The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My apartment is starting to feel like my own. I threw out the touristy knick-knacks Nina bought for me. Well, I donated them to the local Goodwill, which is a sort of charity I guess. It felt a lot more super heroic to leave a few big bags with my card taped to them than to donate them.

I dance around my living room, hips swaying to my own voice as I think about how my life has changed. Prowling the streets at night waiting for Diane to get off work so I can walk her home is fun. I think I’m getting a bit of a reputation for it, but the more I go around trying to save the day the more I feel silly doing it without a more heroic costume.

Sarah and Aurora can call it a uniform all they want, but it’s a costume.

Diane’s boss was able to help us find a respectable lawyer to keep on retainer. I think that’s the right phrasing anyway. I’m not too big-headed to think I understand the legalese. She’s looking over some offers we’ve already had to join a few labels. They’re all former rivals of Rising Phoenix eager to beat our old deal. It’ll have to be a pretty impressive deal since I’m still rolling in cash.

We’ve agreed to do a charity gig this weekend to show we’re still alive and rocking. It’s good press. I forget the cause, but I remember thinking it was a good one. I’d probably sing for zoning laws at this point. I’ve had company from Diane and the band, but I miss the rush of being up on stage.

Even underneath Nina’s conditioning, I was there and excited. I was the twinkling behind my eyes and the sweat covering my body. No one can take that from me.

Mom sent me more of my things and keeps insisting I call and talk to Sarah. I’m still too embarrassed. I’m still too ashamed. I know I need to face her, but when I do, I want to face her as Nebula and as Sylvia. I want it to be in Midas, face to face, at a concert. Maybe I could bring her up on stage. She is a bit of a local celebrity, after all.

Someone knocks, and I dance my way over to the door calling out a quick “Coming!” My voice is urgent but I don’t move any quicker. Our lawyer would have called first. Diane is still at work. The band could be at my door, but I imagine they have better things to do.

Nothing is exciting enough for it to be Pamela.

“Hi!” Nikki is standing in the doorway, guitar in one hand. “I was feeling sort of lonely. Harassed our lawyer a bit but she playfully threatened to block my number, and I wasn’t sure how playful she was being. She knows a lot more about restraining orders than I do so I figured I could chill with you. I was kinda tempted to see if you wanted to work on a song or something . . . I’ve been practicing alone, but I got a little bored putting on award-winning performances for an empty apartment.”

“Of course! Come on in! If you’d called first I would have done some bars first or something. My voice is all tired. I can wake it up pretty quick though.” I smile brightly as I can and motion her in. Nikki plops down on my couch, hitting a few notes as she tunes her guitar.

She looks a lot better in control of herself. She’s perfect for a guitarist. Someday, when I die young in a pile of fangirls, she’ll make a great solo project. There’s just something about a woman like her. She’s feisty, strong, but has such a warm friendly aura. She’s in shape, the extra muscle is just enough to hint at her stamina. Even with my sparked mist I was never able to completely wear her down. I was able to wear down her mind, but her body could have given me more if I’d wanted it.

She reminds me a little of what Aurora could be if she felt a little more comfortable with herself. Her hair is redder than Aurora’s, and she’s taller, but they have a similar build. I wonder which of them would pass out first.

With a satisfied grin, Nikki throws down the main riff from “Sweat.” She closes her eyes, leaning her head back as she makes notes quiver that usually firmly strike. She has such appreciation and reverence for every little nuance of the song. No one in Symphonic Nebula is a slouch, but there’s something really special about her.

Her eyes open, fluttering the slightest bit before focusing on mine. “I should have brought an acoustic. I need to get a new one. My Gibson isn’t in New York. Nina gave us enough money though, I can afford a few spares. I think we could do an awesome acoustic version of ‘Longing,’ don’t you?”

“Hell, I think we could do an awesome acoustic of just about anything. I guess Tasha would need a piano for that. Shouldn’t be too much of a switch, right?” I sit down beside her, admiring her guitar. It’s black, a rich deep black that in the right light glitters like the night filled with a million stars.

She moves her fingers along the neck like she does along a lover’s thigh. She’s a little rougher on her guitar than she ever was on my body, but I don’t think I’d have minded her being a little rougher. She always had such a delicate touch. I can’t say that I minded that either.. Just watching how devotedly she plays makes me tingle. Maybe that’s part of what makes chicks dig musicians. Why would another musician be immune to that?

Nikki shifts from “Sweat” to “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and back. When she stops we’re both grinning like idiots. “Tasha would sound awesome on a piano. Maybe we should get one as a surprise for an acoustic set. Too bad there’s no excuse to get Leigh a set of acoustic drums, and you’re pretty acoustic already.”

“Even though some of the most acoustic things are large hollow domes, I’ll take that as a compliment this time.” I lean against her and sigh. Damn it. I’m laying it on thick. I really need to not do this. “You really are the best guitarist I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh come on. Hendrix. Iomi. I could spend hours naming better guitarists. I’m young, and talented. I got lucky. Wylde! Maybe you need to listen to more metal.” Nikki isn’t insulting herself so much as propping others up higher. Maybe I do need to listen to more metal. We aren’t a totally metal band, but we’ve definitely got an edge. We’re probably a little too poppy to get the word metal without some other genre attached. “We’ll have to do a track or two like that eventually, something really hard. Or I’ll need a solo career. I don’t know if I sing well enough for that.”

I’ve never heard her sing lead. I’ve heard her sing backup, but those are very different. You don’t want to feel like your lead singer is taking cues from the softer voices. I kiss her cheek and hug her a little closer. This is so cheating on Diane. Even if she wouldn’t care this is cheating. Fuck.

I reach over Nikki and strum the strings a few times with a staccato pace. “I’ll sing backup if you’ll have me. Maybe you could teach me a few chords. I’m a really fast learner. Really fast. I’d play metal!”

“Are you always this flirty when you’re in a relationship, or are things with Diane not going so well?” Ouch. I don’t even try to hold back the wince. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m pretty loose about things like that. I just go for honesty. If you want to fuck me, tell me, but tell Diane too. First. Either way I’d like an answer. Maybe I’ll even teach you how to play ‘Sweat’ for this weekend. I think that’d be a big hit.”

My body tingles as she says the magic words. To make the crowd cheer louder, I think I’d play a kazoo. We have a song or two that might work with a harmonica, but that might be a little Canadian. We’ll see.

Cheeks burning, I pull back and sink into the couch. “Things with Diane are going pretty stellar, mostly. There are only a couple snags. Sorry. I shouldn’t use you as an outlet. You’re just so strong, so firm, so . . . powerful. If a super villain was after you, what would you do?”

“If you, our intrepid hero, weren’t around?” I nod. “Kick their ass. I don’t take shit, even from super-powered assholes. I mean, you piss off a fifteen-story demon god, and I’m going to run like anyone else, but otherwise I’ll at least put up a fight. Probably a pretty good one, too.” Nikki pauses as a thoughtful look slides over her face. “Oooh. And Diane, well you kinda met her because you saved her ass. Worried about her becoming your damsel in eternal distress?”

“That too. There’s a lot more than that, but that’s the worst.” I lean over Nikki again and give the strings another quick hit. “I admit, a part of me misses the girl I had back in Midas. We grew up together. We found a comfortable place together. She knew what I wanted.She was rough but not too rough. She was devil-may-care most of the time, but she would cry with her head in my lap. I miss her a lot, but she’s probably moved on, and we didn’t really . . . we could never be a long-term kind of thing anyway. Starcrossed and other romantic things that mean fucked from the start. It’s not like I can get her back but . . .”

Nikki smiles, nodding along in a way that I can only describe as all-knowing. Her fingers dance along the strings again, teasing out a playful string of notes. Could Nikki and I be a couple? We have music in common, the band in common, and if anyone could have kicked Christina’s ass, it would have been her.

Diane isn’t exactly a slouch. She loves giving me heroine-sex. She loves pampering me. She wound do anything for me if I needed her to. I know that. She lets me fuck her mind. She’d let me do things Aurora would never dream of.

Probably. In retrospect, she did everything for me. She only said no to being abandoned.

I pull away and curl around a pillow on the other side of the couch with a deep sigh. Aurora was always willing to adapt her fantasies to me as long as I was in them. She said she’d join me in New York. I know she didn’t want to come here. I know how happy she was in Midas. I know she was looking forward to working with Sarah as an equal.

She would have given that up for me. I told her to leave me alone. Then I told her to drive us away from home so we could talk about it. I don’t know how I thought that could end any way that wasn’t cruel to her. I can’t just forget what she did, but . . .

“But you want her back, and I remind you a little bit more of her than Diane does. Right? Imagining getting the best of the both of us would make up for it?” More music fills the room. She really knows how to play that guitar. Silently, I nod. “Ain’t gonna really work. Either you get over her, or we’d just be a sexy two-part band-aid. Not that I’d especially mind being part of that band-aid. At all. But if you’re with someone because they remind you of someone else, you’re just dating her memory.”

“I know. I never should have broken up with her, but it never would have worked. We were perfect for each other, really knew each other better than anyone . . . but we aren’t supposed to be together.” I bite my lip and la la la my way through a sorrowful vocal stretch. “So I’ll just ask Diane if we can fuck. Maybe we could do a little something the three of us . . .”

Nikki stops playing after one quick loud strike of her strings. “Why if you’re so perfect for each other, did you break up with her? You don’t strike me as stupid and impulsive.”

“She’s my half-sister.”

“Gotcha.” She scoots closer to me and starts to play again. Her guitar sounds oddly playful for the tone of our conversation. “You emphasize the half, you know. That’s interesting though. You don’t really talk about your family. That why? Sorry if I’m getting too personal, but you did want me to be your fuckbuddy.”

I have to bite my lip to not correct her. I was considering a lot more than just fuckbuddy, but she doesn’t need to know that. She’s also the first person not blood-related, or mind-controlling me, that knows about Aurora. Telling her doesn’t feel quite so odd. She doesn’t seem to care. Isn’t incest supposed to be a pretty big deal? That was why we never told anyone. We’ve been in love for years and never told anyone.

“My family is strange. I have two mothers. I have a sister I used to sleep with. One of my mothers? She traveled back in time and altered her own past. That was when she knocked my mother up. Then, the other her in the past? Knocked up my sister’s other mom.” I sigh and stand, singing another exercise to calm myself down.

It doesn’t work. This is worrying me way too much. It’s strange. Right now I feel way more ashamed of what I did to Aurora than about the shame I was trying to avoid by breaking up with her.

Sex sounds a lot better than betrayal.

“That sounds more like cousins, but I guess if both past her and your her were the same person . . . genetic half-sisters but . . . still. Pretty magic mom knocking up another woman in the first place. Silver Girl I’m betting, the one that saved us from Nina?” I nod and Nikki grins. “So she has two daughters. This requires deeper contemplation.”

“Seriously, Nikki . . . This is pretty serious stuff. We broke up because I uhm . . . I tried to control her into not minding that I was going to break up with her and come out here to New York. Later that night we went on a ride, and well . . . that silver part of my power? Aurora has that too. She used it on me, and well . . . raped me. I left Midas the next morning. I broke up with her because I was afraid I could never get anywhere with my music if the world found out I was fucking my sister.”

“Harsh.” Nikki sets down her guitar and shifts to face me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more serious. “For both of you. Dunno what to say. You’re right, but it seems like you don’t really care right now. Maybe you should call her.”

I don’t tell her how many times I’ve thought of doing it. My little sister. My lover. She’s so far away and it’s because of me. I shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t even talk to Sarah—Silver Girl.”

“That sucks. Then hey, it doesn’t sound like you’re in the mood to do anything about how miserable this is making you, and calling Diane about sex with another woman in the middle of the day is a bad idea. Wanna go recklessly spending money from a bitch who should still be in jail? Maybe I could find an acoustic guitar and we could do an impromptu performance in a park somewhere. There’s that central one, right?”

I can’t stop myself from grinning. I nod and flash the widest smile I can. “Sounds like a plan. Just . . . don’t tell anyone about Aurora, please?”

Nikki opens her mouth as if to object, and then just nods.

The mall is fun except for the dark storm cloud floating over me. That’s a little less than fun. What’s worse is how casually Nikki accepted it. She doesn’t seem to care. How can she not care? Did I ditch Aurora for no good reason? I feel like a huge bitch.

At least there’s a silver lining. Nikki sounds awesome acoustic. There’s something so soulful about an acoustic guitar. Nothing is cold and detached about an electric, but there’s just an undeniably different feeling.

So we’ve been in the music shop for hours because I’m enjoying listening to her play and bullshit with the store workers and everyone that recognizes a riff or two. A few even know her name. I really should learn the guitar. Symphonic Nebula would have a much wider range, and I’d have something more to do when I don’t have lyrics to sing. Twirling looks good and all, but it doesn’t do much else.

I play around with microphones to seem like I’m interested in this for its own sake, but I already have a great mic. My next4y would be custom, anyway. Would a miniature starfield scattered across it be better, or a fancy N . . . or S . . .

A loud screech fills the store that goes from painful to ear splitting to glass shattering. Literally it sounds like all of the glass in the entire mall shatters and crashes down at once. I can barely hear Nikki swearing at the top of her lungs. My ears ring miserably and it’s hard to resist crouching with my hands over my head. The mall is startlingly dark with only a little light making it in from what used to be windows.

I hurry over to Nikki and take a deep breath. “I’m going to go figure out what the hell just happened! You stay here, try to make sure everyone is okay!”

Before she can object I’m already running faster than I normally can towards where that sound came from. Alarms are buzzing and screeching all around me. Security guards are running around tending to the surprised and the injured. I’m running into a jewelry store.

With all of the display cases broken, a jewelry store looks a lot different. All of the glass makes shoplifting undeniable tempting. It also makes it look like some kind of creepy torture room.

A woman stands in front of what used to be the biggest case lifting out a gorgeous diamond necklace. Her hair is long, ratty and blond. She’s dressed in what looks like it was once a gorgeous prom dress but since has been through hell and back. It’s ripped, torn, stained, and so much of her visible skin is scratched. She’s so pale, slender but not emaciated . . . whatever happened to her was very, very recent.

She holds the necklace up infront of her, examining it closely. Pausing only for a moment after her gaze appears to be satisfied she opens her mouth wide, and screams. It’s the same sound as before, and it makes the necklace quiver and shake in her hand. I have to cover my ears as her scream gets louder. It’s not surprising that everyone in the store is passed out. Her screaming makes my body ache.

“Hey!” I scream as loud as I can. She doesn’t stop screaming or hear me, so I keep screaming louder and louder. Finally she stops screaming and looks right into my eyes. “Yeah, you! What the hell are you doing?!”

She looks young for a super villain, probably only as old as I am. Her eyes tear up and she starts sniffling in the most pitiful way I’ve ever heard in my life. “Didn’t break . . . means it’s good . . . means I want it . . . I want pretty things. Sick of being dirty and alone . . . I want it all!”

Her ‘all’ slowly stops being a word and gets louder and louder until the force of her scream is enough to knock me over. I try not to wince too much from falling right on a pile of glass, but that’s not the easiest thing to do. Fuck I’m probably bleeding.

Her scream slowly fades, and I let a little bit of my nebula flow from my fingertips. “You can’t have it all. You can have a hug if you want it, but that’s only if you say ‘pretty please.’” Fuck I must have gotten Mom’s banter gene.

The young villain doesn’t seem very impressed with a little bit of glitter and fog. I don’t blame her. She just leveled a mall’s supply of glass with a tantrum. I clench my hands into fists and the mist around them flows faster. My power flows so much more freely than it used to.

“I don’t want a hug . . . They took . . . Made me . . . I didn’t want to! They made me! They made me—!” She starts to scream again, loud enough to make my skin vibrate before she stops.

My nebula even pulls away from me a little, expanding and growing into an aura around me. “Well I’m sorry, but I didn’t! None of the people here did, either!” I run at her, fast as I can, but I can’t beat her scream. Sound is pretty fast, and from close enough to push her back against the half-broken display case I swear it feels like my ears will bleed if she keeps it up much longer.

Gritting my teeth I pull the flowing mist that I’ve been letting float around me around her like a blanket. Her body shudders, clenching once as she lets out a brief blip of her loudest screech. My eyes ache, but her body starts to relax. Little shudders ripple through her the more she relaxes, like someone trying to fall asleep that but keeps waking up because of muscle spasms. I can feel such horror and sorrow coursing through her, and it makes my eyes water.

Miss them . . . Probably don’t miss me . . . Told me they don’t miss me, told me they hate me . . . Mistake, failure . . . experiment went wrong . . . Her thoughts are so small and quiet. They feel like a little girl curling up against the darkest corner in a room hoping no one will see her.

Her lips shudder apart as she whimpers. I can feel her body trembling with the pleasure of so much stimulation, but it isn’t reaching her mind. Her mind is softening, but it’s . . . too traumatized? I’ve never felt something like this before. I don’t know how to describe it.

The world gets quieter and quieter as I try to focus on her thoughts and to force my power deeper inside of her. She trembles in my arms, arching against me on reflex.

I try to think at her, but I can feel it’s going nowhere. I’m not a telepath. I can’t force my will into her, just a one way-connection that lets me feel her and melt away her self-control. “I want to help you. Open up. Let me in. Show me what happened.”

My vision fogs over with violet and silver, blinding me for a moment before showing me a flash of someone. There’s a doctor, I don’t know how I know that, but she’s wearing glasses, carrying a clipboard . . . she’s always carrying that clipboard.

She takes a step towards me. I feel the click of her heels against the floor echo in my head. She always wears those heels. I try to look down and all I can feel is a flash of soft red before silver and violet flashes tear me away.

Screamer. They called her “Screamer.” I don’t know why I know that. I know it as much as I know that those hard points pressing against me are her nipples. That woman, that doctor . . . what did she do to her? Was it some sort of experiment to give her powers? It’s hard to worry about that too much. The pleasure I’ve been forcing around and through her body is finally starting to have a recognizable effect. Her thighs keep brushing against mine as she squirms and shudders. Her voice is a quiet, trembling moan.

I need to know more. I need to get deeper inside of her mind. I pull her tighter. Her body instantly reacts, arching back against me. Her body heat doubles as her hands grasp at me, not holding anywhere yummy or useful, but enough to get a firm grip.

She moans and I kiss her. I press my lips as firmly against hers as I can, forcing as much of my powers through my lips as I can. I need to know what they did to her. I have to help her, even if it means melting away her ability to choose for a little while. It’s not like she was making the best decisions, anyway. Her body trembles, hips pressed hard against mine, but her mind doesn’t open itself any wider. I can feel her weakened mind shuddering, struggling inside of something, inside of herself, but she’s so fragile and scared.

Tell me. Show me. What happened to you? What’s wrong? Let me help you . . .

She screams within the kiss, but not unpleasantly. It’s more a scream of shock, as if something is shaking gently loose or some part of her mind is reacting to my thought. The latter is probably just wishful thinking, but I can wish it anyway.

I . . . hear silver and violet before more streams into my consciousness from the poor helpless blond girl. “You need another treatment. You aren’t well, little one. You aren’t happy. You aren’t behaving. Your old friends wouldn’t even recognize you, and you’re pushing your classmates away. Screamer . . . that name doesn’t need to be a bad thing. It can be a very good thing. It can be a sacred thing, a bond between you and everyone here that cares about you. Open up to us . . .”

The voice isn’t one I can ever remember hearing, but I know it’s the doctor—it has to be the doctor.

My vision swims and I can feel myself being strapped down. Needles are piercing into my arms. I try to struggle, but I’m too weak. I haven’t had a good meal I’ve been able to keep down in days. The treatments keep making me sick. The doctor promises that she can heal me, but I’m not like the other girls.

She’s standing over me, smiling, marking on her clipboard. Her gaze is scrutinizing and piercing. I feel like I’m being dissected. She says she wants to help me, make me feel better, but the needles hurt. I miss my friends.

Heat pours in through the needles. It feels good. It feels warm. My eyes roll up into my head and I moan. The doctor’s hands are caressing my breasts. She likes touching me. She’s always touching me. She’s touching my hair, or my face, or my chest, or between my legs . . . she always makes me moan.

“You’ll feel better after this one, Screamer. This is going to help lower your baseline. You’re fighting being happy. You’re fighting the future. The future will come whether you want it or not. It’s on its way. I’d rather you enjoy it. You might think I’m being cruel now . . . but by the time I’m done . . .” She pinches my nipples. I scream, but nothing breaks. When she’s touching me, when she’s close, nothing breaks. She keeps that under control.

I can’t resist her. I can remember all of the medications, all of the treatments. There was the time with the pretty girl that let me sit in her lap while she just stroked my hair. They called her a therapist, counselor, something like that, but she didn’t talk at all. She just made me feel relaxed.

It’s hard to fight. It’s hard to think about before. There was something before the treatments . . . I used to have another name but I . . . I don’t remember it I . . .

Her legs are around my head. I’m not tonguing her pussy, but I can taste it on my lips. Her red heels are on either side of my head. The color makes my head swim. Her scent makes me feel hazy and weak. She’s saying something, but I’m too dizzy. Smelling her makes me feel so small and powerless. I can barely move.

Screams . . . Their voices . . . my friends . . . the ones before . . .

I wake up. Not in the facility. Wearing the dress she gave me for the dance. I try to climb out of the alleyway, but my legs are numb. Can’t stand, not all the way. Her taste is still on my lips. I can feel the others trying to scream over it.

Torn. Bruised. Sore. People close. Scream, but they don’t listen. Walking through so many people. Diamonds. Diamonds are real. They don’t shatter like people or glass when I scream.

Screamer . . . I’m . . . not . . . don’t want to . . .

Can’t stop screaming when they want me to scream. When she wants me to scream. The music that played in my headphones made me so tired[,] but I couldn’t stop dancing and touching myself. It was so embarrassing, especially when she was watching me. She loves watching me. She loves embarrassing me and making me like it. She just wants me to be whatever she wants me to be. She likes that I know that.

Can’t remember what I did wrong. Treatments weren’t working. Was getting louder, but wouldn’t just let her turn me off. Broke all of the windows. Didn’t want to. She was so angry at me. She was so furious.

“Sylvia! Sylvia, let go of her!” Someone is yelling at me, but I can’t hear them through my own scream. It feels so much quieter than it should. It feels so much softer than it should. Nothing feels like it’s breaking. My ears aren’t ringing. It confuses me. It’s confusing me. I feel so strange. I feel taller . . . “Sylvia!”

Hands pull me back, pull me away. It reminds me of when the women held me down. Dressed like nurses. Pills. Closed my mouth. Held my nose shut. Had to swallow. Couldn’t stop it. Made me stop fighting. I didn’t want to stop fighting.

I fall out of reality and into Nikki’s arms. Blinking very slowly, I look into her eyes. “I’m Sylvia.”

“Yeah. That change in the last five minutes? Everyone in the music store is okay, most of the mall, but you well . . . you were screaming. Banshee over there looked out cold in that nebula of yours.” My body feels incredibly stiff, but I can move well enough to look down at her. Screamer. I wish I knew her real name. She managed to fall against the display case and not into a pile of glass. “You okay? You kinda don’t seem it.”

Breathless. Damn, it’s hard to think like myself again. It didn’t even feel like I was in her head. It felt like it was happening. It felt real. It felt . . .

I shake my head. “That girl. Someone, some people, did something very awful to her. They were experimenting on her. They called her Screamer, but I don’t think that she chose the name. I think they did. I think they were trying to condition her, but it wasn’t working. She was fighting it. They tried something extreme, and then threw her out, or she escaped. Her head was broken up. She wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Sylv-Nebula, I guess? If that’s better? My ears are still ringing, and you look very pale. I think you fell on some of the glass, your leg doesn’t look so good. No police or EMTs have shown up yet. I think she probably broke some cellphones, and the alarm system.” Nikki doesn’t doubt me for a moment. She’s just worried. That makes me feel good.

“Feel a little bit weak. I think I lost some blood. Glass hurts.” I reach down and pull some of it out, just a little piece, and wince. I’m going to need some painkillers I can’t get over the counter.

Thinking of nurses makes me almost want to cry. The memories are too intense. I really was her for awhile. Where she stopped and I started, I couldn’t say. I just know that right now she needs me more than anyone else has ever needed me in my life. I need to be with her when she wakes up. I need to help her. I know I don’t have Sarah’s light to just magically pull her back to normal, but at least I can be there for her.

I try to stand on my own and fall back into Nikki’s arms. My body feels really cold, but not as bad as it did the night I saved Diane. My head is still spinning. I’m surprised my ears didn’t bleed.

Distant sirens sound, starting quietly before getting louder and louder.

“We both need to go to the hospital. You don’t have to go with, but I’m going with her. I’m worried whoever nabbed her once might try to do it again.” It’s almost scary to hear my own voice sound so serious. I’m supposed to be the silly singing LaSilvas. It’s the rest of the family that’s supposed to be serious.

Nikki nods and kisses my cheek. Her body feels so strong holding mine. I know I could melt her away and make her fall to her knees, but right now she’s supporting me. Her strength is already mine. I don’t need to take it away from her. “Sure thing. I’m coming with you though. I don’t think you should be alone with her, and if you’re going to get cocky and try the whole grappling with crazy girl thing again, you’ll need me there to pull you free again.”

I feel way too weak to use my powers even as an anesthetic. I don’t think I could merge with her mind again, but it is tempting to try. Sighing, I nuzzle against Nikki and close my eyes. “Thanks for pulling me free . . . and I . . . want you for more than just the sex.”

She doesn’t respond with words, but her hand does start to caress my hair. It feels nice to save a mall from a rampaging menace one minute, and be held the next. There are definitely some perks to the whole heroine thing.

A small place inside of me trembles. Oh shit. I was supposed to send someone a text message before I ran into the jewelry store. “Hey . . . think you could help get me to somebody with a phone? There’s a call I need to make.”