Exposed: Burned, #3

By J. Nichole Parkins

Fiona Jennings sees things that should stay hidden. 

 

The powerful clairvoyant—terrified of her unstable powers—hasn't left her home in years. She believes her self-imposed cage is safe.

 

Until danger knocks on her front door. 

 

Forced to flee, Fiona finds refuge in the least likely place, surrounded by strangers with powers of their own. A Grounder with a southern drawl that melts more than just her resolve to stay distant, a ghost with a perverted sense of humor, and a tempestuous shifter that connects them all.

 

But the sanctuary hides more than its share of secrets.

 

Nightmarish visions strip away her sanity and danger comes from more directions than even the best Seer can predict.

Under constant pressure, will she weather the danger that's coming? Or perish in the storm?

 

 

Exposed is a full-length (80k+) paranormal romance/urban fantasy. Recommended for 18+ due to language and sexual situations. Exposed is the third book in a 4-book series. While the plot wraps up, this book does end in a cliffhanger that continues throughout the series.

 

Burned (Book 1) - Available Now 

Deceived (Book 2) - Available Now

Exposed (Book 3) - Available Now

Divided (Book 4) - Releasing 2024

 

*The Burned Series deals with subject matter that may be sensitive for some readers.*

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Nichole Parkins
• Release date: Aug 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386984733

J. Nichole Parkins

J. Nichole Parkins loves drama – as long as it’s fictional. She twists the real and unreal, weaving elements found in folklore and myth to create emotional reads with a punch. Mother of three, freelance consultant, and podcast producer extraordinaire, Jamee lives in a state of organized chaos. She fled south to escape the snow, although she spends the majority of her time avoiding the sun. Head in the clouds as often as it is behind a screen, she is never without a story brewing or a book (or three) in her purse. She can be found in quiet places, which is her natural habitat. Approach cautiously, she tends to run.

Book preview

Chapter One

There were one hundred and four steps from my front door to the street. One hundred and four exactly. I knew because I’d counted them, mourned their loss as my world shrank a little every year.

And how does that make you feel? Dr. Zak Brenninger’s deep voice surrounded me, dragging me back into the present. I leaned against the doorjamb and gazed at my front yard, one I hadn’t fully crossed in almost three years.

I whipped my head around, meeting the steady gaze of his clear blue eyes as he waited—a pillar of patience—for my answer.

"How do you think that makes me feel, doctor?" I flung my words at him, stripping him of his name, degrading him to a title.

Unable to hold his weighty stare any longer, I shifted my focus to the black polish on my toenails instead. Our required hour was almost up. I could ignore him for the rest of the session.

The ticking clock mocked my resistance. My petulance fell away as swiftly as it had appeared. I bit my lip to hold back the apology I knew he deserved.

Fiona, Zak sighed. I’m here to help. Please don’t shut me out.

It was the please that got me. It always did.

You’re mean.

He knew my weaknesses.

I refused to shift my gaze from my feet. The polish was chipped, and a few nails were ragged. I added a manicure to my list of things to accomplish today.

It was a short list.

And you’re acting like my five-year-old niece. He was right, but that didn’t make the gentle barb hurt any less.

Aren’t you supposed to be helping me? Instead, you’re calling me names. Mocking me.

I’ve obviously struck a nerve, Fiona. Why is that?

"I’m tired of talking about how I feel. I stumbled to my couch and sank into the soft cushions. Stacking pillows around me, I built a fort between us. Can’t you just leave it alone for once? Leave me alone?"

A small space opened between the floral pillow I had mercilessly frayed and a gray chevron print my mom had dropped off last week. I peeked through the opening. The new pillow smelled like chemicals and plastic and kept me from his seeking eyes.

You know that isn’t an option.

Once a week for the last four years we’d sat in this very spot, doing some variation of this same thing.

I’ll be here until I either shut down my practice or … he trailed off.

We both knew the unspoken alternative would never happen. I’d never be fixed, nothing would ever change—unless you counted my continued unraveling.

My world shrank year by year as fear consumed me.

He still had hope that things would change, still came week after week despite little to no progress. Despite my constant moodiness and occasional resistance.

We’d argued about it over and over. He knew better than to mention a full recovery. The last time he slipped I’d refused to talk to him for two weeks.

Fine. My azure eyes met his, snapping fire. "I feel angry. Wouldn’t you?"

We aren’t here to talk about me.

I made a frustrated noise in the back of my throat and threw the abused floral pillow at him. It hit him square in the face, knocking his glasses free. We both watched as they tumbled through the air and bounced on the floor, landing unharmed on my soft carpet.

I let out a breath. It trembled on its way out.

He stabbed his fingers through his hair, mussing the dark waves. My gaze lingered on the flex of muscles in his arm as he retrieved the fallen glasses. He tossed them onto the coffee table and kicked his shoes up beside them.

My lips pinched together in censure, which he ignored. I waited a second, then two. The words rushed out, Zak, you know I hate feet on my furniture.

I’m back to Zak?

Why do we still have to do this? I’ve only gotten worse. It’s not that I wanted our visits to end—far from it. I could no longer imagine my life without him in it. But I just wanted the fun parts: the friendship, the movies, the popcorn binges.

Our relationship had started out pretty formal but after so many years he’d become a friend as well as my shrink. One of my only friends at this point.

I know. A shadow moved in front of his eyes, softening his steady gaze. But I’m not giving up on you. I never will. His smile was soft, gentle. You know how much I care for you.

My heart clenched, and the pain robbed me of my breath. I punctuated the air with a cough to cover the silence and revive the wilted organs.

He didn’t mean it, not how I wanted him to. But oh, how I craved it. I was starved for love, frozen in time in this shrinking box.

I was in love with my therapist.

How stupid was that?

Nothing would ever come of it. He didn’t see me that way—never would. I was a puzzle to figure out, a friend in need of help. Nothing more.

None of it mattered anyway.

I was untouchable. Literally.

* * *

A single touch was all it took.

With a brush of my fingers I could see someone’s deepest secrets, tiptoe through their memories. It was an unforgivable invasion of privacy, one I had no control over.

This curse had stolen my life and left me trapped, trapped in this house and this mockery of a life.

It wasn’t always like this. In the beginning I’d used my strange new powers to help people.

My stomach plummeted as my mind threatened a trip down memory lane. It was better to forget how things used to be. Less painful anyway.

I shoved the rest of the pillows onto the floor with my memories and stalked into the kitchen. Zak knew better than to follow me; I only allowed visitors in the living room.

My house was my sanctuary, the only one I had.

So, Miss Jennings, what are we watching tonight? Zak’s voice followed me. I peeked my head into the hall and barely held back my sigh.

His feet were still propped on my coffee table, but he’d leaned back, hands resting behind his head. The definition in his arms made me ache. I wanted to trace the lines of muscle.

He looked relaxed, content. Happy, even.

My curiosity burned along with my cheeks.

You making popcorn? He turned his head just in time to catch me staring. His sapphire eyes met mine.

Of course. I rushed back into the kitchen and away from his sharp gaze.

I pulled off my gloves, my skin tingling with the sudden freedom. I always wore gloves when someone was in my house. A final barrier, my extra precaution against an accidental vision.

I threw a scoop of kernels into a hot oiled pan. "Wayne’s World," I shouted, answering his previous question.

Exqueeze me? Baking powder? He threw the lines at me.

That man.

A smile worked its way onto my face despite my stormy mood. I turned down the heat on the popcorn and covered it with the lid as the corn burst to life. The pinging of the kernels against the metal cover mimicked the erratic beating of my heart.

It was difficult to be in a bad mood around him. He knew more about me than anyone on this planet, and he used it to make me as happy as he could.

Once the sounds quieted and there was no risk of escaping kernels, I poured the hot popcorn into two bowls I’d set on a tray.

My stomach twisted as I yanked my black and pink gloves back on. The thick fabric made eating popcorn frustrating, but I’d do anything to avoid the visions.

Should I put on a different movie? You don’t need to suffer through it again. I tried not to stumble as his mega-watt smile kicked me in the chest as I walked back into the living room.

Hell no! It’s a classic.

I handed him his bowl, my gloved fingers far from his.

My smile froze as a film covered my eyes.

No.

I stiffened. Colors muted around me. Blood rushed through my veins. The sound drowned out everything else. My senses dulled as the world around me faded around the edges.

And then everything went dark.

Chapter Two

Sunlight burst through a row of windows. I squinted against the glare and scanned the room. The hardwood floors and gray walls of my living room were replaced with tile and white paneling.

I stood in the center of a large room, surrounded by tables and chairs. A couple sat in one.

Flame-red hair danced around her. Elegant and poised, she perched on her seat as if she were holding court at a ball, instead of eating lunch at a restaurant. Her bright green eyes were intense, but the weight in their depths was too familiar.

Red painted lips curled into a smile.

Her companion’s back was to me, but I knew. I felt him. Zak.

His longing for the redhead gouged into my chest. My blood pooled at my feet as my heart cleaved in two but still beat. I pressed my fist to the open wound, but the pressure gave no relief.

Before I could mourn the loss of something that never existed, the vision changed. Flashes of light pulsed. Images sped through my mind too fast to make out. My mouth opened and words that weren’t mine spilled from my lips as I was forced to be a bystander in my own body.

"You met someone recently. A redhead. The voice that used my mouth was hollow, as empty as my heart. She’s approaching the crossroad."

My mind spun as panic clawed up my throat. What was happening to me?

Fiona? Zak’s voice was distant and threaded with worry. What’s going on?

"Your meeting was a vital cog in a series of events unfolding around us. My mouth was a desert, my lips continued to shape words beyond my control. Don’t let her push you from her. She will shift the balance, not only in her life, but all of ours."

My sight returned in a dizzying rush and I staggered on weak legs, catching myself on the arm of the couch. I leaned against it, trembling.

My heart, still tight with pain, galloped with breakneck speed.

"What was that?" Zak echoed my thoughts.

I was wearing gloves. My voice broke on the last word and I sank to the rug. I stared at my gloved hands, turning them over as I struggled to process what had just happened. There were no holes, no rips or tears to expose my skin. They were safely cocooned in their false protection.

If I could cut them off and end my torment, I would. But it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t solve anything.

Have you ever had a-a premonition like that before?

I blinked.

Was that what that was?

No. My lungs squeezed air through a tiny straw. I wasn’t getting any oxygen. My heart pounded a rhythm that overwhelmed everything.

Fiona, Zak cautioned. Breathe. In and out. Focus on your breath, on the steady movement. He sank to the carpet in front of me, his eyes filled my vision.

Deep blue, like a dark lake. The irises narrowed as his pupils widened. I focused on them, the threads of dark lines that shifted with the shadows. On him.

Everything else seeped through my fingers and evaporated.

Surrounded by him I could breathe again.

Did you—

Zak nodded. I felt some of it. I could feel you inside my head. He swallowed, and my eyes slipped from his to watch the movement of his throat.

Wetness slid down my cheeks. I swiped at the tears. They bled into the fabric of my gloves and darkened the pink squares. This curse keeps getting worse.

Zak’s lips tightened in a grimace. I fled from the pity in his eyes. I hated seeing it there.

I shoved myself from the floor and shifted so the chair was between us. A redhead, huh? I forced through a throat thick with tears.

His gaze darted around the room as he dragged his fingers through his hair. Yeah, her name is Arabella—Ari.

I fought the pain, fought the hollow ache where my heart used to be as my fledgling feelings burst into flames and fell to ash at his feet.

Goosebumps broke out along my arms.

Dominoes were being set up around me. I was part of a game with no rulebook.

Where would I be when the pieces fell?

* * *

Fiona!

I rolled over in bed and pulled the pillow over my ears.

The pounding invaded my cocoon anyway. The sound was incessant.

Go away! I yelled and ducked back into my sanctuary. Whoever it was could go to hell. I was in no mood for visitors.

There were few things I could actually control in my life. Who I let into my house was one of them.

God dammit, Fiona! Let me in the fucking house.

I’d slept little, tossing and turning most of the night as the anxiety about my vision had overwhelmed me. The feeling of being out of control, of being present but not in my own body, was one of the worst parts about this curse, or whatever it was.

The scene played on auto repeat. Over and over it invaded my thoughts, stealing my sleep.

Something was coming. Something was invading my world. And it would shake things up with or without my consent.

As my curse changed, increased in strength, where did it leave me? The real me, the girl whose life was stolen away when it had barely begun?

Was I just some pawn in a game that I had no control over?

My front door swung open. The wood smacked against the drywall, followed by the sound of keys hitting the floor.

God dammit, Fi. Get your ass out here or I’m coming in.

I sighed and dragged myself out of bed and pulled my gloves on. My bare feet thudded against the hardwood as I walked to the front of the house.

Finn, my brother, glared at me from the living room, his arms ladened with bags. I did your grocery shopping, the least you could do is open the goddamn door.

Will you stop saying that. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and padded closer, careful to keep my distance. He’d set the pile of bags in front of the dining room, the closest I’d allow anyone into my domain.

God dammit. God dammit. God dammit. His blue eyes peeked through shaggy blond hair, daring me to stop him.

When are you getting a haircut? You look like an unkempt med student. I grabbed several bags. The gloves on my hands kept the heavy plastic from digging into my skin.

I’m a resident. It’s basically the same, his eyes filled with mischief, "goddamn thing."

I pressed my lips together but didn’t fuel the fire.

The mischief fled as he took in my appearance. Rough night? Concern filled every feature, throwing gasoline on my already sour mood.

I spun and stomped into the kitchen with the load. You could say that. I debated how much to tell him, but I knew I couldn’t keep anything from my twin.

Flicking on the already prepared coffeemaker, I returned for the rest. After it finished brewing, I left him a disposable cup filled to the brim on the table—guest always got disposable cups. I couldn’t risk any lingering memories. It’s as black as your soul, dear brother.

Funny, he deadpanned. He turned his back to me while I put away the groceries, watching the world from my window like I often did. He could come and go as he pleased between my world and reality. Must be nice.

Thanks for getting the groceries. I could’ve had some delivered. Shame filled me at having to rely on him like that. Especially now that he was working trauma in the ER.

"No problemo, Fi. Gives me an excuse to come by and harass you."

You know you never need an excuse.

He grunted, and I heard him flop into a chair.

After I emptied the last bag, I brought my coffee and sank onto the couch. He barely gave me a second before he demanded, Spill it.

I gnawed on the tip of my glove as I organized my thoughts. I had a vision while Zak was here yesterday.

He waited for me to continue, knowing I’d get there in my own time.

I-I was wearing gloves. My eyes stung as tears threatened.

Strong?

Yes, but that’s not even the worst part. I swallowed a mouthful of coffee and picked each word carefully, watching the expression change on his face from concern to shock as I described yesterday’s disaster.

Has that ever happened before?

Never.

We sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts. I watched him as I struggled to push aside my worry. My twin was like me in so many ways—the same blond hair and crystalline blue eyes. Same fair skin, although mine was a pale alabaster after hiding indoors for so long.

But I was the only one with this curse.

We never talked about it, but I knew. He felt guilty that he couldn’t share my burden. Since he was able to live his life, and I wasn’t, he lived his twice as hard. He partied hard, he worked hard, and he did everything in his power to make my life easier.

What was the prophecy?

A chill danced along my skin when I repeated the words I’d been forced to say.

The lines between his brows deepened. Sounds ominous. His fingers flexed around his cup. The paper bent under his grip. What are you going to do?

Do? I frowned. "I can’t do anything."

He narrowed his eyes. Can’t or won’t?

I growled in frustration and crossed my arms. I don’t have a choice.

But if you did, which one would you make? He gestured around him. The safety you know. He pinned me with his sharpened gaze. The scrutiny made me squirm. Or the freedom you don’t?

Freedom of course. I was shocked he would think otherwise. There’s no question. I don’t like being stuck here. I shoved to my feet, my coffee forgotten on the side table. I’ve done everything to fix this. Meditation, yoga, Qigong. I’ve spilled my guts to Zak for years. And while he’s managed to keep me from offing myself, Finn flinched, it just keeps getting worse. I balled my fists at my sides. No one can get rid of this curse. I’m stuck in this house like a caged rat. My chest heaved as I sucked in air.

Why was he acting like this?

I unclenched my fists and wiped my sweaty hands on my pants.

If this prophecy-thing is true—

My head whipped up. If? Did he think I was making it up?

He held up his palm. Just hear me out, Fi. He shifted on the couch and held my gaze. Doesn’t all of this—the visions, the prophecy, all of it—doesn’t it make you think that there’s a purpose to everything?

What? I pinched my lips.

That there’s a reason you’re like this. That you might not have a choice in the matter and be made to leave your little safety-bubble?

Cage, Finn. It’s a cage.

Four years ago I’d tried my hand at normal, and it ended in disaster. One that landed me a trip to the nut-house and a therapist who made home visits.

A therapist I now had a crush on. Pathetic.

He flexed his jaw. One day, you’re going to be forced from your comfort zone. You’re going to be forced to face what you can do. You and those amazing powers are a piece of a giant, complex puzzle. And one day—one day you’re going find out where you fit.

Curse.

What?

"You called what I have powers. It’s a curse."

He exhaled in a rush, and his frown deepened. I knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Maybe. Maybe not. He shrugged. I’ve never looked at your power as a curse.

It was too much. I exploded. You aren’t the one living with it! The moment the words escaped, I regretted them. I would have taken them back if I could.

He swallowed, guilt mixed with the sorrow in his eyes. I’d take it if I could. His voice was little more than a whisper, but I flinched.

I know you would. I sank back into the cushions. The urge to hug him was strong, almost overwhelming. But I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t want to see inside his head. I didn’t want to lose myself a little more.

Because that’s what it felt like.

Every vision, every trip through someone’s head, made me feel like I was less me. I was worried that one day I would disappear entirely.

I’m glad you have Zak.

My lips twisted into a small smile. I know you talk to him too. You and mom.

He shrugged, not embarrassed in the least. Who else can we talk to about this? Everyone else would think we were certifiable. At least he knows it’s real.

I shifted, the need to comfort my brother urgent and strong. It coiled inside me. I wrapped my arms around myself to stave it off.

Have you ever thought … I bit my lip, unsure how to explain exactly what I was thinking. Since what I do is real, some of the other stuff must be true?

His brows lowered, and he tilted his head. Like what?

My eyes met his, determined to get through it. I met a couple of other people when I worked with Uncle Don. Finn’s eyes widened. I never talked about that time. Never. He had another project on the side, one that he was very tight-lipped about.

Fiona, he’s in the FBI—

I know, I cut him off. While I was finding missing people and helping him catch murderers, Finn’s expression darkened. He opened his mouth and I held up my hand. I caught snippets of conversations, occasional memories.

I shook my head.

I had to put effort into reading people back then. There were people like me, that were able to do weird things. And … He was going to think I was even crazier. And other things. I hesitated and blurted out, non-human things.

I held my breath, waiting for his laughter. It never came.

I won’t dismiss it. His folded his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. You exist. Who knows what else is out there? The weight of his gaze as it returned to mine was unsettling.

I wished he’d laughed it off. The thoughts had been pinging around in my head for years. I wanted to put them aside as silly.

But I had a feeling Finn knew more than he was saying.

He looked at his watch and frowned. I need to go. My shift starts in an hour and I’ve got Howard Franklin traffic to deal with.

He walked out the door. I wanted to beg him to stay.

I even opened my mouth, the words hovering on the tip of my tongue.

I wanted company in my little cage.

But guilt kept the words trapped on my tongue. I had no right to ask that.

I waved as he walked down the steps even though I wanted nothing more than to run after him. Hug him. Never let him go.

I shut the door on my dangerous thoughts and leaned against it, trapping myself in safety.

My legs trembled beneath my weight as memories of the padded cell invaded my thoughts. With no one to see them, I let the tears fall. I felt so lost in that padded room. It took me so long to find myself, to return to being me.

As fear tightened its hold on my throat I wondered, if I was given the opportunity to choose, would I really make the right choice? Or would I let the fear keep me captive?

Chapter Three

You can’t ask me to do this! I threw the words across the room, terrified to get close to the wild-eyed man standing in the center of my living room. Zak’s hair stuck up in a rumpled mess, his chin dark with stubble. Fear twisted his features; he was almost unrecognizable.

She’s missing, Fiona. The thickness in his voice almost unraveled my resolve. Ari is missing.

Sorry, Zak. He