Shadowed (Fated)

by Sarah Alderson

  Cyrus strode past, catching her by the hand and pulling her towards the café section of the store.

  ‘You need to eat something, get some sugar into your bloodstream.’

  ‘I’m not feeling hungry.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ he answered, his hands busy rummaging under the counter. ‘You need to get your strength back.’

  She watched him pull out a plate, then slide back the glass on the refrigerated display shelf. She needed to get her strength back for round two. That’s what he was saying. She closed her eyes, feeling the ground somersault its way towards her.

  ‘Cupcake?’

  ‘OK,’ she whispered.

  Cyrus grabbed a couple and set them on a plate. Then he opened the fridge. ‘Milk? Juice?’ he asked over his shoulder.

  ‘Water,’ Evie answered. ‘Do you do this often?’

  ‘What?’ Cyrus asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

  ‘Bring girls back to your mum’s store and woo them with day-old cupcakes?’

  ‘Yeah, then I read them quotes from Milan Kundera, occasionally some Rilke, you know, if I think it might help.’

  ‘Help?’

  ‘You know, get them into bed.’

  Evie opened her mouth to yell at him.

  He burst out laughing. ‘I’m kidding. I don’t know,’ he shrugged. ‘Maybe I used to. I don’t remember.’

  She glared at him for a moment and then suddenly she was laughing too.

  ‘Come on,’ Cyrus said, still grinning, picking up the plate with the cupcakes and the water. ‘This I do remember.’

  She followed him towards the door at the back of the store that opened into the stairwell. They went past Margaret’s office and up another flight. Cyrus pushed open the door to an attic room with skylights set into the flat roof. There were two sofas and a couple of bean bags, a stash of magazines piled messily in one corner, heaps of books – some with their spines bent back as if whoever was here had just been disturbed mid-way through reading a chapter.

  ‘What is this place?’

  ‘I used to hang out here when I was younger,’ Cyrus said, setting the cupcakes and the water down, ‘when my mum was working. You know, after school.’

  Evie stood in the centre of the room and looked around.

  ‘Did you bring girls here?’

  ‘Why are you so interested?’ Cyrus asked, flashing her an amused look.

  She glanced away hastily and bent down to read the spine of one of the open books. Tolstoy. She found herself smiling despite herself.

  ‘I don’t think I did bring any girls though.’

  Evie glanced up.

  Cyrus waved a tattered copy of Hustler magazine in her face. ‘Judging from my magazine collection, I think this was a male-only space.’ He dropped it back down onto the pile.

  ‘Well, I guess I’m honoured then,’ Evie said.

  Cyrus straightened the patchwork blanket draped over the back of one of the sofas and pointed at it. ‘You should sit down.’

  Evie considered the sofa. It looked way more inviting than a hospital bed. She had a sudden urge to lie down and let him wrap her up in the blanket. And, as if he had read her mind, that’s exactly what he did. As soon as she’d sat down, he lifted her legs and gently laid them out, pulling the blanket up to her waist and tucking it in.

  ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.

  He was crouched awkwardly beside her head, his hand still resting on her waist where he’d pulled the blanket up. She noted the golden stubble across his jaw, the fullness of his bottom lip and the streak of dried blood, probably hers, just under his chin.

  ‘Do you need anything?’ he asked.

  She paused, chewing the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want him to go. But she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea either. She liked him being near to her. That was all.

  ‘Can you stay?’ she asked, swallowing nervously. Her heart had started to beat more rapidly. She could feel the pulse of it in her neck, making her stitches stretch and sting. ‘I mean … I just …’

  He smiled. ‘I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere. Here, lift up.’

  She frowned, then realised what he was doing and lifted her head off the cushion so that he could slide onto the sofa. She lowered her head onto his lap and felt his arm come down, his hand resting lightly on her hip. There was a moment of pure awkwardness where she could feel him tense, could feel her own breath stuck in her throat and then he placed his other hand gently on her head and started stroking her hair. She closed her eyes and felt the sigh rush out of her.

  It felt good, lying here. It felt like peace, with his fingers pressing warmth back into her body. She felt herself sinking into the sofa even as the butterflies in her stomach started to test their wings.

  With her eyes half-closed, she could almost imagine it was Lucas who was holding her, stroking her hair. At the thought she felt something stir deep inside her, something she’d not felt in months – a hunger that sent the butterflies into a flurry. If she lay really still and tried not to breathe she could pretend it was Lucas’s hand moving slowly up her hip and now caressing her waist, softly, very softly.

  She made a noise, a low moan escaping from her lips before she could stop it. Cyrus paused, his hand instantly stilling. Evie’s eyes flew open and then, before she knew what was happening, she was on her knees facing Cyrus, his lips an inch from her own. He had stopped breathing, was staring at her, watching her carefully. She shut her eyes, then leant forward and kissed him, feeling the heat of his lips, the softness of them as he kissed her back, carefully at first as though he was scared she might break. And then the hunger took over.

  Her hands were weaving through his hair, she was pressing herself against him and his arms were wrapped around her, pulling her closer, forward and down so that now she was lying on top of him. His hand had slid up under the blanket, found its way expertly under the sweater and was running over the flat of her back, sending sparks all the way to her toes.

  His belt buckle was digging into her stomach and she could feel his desire like white heat burning through the layers of their clothing. He tasted of cupcakes and cinnamon and as the kiss deepened she could feel his own hunger matching her own.

  His touch, which had started tentative, was now demanding more. A lot more. Her fingers slid under his T-shirt, inviting it, feeling the washboard muscles of his stomach, the ridges of scars, and wanting to feel more.

  His hands were cupping her face now, his fingers smoother than she was used to. Not like Lucas’s fingers, which had been rough and tender at the same time. She pulled away sharply at the contrast. But he had started kissing her throat now, his fingers holding her gently, careful of the bandage on her neck. His other hand had moved under the sweater again, was tracing her stomach, her rib cage, moving upwards. She drew in a long, deep breath, trying to suppress the shudder that followed it.

  Lucas.

  Cyrus’s hand instantly stopped moving beneath the sweater. His lips stopped kissing her neck. Evie froze, her eyes flashed open. Already she could feel the blood that had been spiralling out of control through her body redirecting to her cheeks.

  Had she said that out loud? She’d been lost – imagining, pretending it was Lucas who was kissing her, who was sending shocks through her body, waking up parts of her she’d thought were permanently dormant. Oh, holy crap.

  Cyrus sat up slowly, his arms sliding out from under the blanket. Evie brushed the hair out of her face and sat back, her heart stuttering. She couldn’t look at him. She edged to the other end of the sofa, pulling the blanket around herself. This was beyond embarrassing.

  Cyrus didn’t say a word.

  After what felt like minutes of stultifying, electrically charged silence during which she could feel him trying to get control of himself, to cool down, he stood up.

  She waited for him to leave. He didn’t. Instead he dropped to a crouch right in front of her, looking up directly into her face.

  ‘Ne
xt time,’ he said, when he was sure he had her full attention, ‘it’ll be me you’re thinking of.’

  And with that he stood up and walked out.

  Chapter 40

  Lucas had followed them. He had tried to tell himself he just wanted to keep her safe, but really he had needed to know for certain whether Cyrus and Evie were a couple.

  But now he was wishing he hadn’t come. He stood on the roof of the bookstore clutching his hand to his side, grimacing at the image seared now on his mind of Cyrus’s hands running all over Evie’s body.

  He should have burst in when he saw Cyrus pick up the copy of Hustler and indicate Evie to lie down on the sofa. Or when he’d started stroking her hair. But then Evie had been the one to sit up and he’d seen the desire on her face – he knew that look – and she’d kissed Cyrus. It hadn’t been the other way around.

  Lucas had seen enough at that point. Had torn his eyes away and stepped back, towards the edge of the roof. They hadn’t even sensed him. That’s how completely wrapped up in each other they were. Evie hadn’t even felt him – though he was feeling her right now, could feel her heart racing, an echo in his own chest. He was even picking up a faint trace of her scent – mint and lavender and something sweeter like vanilla, though it was masked by the acrid fumes of blood and by Cyrus’s stronger scent.

  Lucas’s hands were curled into fists by his side. He had an overwhelming desire to burst in right now, drop through the skylight and smash Cyrus’s arrogant face into the wall. He took a deep breath. Hurting Cyrus, appealing as that was, wasn’t going to achieve anything. Evie needed protecting. This realm needed protecting. Even if protecting Evie was something Cyrus clearly felt he could do better if he first removed her clothes.

  Anger leapt like quicksilver through his veins. He needed to get off this roof before he did something.

  And there was only one place he could think of going.

  ‘Oh my god!’

  Flic staggered back several steps, clutching at the wall to stay upright, a hand covering her mouth.

  ‘Lucas,’ she whispered through splayed fingers. It came out as a question.

  He nodded, realising a little too late that he should have first changed his bloodstained clothing and tried to rinse more of the Original’s blood out of his hair.

  Flic reached out a shaking hand, and with tentative fingers poked his arm through his sweater. When she was convinced he was solid she let out a wracking sob.

  Lucas stepped inside the apartment and wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry. They stayed like that for a long while, Flic clutching onto him until she finally pulled back sharply. He saw she was no longer crying. Now she was glaring at him. And punching him in the arm.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she yelled. ‘I thought you were dead!’

  ‘Good to see you too,’ Lucas managed to say, rubbing at his arm.

  Her hands flew to her mouth again. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she said, clutching him by the other arm and steering him towards the living room. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re real. What happened? How are you alive? You vanished. I saw it happen.’ Her words were a rush, tumbling out of her.

  He dropped onto the sofa, glad all of a sudden to be sitting down – realising it was the first comfortable place he’d rested in a long time. Flic sat next to him, still clutching his hand. ‘What happened?’ she demanded. ‘You look like shit.’

  He laughed bitterly. ‘Yeah, well two months in the Shadowlands will do that to a person.’

  Flic shook her head at him, her eyes wide, not understanding.

  Lucas took a deep breath. ‘Issa found me.’

  Flic’s jaw went slack. ‘Issa?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. She had visions of me. She saw the way through hadn’t shut and came and found me.’

  ‘So it really is open then,’ Flic murmured, her gaze somewhere off in the middle distance. ‘I saw it, but I didn’t want to believe it was true.’ She stared at him in wonder again. ‘But oh god, I’m so glad it is now.’ She grinned at him, before punching him one more time on the arm.

  ‘Yeah,’ Lucas sighed. ‘It’s open. Issa saw it. Somehow, I don’t know how, she found me. I was practically dead by the time she got there. She fixed me up. Got me back here. The Shifter realm hadn’t been overrun when she came through it looking for me, so it was easier than it was on the way back.’

  ‘Overrun?’ Flic cut in. ‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?’

  Lucas shifted awkwardly on the sofa. ‘The Shifter realm – it’s destroyed,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s no one left.’

  Flic blinked at him, speechless. Lucas looked around. ‘Jamieson’s here, isn’t he? I can feel him.’

  Flic nodded.

  ‘I need to tell him. Does he have family there?’

  Flic nodded again. Her lips had turned white. ‘He’s sleeping,’ she said. ‘They dosed him up on painkillers at the hospital. He broke his arm,’ she trailed off.

  In the morning then, Lucas decided. They’d tell him then.

  ‘What about the Elders?’ Flic asked. ‘Why didn’t they stop it from happening?’

  ‘The Elders are gone, Flic,’ he told her. ‘The Originals are leading some kind of rebellion. They want this realm and every realm for themselves.’

  Flic buried her head in her hands. Lucas put his hand on her back but no words would come to comfort her. How could he reassure her that it was all going to be OK? He’d seen what had been done to the Shifter realm.

  Flic suddenly looked up at him, her dark hair falling in curtains either side of her face, her eyes blazing. ‘We’re going to stop them, you know. They’re not getting this realm. No way.’

  Lucas frowned at her. ‘Is that what you were doing there this afternoon? Trying to stop them?’

  She sat back. ‘You were there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It was you!’ Flic exhaled sharply, shaking her head at him in disbelief. ‘It was you. I knew I sensed something. I thought I saw you but then you were gone.’ She shook her head at him. ‘You killed those two Originals.’

  Lucas nodded. ‘What were you trying to do, Flic? What were you thinking, taking them on by yourself?’

  ‘It was a recce – we didn’t go in there to fight them.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘Does Evie know you’re here, that you’re alive?

  Lucas shook his head, feeling the ache in his side as though an animal were burrowing into him with claws and sharp rodent teeth.

  Flic was on her feet. ‘You need to go – you need to see her. She’ll …’

  He cut her off. ‘She’s busy.’

  Flic shook her head. ‘She’s in the hospital. An Original almost killed her. She’s going to be OK though,’ she added quickly.

  Lucas stared up at her. ‘I know. She’s more than OK.’

  Flic frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  He pressed his lips together, trying not to let the image of Evie lying on top of Cyrus cloud his mind. ‘Let’s just say she’s not in the hospital any more. Cyrus is taking care of her.’

  He could tell from Flic’s expression that she had finally understood.

  ‘Oh,’ was all she said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  He got up from the sofa and crossed to the window. He didn’t want to see Flic’s pity. He wanted to … he didn’t know what he wanted actually. A part of him wanted to punch the living crap out of Cyrus. Another part of him, the bruised-ego part of him, wanted to confront Evie. And yet another part of him, a large part of him, wanted to find Evie and not talk, but instead take her in his arms, scoop her up and show her exactly what Cyrus couldn’t give her. But none of those ideas seemed like the right thing to do. He needed to get a hold of himself, cool down, and figure out his next move.

  ‘Lucas …’ Flic’s hand was on his shoulder.

  He shrugged her off. ‘Don’t. I’m OK.’

  He stared at his reflection in the darkened glass. He looked like a dark-s
ouled ghost, the shadows slashing his face, his eyes a low glimmer, his jaw set. Flic, standing behind him, one uncertain hand hovering above his shoulder, looked like one of those girls from a horror movie – the one you yell silently at to run before the monster gets her.

  Eventually she spoke. ‘She thinks you’re dead, Lucas. Don’t be angry with her.’

  ‘I’m not angry with her,’ he answered. And he wasn’t. Hurt, betrayed, confused. But not angry. She had moved on. Should he be angry? It had been over two months. He didn’t know if that was a long time or a short time – or just enough time to get over someone you thought was dead. Would he have done the same? No. He knew he wouldn’t. Evie was a part of him. Even lost to him she was still a part of him. She still owned his soul. The betrayal bit deep.

  ‘She’s still in love with you,’ Flic said softly.

  He couldn’t help the bitter laugh that burst out. He wasn’t sure how to explain it to Flic without having to go there in his head and picture it all over again. You didn’t make out like that with a guy if you were in love with someone else. He spun around to face Flic. ‘Maybe once. Not any more.’

  Flic was standing now with her hands on her hips. ‘There’s this thing called a rebound …’, she cut herself off before she could finish, cleared her throat and tried again, ‘relationship.’

  ‘Evie’s not like that,’ he answered.

  Flic shrugged lightly, her eyebrows shooting up.

  He brushed past her. ‘You should have seen them, Flic.’

  ‘You saw them?’

  He sunk down onto the sofa and leant forward over his knees. ‘I needed to be sure,’ he swallowed, ‘that she felt the same way he obviously did.’

  ‘And?’

  He looked up at Flic and held her gaze. ‘She does.’

  End of conversation. Let’s move on.

  But Flic wouldn’t drop it. ‘Don’t act like you don’t care,’ she said, still standing in front of him. ‘You were ready to die for her.’