Free Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select) by Natalie J. Damschroder

brain. She hadn’t noticed that sound was muffled until she could suddenly hear again, excited chatter and revving engines and shouting voices. Colors went from tinted grays back to brilliant oranges and reds, gleaming blacks and blues. She took off, dashing around people but swerving close to their cars. Light flashed off chrome trim and wire antennas. Her fingers brushed metal as she went, something other than conscious recognition guiding her touch to the smallest bits of her source within reach.
    Small infusions of strength fed her muscles, her pounding heart and aching lungs, and by the time she reached Sam’s side, her shock had been displaced by determination.
    “There.” Sam turned his attention from the crowd to the forklift. It lay on its side, canted where the body jutted out wider than the base, the man’s entire lower half pinned near the spot where metal met concrete.
    Riley nodded, recognizing the leverage point Sam indicated. “But they won’t let me over there.”
    “I’ll distract them.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, didn’t ask if she was up for it, just assumed she was.
    She firmed her jaw, clenched her fists, and strode after him. She damn well would be up for this. Especially if she’d caused it.
    No. Guilt wouldn’t help. She banished the idea and slipped between barrels. Under the shadow of the overpass, the moans and thumps of vehicles speeding above echoed around them, covering shouted orders among the crew. The crane operator and some of the workers had gotten the I-beam safely to bare ground, half on the grass, half on the cracked concrete of the road. All the workers gathered around the trapped man. A couple tried to wedge a long chunk of concrete under the forklift, but it wouldn’t fit. Hands shoved at the tipped-over lift, but of course, no one was strong enough to budge it, and the positioning made it impossible to get enough people around it to combine their efforts.
    Sam squeezed through the crowd, calling out instructions with enough authority that no one questioned him. Riley watched for a moment as they folded cloth to put under the guy’s head, held a water bottle for him to drink from, and bent close to Sam when he asked the guy questions.
    When everyone’s attention was on Sam and the injured man, Riley hurried to the equipment. Her ridiculous, arrogant fantasy spun through her mind. She didn’t know if she could even raise the small forklift.
    Her bare hands landed on the cold metal, followed by the familiar sensation of everything about her body becoming more , and relief filled her. Now to figure out the best way to do this.
    Leverage.
    She turned her back to the machine and bent her knees, bracing herself against it and curling her hands around a lip above the gas cap. She closed her eyes, willing strength into her legs. For the first time, she concentrated on drawing energy from the metal. No, not from it. Through it. She could sense it, like flowing water except totally insubstantial, detected only in an eerie sense of movement out of the metal into her hands. She clenched her jaw, tightened her muscles, and heaved, shoving with her legs and pulling energy at the same time.
    The forklift rose. Only a few inches, but Sam shouted something, other people yelled, something scraped across the ground, and the forklift became suddenly heavier. She strained not to let it drop and opened her eyes. Several feet of empty space between the machine and the crowd gave her permission to let go. But that would call attention to her, so she held on. Every muscle screamed so hard she almost gave voice to the pain, her mouth opening wide. But the sound only vibrated in her ears, externally silent. She slowly bent her legs and lowered the machine to the ground. As soon as she released it, she collapsed.
    Riley gasped for breath, drawing up her knees and begging silently for the muscles in her legs to stop hurting so damned much. Suddenly, the screaming in her ears died into a