else."

Heath ignores his brother's taunt and kisses the top of my head. "Don't drink too much." He pokes my nose and walks away.

Alcohol to dampen down my smutty intentions? Wrong move because the alcohol switched off more inhibition. I'm seconds away from pursuing Heath upstairs and cramming myself into the small shower with him. Mad skills? Heath has exactly the right ones to unleash the frustration inside.

I turn away. No, I won't give Xander more fuel to his accusations I’m a sex-crazed harlot whose one goal in life is to bed every guy in the house.

Even though that's exactly what I want to do.

Fuck. I draw a ragged breath and finish the glass contents. Will this happen every time I kill? Every time my powers trigger? Losing control of Vee as my powers channel is one problem, wanting to lose control beneath one of the guys I live with afterwards is a whole different issue.

I tap my fingers on the side of the glass. Another?

Xander rests against the counter beside me. "You want to talk about what happened today? Scary shit."

I snort. "Understatement. And no. Tomorrow. I need sleep before I'm up to dealing with anymore. Did they scare you—those things?"

Xander blows air into his cheeks. "Not scare. Worry. Meeting a whole new brand of fun is always stressful. Now, the worst part is finding out what they are and learning how to deal with them."

"Learning? Can't you just eradicate them?"

He shakes his head at me in the way an adult would to a small child, which goads me. "If we could 'eradicate' everything, the world would be a safer place and we'd have no job. Sometimes we find what we come across are also in books; often they're demon types that more powerful ones have managed to locate and reanimate."

Xander turns away and helps himself to another drink. As with Ewan and Heath, I'm drawn less to what he has to say and more what's beneath his clothes. Especially the jeans fitting so well around his tight ass.

For heaven's sake, Vee. Inappropriate, much?

I drag my gaze away and hold out my glass.

Xander hesitates. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"You should before you drink any more."

I purse my lips in amusement. "That's very caring of you."

"I'm supposed to keep you safe. Allowing you to collapse vomiting on the floor, because you're a non-drinker who's downed half a bottle of whiskey, isn't looking after you."

"I'm not hungry. And the alcohol is doing nothing."

"Sure, it isn't." He sighs and tops my glass up. "I'll find Joss, he can cook something."

I splutter whiskey across the bench. "You're a cheeky bastard. Is Joss the house chef or something?"

"Believe me. Whatever I cook won't be appetising. And burnt. Poisoning you doesn't count as keeping you safe either."

A frowny, pouty Xander doesn't help my attempt to quell the smutty thoughts pushing to the surface. Those lips seriously need biting sometime soon. Tonight?

Omigod. I need to get out of this kitchen.

"Are you sure you're not drunk?" he asks.

Should I also tell him what happens to me when I kill? "I'm fine. Just feeling a bit... off. I'll be okay after a sleep, I hope." I stare at his long fingers curled around his glass, remembering them stroking my skin after he hurt me in our sparring match.

Maybe I should go to Heath. Now.

"You coped well," he says.

"Coped? I more than coped!" He succeeds in snapping me out of it. "I saved you and between us we destroyed the bastards."

"Yeah. Well. You couldn't have managed that without me."

I grit my teeth. "Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so." He straightens. "We're connected, remember?"

"I think you're the one who needs to be reminded of that."

As we spark off each other, the power grows again. Oh, hell, I want to touch him. I want Xander also losing the control he holds, beneath me, hands on me, above me, hell any way he wants.

I swallow as the thoughts intensify and cloud my head along with the alcohol.

Xander tips his head. "Are you suggesting you want to remind me, Vee?"

"No."

"I heard your conversation with Ewan, and you're practically glowing with sex right now; it's streaming from you." He steps towards me. "Are you going to lose control around me?"

"Don't tease me," I say in a quiet voice. "There's so much I don't understand, Xander. It's tough."

The amusement drops from his face, replaced by concern. "I'm sorry," he says softly. I reach out to touch his hand, but he flinches. "No. You can’t choose to do this with me."

"I wasn't going to do anything."

He shakes his head. "Vee, I won't let anything happen between us because some bullshit power takes control. If ever anything happens, it will be because we want it to."

My heart stutters at his words as Xander moves away and turns back to pour himself another drink.

"I wasn't going to do anything," I repeat. "I can control myself, you know."

Xander swirls the contents of his glass and stares into it. "I'm glad to hear one of us can."

He doesn't look back up, and we finish our drinks in silence.

"I'm bloody exhausted," he says eventually and sets his glass beside the sink. "Night."

I nod and lick the whiskey from my numbing lips. "Night, Xander."

He hesitates and for a strange moment I think he's about to kiss me goodnight. The confusion passes between us and he rubs my arm. "Hope you feel better tomorrow." He inclines his head upwards. "Go and see Heath, I'm sure he'll help."