by Emily Shore
The Aquarium
Emily Shore
Contents
Also by Emily Shore
Content Disclosure
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
The Uncaged Series Playlist
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discussion Questions
Afterword
Recources
CTP Email List
Also by Emily Shore
The Uncaged Series
The Aviary
The Garden
The Temple
The Temple Twins
The Aquarium
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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The Aquarium
Copyright ©2019 Emily Shore
All rights reserved.
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Summary: In this fifth installment to The Uncaged Series, Serenity and Sky tackle life together as new parents to their toddler twins. Joined by Blackbird and her daughter, Sky and Serenity feel safe in the Sanctuary. But their peace is shattered when the twins are abducted by a woman named Haven, director of a new Museum called The Aquarium—a sea-scraper hundreds of miles deep in the ocean.
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ISBN: 978-1-63422-385-0 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-63422-386-7 (e-book)
Cover Design by: Marya Heidel
Typography by: Courtney Spencer
Editing by: Cynthia Shepp
For more information about our content disclosure,
please click on the picture above or visit us at
www.CleanTeenPublishing.com.
Content Note: the goal of The Uncaged Series is to raise awareness about the devastating effects of sex-trafficking. The Aviary's major theme is a struggle with identity.
These books brush on themes of abuse and manipulation, dissociation, pornography, Stockholm Syndrome, drug use in the industry, and various other subjects. Stories were inspired by real-world truths from survivors and rescue workers. A portion of The Aviary's proceeds will always go to benefit Women at Risk, International.
To my inner Serenity who knew she had to go deeper on this one than ever before. She survived. She surfaced. Now, it’s time to swim away.
1
The Sanctuary
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Swan feathers cram the inside of my mouth as my steps trace the endless circuit of the Yin/Yang sign on the ground. Around me are the iron bars of a cage, overwhelming me with the same feelings I had when I woke up in one years ago. It can’t compare to what I feel when I see my children playing outside the cage. Careless two-year-olds toddling around, getting farther and farther away. The swan feathers continue to grow until they become great wings closing over me until…
I wake up.
I don’t scream anymore, but my breaths are heavier. The dream is never the same, but there are similarities. Sometimes, Kerrie and Verity are in the cage instead. Other times, it’s a Skeleton Flower wrapping around my body like a boa constrictor ready to suffocate me.
Sky doesn’t normally wake up. Right now, he’s on his stomach. Pressing my lips together, I force myself not to wince at the sight of the old scars on his back. He’s had multiple opportunities to heal them—to use a skin transfuser so the healthy patches of skin will grow over the ruined flesh—but he turns it down every time. We are a contrast. Flawless frost meets rugged earth. Because his body continues to age while mine remains the same.
I’m about to straddle his back so I can start kissing him when one of the twins lets out a squeal from the room next door. Groaning, I launch myself out of bed. If I don’t hurry and remove the squealing twin, he’ll wake up his sister. Sensitive little spitfire that he is.
Kerrie takes after me.
Just before I reach for the doorknob, Sky’s strong hand covers mine. I glance at his dark waves like maple syrup drippings coating his chest.
“Go back to bed,” he directs me, his voice drowsy and husky. I stare for a moment. It takes all I have not to curve my fingertips against his chest.
Sky dips his head to the side, a knowing smirk creasing one of his eyes. “Ser.” His tone is scolding now. “Off to bed with you.”
I feel worse when I shake my head and scamper away because if I left right away, maybe Verity wouldn’t have woken up. Now, Sky will have both twins at four AM.
As I contemplate how much Sky and I could use a night off, I remember Neil is coming to visit today.
* * *
He’s never late.
Punctuality is one thing Neil prides himself on, so I assume something is wrong. As the waves coddle the shore, foam nipping at my toes, I open my holo-phone. Even if the Sanctuary itself is the epitome of cutting-edge technology, we use outdated models of everything from phones to computers. We even have a silent internet. Off the grid as it were. Only meant for those in the Sanctuary or the rare few with Sanctuary access.
Like Neil.
But there are no new messages. And no boat in sight.
“You’ve been out here for an hour,” Sky says from behind me.
Turning around, I can’t help but admire the way the ends of his untucked shirt flutter like pale blue bird wings in the sea breeze. Since we left the Temple, his hair has grown out, so I breathe in the scent of it first, sighing. Hints of salt. Sky swims every morning.
“He’s late,” I say when Sky squeezes my waist, fingers nudging my belly from under my blouse.
He’s built up a healthy tan as well as some stubble, which circles just his chin, part of his jaw, and his upper lip. When he kisses me, the stubble grazes my cheek, but I don’t mind it.
“Maybe he got caught up with Lindy,” Sky offers, always the rational one, counterbalancing my emotional butterflies.
Opening his hands, I draw chaotic patterns across the calluses, the deepened lines, the half-moon scar he got when we escaped from the Temple…so many changes. Not one for me.
I am a nineteen-year-old woman in a sixteen-year-old girl’s body. Forbidden to change unless it means returning to what my body was when Luc put this Immortal implant in me. Permitted only to regenerate. Short of a bullet to a major organ, my lifespan is double what Sky’s is.
“It’s our one-year anniversary tomorrow,” Sky points out, unconcerned over Neil’s absence.
“Mmhmm.” I chew on my thumbnail, holding my breath when his fingers migrate north from my navel. If this were a normal morning, I’d still be wearing one of his shirts, which he could unbutton easily. I wouldn’t have a bra on, and we could take a swim together at low tide and bring home shells for t
he twins to play with. Attached to our wrists as they are, their heart monitors warn us if they wake up. Right now, Sky must be content playing with the lace of my bra, thumb nudging the swell of my breast.
“And the Sanctuary has an underwater room on the other side of the island.”
“Right, but it’s already occupied. By the Sanctuary founder,” I remind him, gasping, but whether it’s from Sky kissing the nape of my neck or the ocean careening against my knees, I can’t tell.
“And she’s agreed to loan it to us for the weekend.”
“What?” I pause and spin around, sliding my arms around my husband’s neck. “Are you serious?”
Sky nods, rubbing my lower lip with his thumb. “Blackbird’s coming to watch the twins.”
That will be perfect. The twins love playing with their adopted cousin. Ebony is almost three, but she plays like a five-year-old and dotes on the twins, whether it’s covering them with blankets or giving them their bottles. To this day, I still pick on Blackbird for her wrong guess about her baby’s sex.
“What about Neil?” I press my hips against Sky’s legs. “I can’t get a hold of him.”
“He left me a message.” Sky winks, spreading his hands along the back of my waist. “Lindy has a big Paris shoot this weekend. He decided to go with her.”
Makes sense. When the Temple shut down, Lindy was out of a job, but thanks to Neil’s graphicker connections with studios and modeling companies all over the world, it wasn’t too difficult to launch Lindy. They will always be the couple who will travel around the world and never have kids. But they send the twins the best presents. I think about the mini helicopter they sent about a month ago. Sky loved piloting it and the twins enjoyed watching him shoot golden lasers, clapping the harmless, sparkler projectiles in their hands.
A whole weekend alone for just us. No midnight feedings for the twins. No cooking or cleaning. No screaming/crying/fighting/diaper changing/potty training interruptions for so much as a kiss. As much as I’ve loved these past couple of years, the thought of having Sky all to myself for a whole weekend and not having to share him…
“When do we leave?” I ask.
It hurts every time.
Even with all their technology, the one thing the Sanctuary cannot do is remove the implant. It requires a special artificial intelligence surgical program. Or the one with the original programming, which is impossible. So, for now, I’m stuck with the implant repairing my inner regions every time, reducing them to a virginal state. At least it didn’t happen like that on our honeymoon since it still takes twenty-four hours to finalize. It’s why the oncoming weekend is so meaningful.
The sunset dyes the horizon the color of Sky’s eyes, an inviting amber, when we say farewell to the surface and descend the staircase into the tube hallway that leads into the underwater room. It reminds me of a hotel. A sterile scent. Just cleaned. It’s smaller than I anticipated, but just perfect for Sky and me. Planting one palm against a nearby window, I reward myself with the cool glass and the sight of nothing but blue all around me. The Sanctuary hasn’t changed location recently, so we are still enjoying clearer waters. A school of fish, their scales mimicking stained glass, dart past the glass wall in front of me. I can almost hear the swish of their fins and the hush of their bubbles.
Sky kisses the nape of my neck, yanking me back to reality. Off to our left in the corner is a mini refrigerator with a bed taking up most of the space. Folded back one foot, the covers invite us into its embrace, and we don’t waste any time.
I hate it when he’s careful, and he always feels the need to be careful. Never lets down his guard. Every time, he works to be gentle whenever we try to pick up where we left off.
All because of this damned implant.
His eyes feast on me as if I am new each time, though it’s impossible. When he slides into me, I try my best not to wince. Even after a year, it’s still difficult to pretend it doesn’t hurt. At least every sensation also seems new. We are comfortable, practiced, his touch familiar, but my body doesn’t remember. So, his burial inside me unearths me at the same time, stirs my inner depths, and awakens. Blissful, my butterflies sigh upon Sky’s lips, journeying lower, rubbing across my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach, my hips, my pelvis, and finally…lower still.
Gripping the sheets, I throw my head back and cry my husband’s name over and over again until lightning strikes and ignites a path into my spine until it meets the water, splashing through the rest of my body. Calming, quieting, I come down to join Sky. Nestle into his arms.
His lips print the curve of my shoulder. “You didn’t want to waste any time.” He chuckles through his closed mouth as he kisses me again. “Pace yourself, Ser. We have the whole weekend.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I challenge, shifting my weight to straddle him.
That’s when we both notice the scarlet stain on the sheets. I sigh, muttering an internal curse. Sky hates it when I bleed. He cringes.
“Please don’t do that,” I say, coiling my arms around his neck, drawing him up and closer to me. “You know you could never hurt me.”
Sifting his fingers into my curls, Sky covers my mouth with his. We begin again because practice always makes…
* * *
When we come up for air, we receive an urgent message alert from Neil. Nothing wrong with the twins. Even with the low-signal capacities in the underwater room, the twins’ heart monitors were designed with frequency in mind. We can monitor them from anywhere.
Pressing on the bracelet I never remove, which has been programmed to read my thumbprint alone, I wait for the flirty image of my half-brother to appear, but he’s chosen audio. Hmm…that’s very un-Neil.
“Hey, doll,” Neil’s familiar voice coos through the speaker. “You haven’t called us in weeks, naughty girl.” There’s a merry smirk in his admonishing voice. “And we’re busier than you!”
Did he just say he was “busier”? I have two-year-old twins to raise. Maybe I’ll leave them alone with Neil for a day so he can see how “not busy” I am.
“So, Lindy’s extending her trip and keeps saying I’m a distraction. Something about never being able to leave the bed. I know you get it, doll,” he hints, and I imagine his eyebrows bobbing up and down. “Anyway, looks like I’ll be able to pop by for a visit after all. I’ll be there Sunday night. Made arrangements with your founder. See you soon. Ciao!”
Interesting he felt the need to contact Founder Tuck. One would think the Sanctuary founder would have a more impressive name, but there’s nothing more to Faye Tuck. Other than a hundred-billion-dollar net worth of course. Old wealth stemming from numerous investments: successful chocolate houses, the Russian ballet, the Met, even some museums. And the fact her grandfather patented the original flying car helped, though they’re still rare to see as they’re so expensive and require a hoard of permits. Some on the movable island refer to her as director but never in her presence. I recall the Sanctuary history we learned when we first came here a year ago. How it was originally the enterprise of a billionaire recluse, who wanted something private for her and her husband. But when her husband had been shot and killed, rendering her a widow, she found a new calling.
There are at least a dozen or so Sanctuary coordinators under her, some Neil knows better. Obviously, he would have contacted Sky, but we were “occupied”.
By the time we reach our cottage, which is situated on the top of a high slope overlooking the ocean, Neil has already arrived. The twins should go to bed soon, but it looks like they, along with Ebony, are enjoying their new visitor. Sky chuckles through his closed mouth as Verity pounces on Neil, willing him to fall back with her small, pudgy hands. Feigning a fainting “oh,” he obliges her right before Kerrie grabs Neil’s hair and tugs.
“Ow,” Neil exclaims, jerking his head up and freeing his hair from his nephew. “No pulling my hair,” he orders Kerrie, who just giggles and reaches up again. On his knees, Neil scrunches his mouth, trying
to look firm and imposing, but it doesn’t help that much. “Seriously, kid. This hair costs as much as your helicopter did.”
I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. Apart from that bruise on his neck—did my twins actually do that?—Neil looks good. Since the last time I saw him, he must have had implants or something because I doubt he could have grown those neck-long curls over the past two months.
Neil gets up, much to the disappointment of Verity, who was pushing on his back and hoping he’d keep playing with her. But as soon as the twins see us approach, they forgot all thoughts of Neil.
Well…as soon as they see Sky.
“Dadda!”
“Daddy!”
Kerrie hasn’t quite mastered Daddy like his older sister has. I love their toddling runs as they make a beeline for Sky. I am not forsaken, however. Squealing what she can pronounce of my name, Ebony staggers toward me, and I scoop my adopted niece into my arms just as Sky does with the twins. Verity presses the side of her face into Sky’s shoulder while Kerrie blows a raspberry onto his neck. His new favorite game. His way of impressing Daddy.
Nose kissing hers, I ask Ebony, “You been having fun with your cousins?”
