I've never had the slightest interest in a relationship of any kind—outside of with my family. I've never had a heartthrob on TV, or a singer in a band I've pined over. Friends have never been high on my agenda—and a “significant other" of any kind never even made my agenda … period, full stop. I'm an antisocial, eighteen-year-old cripple in a wheelchair, who has never entered puberty—so no big surprise there.

But when the door opens and this gorgeous Black God enters, my heart stops … then starts beating at a hard and very rapid pace. I take in a surprised deep breath at my own reaction to the sight of him and blush. I hear Momma J and Sis gasp, too. I look at them and wonder if they think he's a gorgeous hunk, too?

Momma J is looking past me at the hunk. “You're Race Cannon, President Cannon's son, right? My eyes aren't deceiving me?"

He bows with a grand flourish. “Guilty as charged!"

Sis giggles.

I look over at her and am suddenly jealous that she could have a chance with a guy like him. Not that she's old enough to, right now—but someday she will be. She'll be a beautiful young lady … and I'll still be a pathetic broken body in a wheelchair.

“Your Highness, meet Alex, Sarah, and Josie." Pinkie gestures to each of us as she introduces us.

I can't concentrate on that. All I can think about is that he's gorgeous … and what she called him. Your Highness? WTF? Gorgeous hunk or not—he's the eldest son of our second Black president … not some prince. Did I miss a major constitutional rewrite, or something?

He smiles brightly and shows off his gleaming white, perfectly straight teeth. His voice is deep and caresses my ears like a sweetly played bassoon. “It's nice to meet all of you. Alex, might I steal you away for a bit, while your sister finishes her evaluation?"

I melt in his gaze and feel myself blush as I dreamily nod. Like I'm going to say no! “Ummmm … sure. But I don't understand. This is all so … confusing!"

He gives me a smoldering look—or at least that's how I interpret it—and I dissolve even more. “I'll clear up what I can, but some things are going to take some time to explain—and some things will depend on you."

I'm not sure what to do with that cryptic response, but Momma J nods her approval. “Go with him, Hon. If you're not safe with the president's son, then you're not safe anywhere."

I'm surprised when he takes my chair's handles into his own hands, and I can smell his musky … and smoky(?) … cologne as he pushes me out the door. My heart pounds hard in my chest and a whole flock of butterflies flutters in my stomach. I don't say anything as he silently pushes me down the hall and into a well-lit corner office with a picturesque view of the Rose Garden.

He parks my chair where I have the best view—both out the window and of the chair that he sits in at a small conference table. The table is empty except for a wireless keyboard and computer mouse. I almost jump when he breaks the silence. “Would you like something to drink? Soda? Coffee? Water?"

I try and pull moisture back into my suddenly desert-dry mouth. I nod timidly and my voice squeaks and cracks a little. “I would actually die for some coffee—if it's not too weak. Otherwise, maybe a Pepsi?"

He smiles that million-dollar smile again and I would be weak in the knees if I could actually feel them. “Coffee—well espresso—it is, then! I abhor weak coffee! Do you take it black?"

I nod and try and push the strange erotic thoughts aside that are suddenly forcing their way into my mind. I have no idea why talking about strong, black coffee with this powerful, Black God is causing them. His broad shoulders are an indication that he's well-muscled in ways that I could never be. He has to be over six feet tall and he simply dwarfs me … or would, if I could stand next to him. His deep resonating voice is giving me literal shivers and is making me tingle in funny ways. “Please … and no sugar."

He smiles brighter and goes to an espresso machine in the corner, where he presses us both fresh nectar from heaven. He brings my cup over and sets it in front of me. Then he takes his and stands with his broad back to me, looking out the window in thought.

He takes a sip of his espresso and sighs, then turns back to me and gestures toward the window … or more accurately what is visible in the window. “Six years ago, my father was a newly-elected president and was giving a speech right down there. That speech was interrupted by two Dragons swooping in and announcing the rise of the Dragons and China's magical rule in the new world order. Do you happen to remember that moment?"

I reflect back to that day. We still lived in Washington State and Father still worked for Big Tech out there. None of us had been watching the speech live—I'm not even sure it was broadcast live—but we certainly saw it on the news as it broke in on regularly scheduled programming, not long after it happened … and then for days after that. Father acted really strange in the days following that event. He quit his job out west and moved us here to the national capitol region without a word of explanation … at least to me. If Mom knew why, she never said.

I jerk as I realize that he's still waiting on an answer and nod. “Yes. I remember." I take a sip of espresso to gather my wits and smile appreciatively at the strong jolt of caffeine.

He sits and nods. “I was there that day. It was a defining moment for me … I was fifteen and about a year into my late-onset puberty. My magic showed up shortly after that day. Magic that connects you and me."

I give him a perplexed look … not sure where he's headed with this. It's interesting that he has magic, though.

“Now, I understand you have war magic at your core." He gives me another brilliant smile that turns me into a gooey puddle and threatens to have me flow out of the chair and onto the floor. He suddenly gets up and goes to press us another espresso, leaving me in suspense. When he returns with my second cup, he grins and winks. “But our core magic is not what connects us. What connects us is our extremely rare red magic source."

I take a large sip of my espresso to cover my surprise and grimace as it burns my mouth. I blow on the rest and look over the edge of the cup and through the rising steam at his beautiful blue eyes. “So … I'm still not convinced that I have magic, let alone whether it's red, white, or blue. But for argument's sake … let's say I do. So, just what is red magic?"

He jumps up and returns to the window with a sigh. “I can't tell you. Not yet. We have a lot to discuss, and you have a lot to learn before I explain that." He turns back toward me, and his beautiful blue eyes focus on me, exuding sincerity. “But trust me. Red magic is real … and you have it. It's just untapped. Pinkie first felt it and Cat confirmed it. I can also sense it."

I sit there silently for several minutes and just look at him, then drain my cup before I get lost in those eyes again and grimace once more—this time because the espresso has turned slightly tepid. I take a deep breath. “Okay. I'll take your word on that … for the moment. If we can't talk about that, then what do we talk about? Why am I here?"

He sits back down and takes the small keyboard in his hands. He taps out something and blackout shades descend over the windows. A movie screen descends, and a projector pops out of the ceiling and starts warming up. “What I'm about to show you is top secret. We have vetted you and I'm confident that I can trust you. But I'm going to ask first—can I trust you? Will you keep what I'm about to divulge to yourself—even from your sister and foster mother? I need your word."

The room is now pitch black, except for the cone of light coming from the projector and shining on the white screen.

WTF? Top Secret? He's trusting me? With what? This is so weird …. “I mean sure. I guess. As long as you don't want me to cover up something illegal or immoral. I won't do that, so don't test me!"

He laughs and it gives me more shivers. Not creepy ones … but the tingly ones that start me thinking erotic thoughts again. I don't even have what it takes to be erotic—physically or hormonally—so I have no idea where they are coming from. “Deal!" He types some more, and a grainy video starts playing on the screen. He pauses it as soon as it starts and looks over at me.

My eyes have better adjusted to the darkness, and I shiver at his gaze. I push the confusing and unbidden thoughts aside. I focus on the screen and the paused picture and can't help but blurt out my surprise. “Are those Tyrannosaurus Rexes? Don't tell me … you're a budding sci-fi director and want to do a remake of Jurassic Park? I'm sorry to say that the retro-staticky grain and black-and-white picture don't do it for me. The whole Blaire Witch vibe went out a long time ago." I can't help but feel let down. But I still can't get his beautiful blue eyes out of my mind, so I dreamily focus on them as I dismiss his failed attempt at sci-fi.

He wordlessly presses “Play" and points to the screen.

I sigh and watch a very bizarre video of some sort of compound that contains multiple T. Rexes, Ankylosaurs, and Triceratopses. I know this has to be some sort of fake because they're all commingling and seemingly getting along—even though it seems to be a strained truce and they occasionally snap at each other. After a few minutes, I see a dragon fly in and all of the dinosaurs fall into line like soldiers. I shake my head. “This is a weird movie. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. I don't think you have a blockbuster here!"

He snorts. “This is satellite feed from China from three days ago. A feed that they allowed to come through."

I drop the bone china espresso cup that I had been absentmindedly playing with. It has the official White House seal on it and thankfully it doesn't shatter. “You're telling me this is real? That is … difficult to believe."

“I understand." He nods and has a dead-serious look on his face. “Like your magic, it nonetheless is real … and true." He types some more and the feed switches. Suddenly there are about three times the number of dinosaurs present—including some Velociraptors. There are also two dragons visible. “This is a live feed."

“Velociraptors? Why does this really seem like a bad remake of Jurassic Park? How do you know they aren't somehow hacking the satellite feed? This seems … too bizarre." I look at the two dragons and gasp as I think I recognize them—not that I'm a dragon expert or know how to tell them apart. But these look like them. “Are those the two dragons that showed up here that day?"

He nods and growls. “Yes. They're building an army—an illegal one—and they're flaunting it. It's no hack. What you are seeing is real."

I shake my head. An illegal army. Is there such a thing? I don't know how to respond. Finally, I laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Okay. Again … I'll take your word for it. I don't know what you would gain by trying to dupe me with this. I also don't get what this even has to do with me." I pause and try to get my brain to wrap itself around reality again.

I look up and fall into the depths of those bottomless blue eyes and grasp at straws to pull myself back to sanity. “I … I … I mean … Did I hear Pinkie right? Did she call you, 'Your Highness'? What is that about? A nickname maybe?"

He guffaws as those beautiful blues crinkle in mirth. “Something like that. I'll tell you about it, some day—as soon as I can explain red magic to you. It really is a fascinating story how I came to be called that. But one step at a time!"

The drive home is shrouded in awkward silence. None of us really want to talk openly with Pinkie in the van escorting us. Not that we don't trust her—we just want to talk in private. I groan inwardly knowing that I can't speak about anything that I learned, no matter what. I made a promise, and I will honor it—not that they would believe a word of what I would divulge, anyway. I mean, even I don't completely believe it. But I'm not looking forward to having to keep the secret, either way.

When we're in the house alone, we all sit around the kitchen table waiting for the pizza to be delivered that Momma J ordered on the ride home. Thankfully Pinkie declined the invitation to eat with us. I think she sensed we needed our privacy.

I look at Sis and can't hold back anymore. “So, what happened while I was in my meeting with Race?"

She giggles. “Wait? I have to go first? What about you?"

I sigh and hang my head. “I can't talk about my meeting. I … gave my word. It's classified …."

“Why should I talk about my stuff then?" Sis pouts petulantly.

Momma J slaps her lightly on the wrist. “Sarah! If Alex gave his word and was trusted with classified information, then we have to just let our curiosity eat us up. But we can't expect him to break his word … or a trust placed in him."

Sarah sticks out her bottom lip and sighs. “I know. But it sucks!" She smiles to let me know she's not really mad at me. “Anyway. I practiced calling on and controlling my healing magic with Ginger. Now, don't think I can really call on it on demand … or control it when it decided to be nice and show itself. But we practiced quite a bit and it left me … drained. So, something was happening."

At that moment, the doorbell rings and Momma J goes to accept the pizzas. There is a gust of hot wind that blows through the house when she opens the door, making it seem like she's taking them straight out of the oven. She comes back and places the two stacked large pizza boxes on the table. The smell makes my mouth water. I'm starving!

Sis opens the boxes as Momma J gets paper plates. She takes a piece of the pepperoni
and places it on one of the plates and then hands it to me. “At least there's no secret that you like pepperoni!" She giggles.

We dig in and just enjoy the food in silence while we eat our first piece, then Momma J doles out the next round and picks up the conversation. “Okay. So, you both are scheduled back there tomorrow morning. You're excused from school again, Sarah … and it's a good thing that you're on an asynchronous schedule, Alex. There's no telling how long they will want you to keep coming in. Anyway, Pinkie will pick you up at seven. I have to work the early shift, so you'll be on your own. I guess I can trust the White House to take care of you!" She winks. “This is all rather … unsettling, though."

I grimace. “You think?" She gives me a dark look and I blush and grin. “Sorry! I mean … duh!"

“You're a piece of work, young man!" She waves me off. “Just because you're eighteen and got a top secret briefing from the president's son doesn't mean I can't still discipline you! How does a week without coffee sound?" She giggles at my horrified face.

I know she's kidding. But I also know she's right. I need to get my mouth under control. Being anti-social is no excuse for being rude. “I'm sorry, Momma J … sometimes things just slip out. I'm working on it." I play with the new photo ID still dangling around my neck. We all got one and they will gain us access to the West Wing without an escort, should we ever need it. I lift it up and wave it around. “But you're one hundred percent correct—this is just outright weird!"

Sis talks a little more about working with Ginger, but it's hard for me to concentrate on what she's saying, since I can't relate to what she's talking about without having experienced it. At least Momma J was there to witness it. Race's eyes keep entering my thoughts … and the shivers he gave me when he laughed and talked.

After about an hour, I consolidate the leftovers into one pizza box and then place both boxes on my lap to clean up. I roll over to the refrigerator and put the full box inside and throw the empty one in the recycling. “I think I'm going to go to bed. I'm pretty beat, and it will be an early day, tomorrow. Sis, can you stop by my room before you go to bed?"

She nods and I roll over to give Momma J a hug. I may be eighteen, but I still give her one every night. “Good night, Momma J. Sleep well!"

“You too, Hon. Sweet dreams!" She hugs me back and kisses me on the cheek before I roll to my room.

I've brushed my teeth and am in bed by the time Sis comes in. She has a wary expression on her face and her lips are pursed in thought. “What's up, Bro? I know that look and I'm not sure I like it! It always means trouble—usually for me." She kind of growls at me.

I give her my best angelic look and smile. “Will you please 'zap' me? I want to see if I can feel my legs again."

“Absolutely not! Alex, I don't know what I'm doing! I still don't know what I'm doing to you!" She's vehemently shaking her head.

“Hear me out, Sis! I know you're scared of your new powers, but I can feel my … connection to you getting stronger. It's been there ever since 'the event' … always in the background, but it was there. I never understood it. I still don't get it. But after Ginger held your hands on me today, I could feel it get stronger … and somehow I just know that it won't let you hurt me." I give her a pleading look. If I could get on my knees and beg her, I would.

She's still shaking her head, but not as viciously. “I've felt the connection, too. I've never understood it, either. Cat, Ginger, and Rob want to explore it more when they can get us together long enough. I just don't want to hurt you. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, too. I could never forgive myself if I hurt you!"

I feel tears well up in my eyes and force myself to quell them. “I know, Sis. I feel the same way about you. But … if there is even the slightest chance that I could at least feel my legs again, I have to take it. Please?"

She shudders … and sighs. “I'm not going to maintain contact for long … not until I know more about what I'm doing. Okay?"

I nod. I won't get any better offer, I know. Sis can be really stubborn. I take a deep breath and relax in my bed. “Okay. I'll take what you can give me."

She shakes her head again. “I hope we don't both regret this!" She seems to withdraw into her own mind to gather her confidence … and timidly places her hands on my bare chest.

I feel the initial “zap" and her reluctance to continue – both through her initial reflex to pull back her hands … and through our strengthening link. She forces her hands to maintain contact with my skin and the “zap" quickly turns into a tingling flow—like an electric current running from her fingers to the molten mass in my back. It's like the metal is a lightning rod … attracting and absorbing the current. Then I can feel a tingle in my legs—like a really bad case of them waking up from “going to sleep." It hurts, but it feels good at the same time. I can feel them!

I can't keep this up! I don't know what I'm doing, and I can tell he's in pain!

I gasp and my eyes jerk up to Sis. It's good pain! I can feel my legs!

Her eyes go wide as she hears my thoughts—the same as I had heard hers. She jerks her hands back in surprise—just as I feel my toes curl.

“No! Keep it up! Don't stop!" The feeling is already disappearing from my legs, even if the heat is still palpable in my back. “My toes were moving!" I look at her … my eyes begging. All I can focus on is that thought.

She's panting and her brow is glistening with sweat. “I … I … I heard you in my mind! You were communicating telepathically with me! I … I …."

It settles in that I did hear her in my mind. But it doesn't matter. “Yes. Maybe! So what? You have to keep on! I could feel my toes move! That's all that matters!"

She shakes her head. “I can't, Alex!" She seems to concentrate, like she's trying to send me a thought.

I don't hear her in my head, anymore—and she doesn't seem to hear me. If she did, she would hear my frantic shouts. Please keep going!

“I can't hear you in my head anymore. That was weird. I have to think about this … talk to Ginger … I'm not saying I won't try again. We just need guidance … and I need to understand what the fuck just happened!"

That shocks me so much that I start laughing. Sis does not cuss … not at all. It brings it home to me just how freaking weird that was. “Okay. But I'm not giving up on this. Sis! My toes moved … and I could feel it!"

She hugs me—sadly without a zap. She must have learned enough to control the flow and prevent it from happening. “We'll figure it out. I promise. And we'll get more than just your toes moving." But we have to do it right!

I stiffen as I hear her voice in my head again. I push a thought toward her. I love you, Sis!

She gasps and jerks back as my message comes across to her. The mental connection breaks once again as soon as we're no longer touching each other. We're both visibly shaken as she whispers to me. “Good night, Bro. Hopefully we can get some answers, tomorrow!" She doesn't touch me again and quickly closes the door behind her as she hurries out.

I have a restless night and wild dreams when I finally fall asleep. There's still the slightest residual tingle in my legs that keeps me from fitfully sleeping—or is it just my imagination?