“Excuse me.” Corbin or whatever his name is pulls me from my thoughts. He skips down the hall, arms gleefully swinging at his sides. “Marc the Creation, you are not at attention. You are slacking in your duties as a Creation, and this behavior is unacceptable,” he says, aggressively sweeping his arm in front of himself. His brows draw inward, but his smile stays put.
Looking at the cream-colored carpet, I shake my head. If I were to kick this guy’s ass here in this hallway, they’d put Sean and me on the chopping block. “I am doing my job. I’m not one of these punk Creations you all have strolling the streets and cleaning windows here in Highrum. Get off my back.”
“I am very familiar with who you are, Marcain Creation two-eight-four-seven-nine, brother of Seanabe. The second strongest young male Creation in second generation Creations. There is a total of six of you high-performing Creations. Two who were once in Chicago, you and Sean, Kylie and Luke in Desert Hills. Now it’s the three of you registered there. And Aaron and Costello in New York. It is very interesting how Creations can all be made the same, and yet, one set can exceed another.” He lifts his wide-eyed gaze to the ceiling. “Maybe there is more human in Creations than we desired.”
“Look, Christian, I’m not in the mood to talk. Excuse me, and finish your stroll.” My ass has to stay glued to this spot, though I’d prefer to slam Crockett into the floor, choke him until he passes out, and jet down the hall to avoid being prosecuted for attacking a future Guidance member.
He chortles. “Marcain the Creation, I have arrived at my destination. The stroll is completed.” He laughs harder, slapping his knee. “Creations’ cluelessness is quite amusing. You all have a sense of humor, I see. I didn’t know you all could be so much fun.” He sighs loudly, laughter settling. “My name’s not Christian, it’s Carden.” Wiping his eye, he continues, “I’ve come to talk to Kylie the Creation. I’m interested in convincing her to move here with us. Release her of her role as Creation to be Guidance leader at my side.”
I scoff. “She can’t do that.”
His brows furrow, “I beg your pardon, Marcain the Creation. Once I am leader, I am changing the rules.” He nods once. “Because my mother likes Kylie, she is our first test subject. She,” his voice rises an octave as he sings, “gets a free pass.” He takes a step forward to knock on the door.
“Take a walk, guy,” I tell him. He better not make me stand up.
“I’ve done that.” He stares down the hall, smiling at his accomplishment. “It was utterly refreshing. Now, I will talk to Kylie the Creation.” He thinks for two seconds and adds, “She is a nice girl. If she stays, she could be my consort. I will make her happy, and she will look beautiful on my arm.”
His consort…Wife? I stand and look him head on. “Your wife? You want to force Kylie to be your wife and wear her like a purse?”
He folds his hand in front of his hips. “Well, if you choose that word,” he spits, “wife,” as though it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. “I do not choose to use such a word. It’s degrading.”
My neck practically breaks from how hard it jerks at his statement. I press my lips into a thin line to keep my words restrained and grit my teeth to manage my frustration.
“Kylie and I will be companions, brightly displayed for the America to see. A Creation and a Guidance leader together will reflect equality, proof our country is growing in the right direction. It will boost the morale of lacking Creations, and the humans who have been swaying and causing trouble will see her here and look toward the Guidance because they’ll believe if we can put a Creation in a place of power, we must love every citizen of the America. Kylie will be able to leave her life as a Creation and start a new one. I believe since her twin is dead now,” he says lightheartedly, accommodating the statement with an indifferent shrug, “this would be an ideal change for her. She’s a special one we’re interested in unpacking.”
“His name was Luke. And you’ll give him your respect by speaking his name. He wasn’t just ‘Kylie’s twin who’s dead now’. He was a damn good solider and my friend.” I press my fist to my palm and crack my knuckles. “And Kylie’s not some political trophy you can pick up and put down as you please. You want her to leave everything to come live here with you for your gain. Not hers.”
“She will love it here, Marcain the Creation.” He reaches again to knock.
I step in his way, refusing to allow him to lay a knuckle on this door. I doubt Kylie will answer, but I don’t want her to talk to him, not even to tell him fuck off. This goofball will not try to smile his way into convincing her to be a pawn on his chessboard. She’d probably say yes just to get back at me, and I don’t want her to move here for any reason. I want to keep Ky bottled up, for myself only. I’d keep her in my pocket, hiding her from everyone, and in secret, I’d take her out and have her to myself. The rest of the world is lucky they even get to lay their eyes on her. “You can talk to her later, Christoph. She’s on lockdown right now, an order by General Jord. No one goes in, and no one comes out.”
“Oh,” he chirps, hand flying over his mouth. “She must have done something bad. What happened?”
I groan, pushing my hand through my hair. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.”
“I understand, Marcain the Creation.” He props his hands on his hips and lifts on to his tiptoes as he looks over my shoulder as if the door opened. “When she is free, have her look me up please. I have a lot I must discuss with her prior to your departure.” He smiles and nods, turning away. “And by the way. My name is Carden,” he informs me and trots down the hall.
He’s entering the elevator as the housekeeper I sent on a run exits. One foot in front of the other, she walks steadily down the hall, carefully juggling my items.
With a cheerful smile that brightens her brown eyes, she says, “Here you go.”
Taking the glass and bags, I whisper, “Thank you,” before she grabs her buggy and continues down the hall. The vanilla shake is filled to the rim with whipped cream and two cherries. I set the bags to the floor and knock on the door. “Kylie, if you don’t open the door, this shake is going to turn into vanilla milk with floating cherries.”
A second passes, and she cracks open the door. She sticks out her hand.
“You are displaying your immaturity greatly today, Ky.”
“Stop talking and put the shake in my hand.” Her fingers spread and her hand stretches.
I kiss the tip of her middle finger, then her index finger, and let another kiss rest against her ring finger before placing the chilled glass to her palm.
I wait for the door to open.
I’m using Ky’s irresistible attraction towards me to gain her forgiveness. I don’t have moves or a plan. The majority of the time, I have no idea what I’m doing with her. It all just works. Everything just happens, and it feels good. It puts a smile on my face and settles her nightmares. It all makes sense while not making sense. And I’m finally okay with that, and I don’t want to lose it.
I prop my forearm against the wall to lean in and whisper, “I’m here for you, Kylie.”
The door pulls open. She looks at me, eyes red and puffy. Her nose is raw and her bottom lip trembles.
I sigh, hating that I’m unable to hug away her misery. “Here.” I grab the bag from the floor and hand it to her. “Shower and change. Let me in whenever you’re ready.”
She turns and walks away, leaving the door open.
Damn. It worked! I step in and nudge the door closed with my elbow.
“I don’t want to look at you.”
“Then don’t,” I say to her back.
She grumbles, crossing her arms. She faces a window where I’m able to see her face through the reflection. “You have other responsibilities. You mentioned before you have a purpose here, and that’s not me. Remember that and stop.”
Nodding, I hold my spot near the door, resisting the urge to cross the room to her. “I did. I also hated you for a while. But that�
�s all changed. The reason I was created is very important to me. My purpose is the most important part of who I am, and it’s why I fight so hard to stay alive every day. And that purpose…is you.”
Her shoulders slacken. She turns around, and moves in my direction. For a minute, I get my hopes up, but she grabs the bag from my hand and heads left into the bathroom and shuts the door.
Chapter Ten
*Marc*
“You can grab a shower, Marc.” The first words Kylie has said in over an hour. “I assume that’s what you want to do, considering the male clothes in the bag.” She’s consumed the shake and ate both cherries without offering me a sip. She exits the bathroom in a towel, with another wrapped around her hair. I look away from her. “I saved you some hot water.”
I peel myself from the leather chair where I’m sitting in the corner of the Inn’s room next to a brown desk. There’s a clear view of rooftops of other nearby buildings from the window that stretches the length of the wall. I pass Kylie, refraining from yanking her to me to bring her body close to mine. She feels it. I can tell from her inhale and the way she leans a little toward me on my passing. She exhales loudly after I’ve closed the door to the bathroom. I can’t separate it from disappointment or relief though.
I shower and dress quickly, opening the door as I pull on my shirt to release the steam. Kylie is standing in the doorway. She speaks as she looks at me through narrowed eyes, but I’m distracted by the water dripping off my hair and wetting my shirt. I hate the feeling. I thought I dried it.
Kylie taps my shoulder. “Are you leaving?”
“You want me to?” I ask, searching the floor for the towel I used.
“I want you to die.”
“Look, Ky,” I grab a new towel from the shelf. “I’ll let you get one hit in.” Squeezing the water from my hair, I look her over, liking the blue jeans and purple shirt I picked for her and how perfectly they hug her curves. She glowers at me and dammit if she isn’t the most gorgeous species I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I hold in my compliment. “One hit.” I toss the towel in the tub, where I realize I left the other. “Then you’ll let me hug you, and I’ll keep my distance the rest of the time I’m with you.”
She shakes her head. “One hit isn’t enough.”
“Fine. Let me hug you. Then kill me.”
Her brows furrow, and she stands speechless.
I lean forward, grab her by her hips, and tug her to me. “Wrap your arms around me, Kylie Alexander.” I push my arms around her waist. Slowly, her arms curl around my back, and she exhales.
I release her and grab my gun from the counter. “Now,” I hand her the gun, “kill me. I’ll die for you if it’ll make you feel better.”
We stand in the doorway of the bathroom. Kylie takes the gun from me. She checks if the clip is loaded, and it is. Flicking her gaze to me and then away, she puts a bullet in the chamber. “Don’t speak,” she instructs.
“I won’t.”
“Shut up!”
“Shutting up.” I draw my lips in between my teeth.
“Now!”
My words drawl as I say, “You are dragging out my death, and I’d hope you’d have a little more respect for me.”
“You killed my brother. If I could torture you, I would.”
Shaking my head, I repeat for the millionth time. “I didn’t kill Luke. I didn’t even know that was going to happen. But if giving you my life will help you come to terms with losing him and possibly provide you with an ounce of relief, I’ll do that for you. Shoot me.”
“Your life won’t replace his.”
I know that but she’s the one hell-bent on killing everyone! I shrug. “I am ready when you are.”
She aims the barrel between my eyes. I could be wrong about her shooting me. She’s already done so once. Crazy girl shot me in my damn neck. Her finger twitches as it moves to the trigger.
Someone bangs on the door. “Marc,” calls Sean.
A smile twitches Kylie’s cheek. Her brows rise as though an idea occurs to her.
“Don’t do it,” I warn in a low voice.
In a swift movement, she backs into the hall, pulls the room’s door open and fires off two shots.
I race from the bathroom, shoving Kylie from the path to make it to my brother.
Chapter Eleven
“This is getting old, Kylie! There are innocent people milling around this building! What if you hit one of them?” Marc shouts, trying to snatch the gun from me. I hold it out of his reach. “You’ve lost your mind!”
Sean wipes the speck of blood from his left ear, where the bullet grazed it. “She never misses,” he says under his breath. He looks up from the ground, jaw working as his nostrils flare. “I’m going to finally say this,” he says, crossing his arms. “Don’t put me in the middle of your shit. Marc, she’s over it, let her think what she wants. Stop kissing her ass and move the hell on! I’m telling you now.” He meets my eyes. “The next time you raise a gun at me, Kylie, you won’t have time to miss. I’ve not retaliated because I haven’t wanted to hurt my brother, but I won’t let you destroy him.”
A laugh cuts from my throat. “You’re threatening me, Sean?”
He shakes his head. “Warning you.”
I tip my chin and drop my hands on my hips. “We can go right now.” Maybe I can’t kill either of them, but I can definitely fight to the death. Boxing was Luke’s thing, and I’ll be more than happy to take it on.
There are other things worse than death anyway.
Mark steps between us. “That won’t be necessary.”
I throw my hand up. “Send someone else to look after me. This way, you won’t need to worry about it. Out of sight, out of mind.” I push the door closed, forcing them to shuffle out of the room as it does.
“Kylie,” Marc calls.
“Just stop already, Marc,” Sean insists. “Please stop.”
I pull my dry hair into a ponytail as I sit cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, shoulders even. My breaths are slow and deep as I try to overcome my anger. I remember Luke’s room at our aunt’s house, his messy handwriting covering his walls with quotes. One helps me. I recall this one was carved into the wall next to his bedroom door. “Anger buried is a man risen.”
Anger buried is a woman risen. It won’t be easy, but I’ll find myself in this world as a single Creation, soldier or citizen. I won’t let his death kill me too. I’ll miss him, and I want him here. And in a way, he still is. His voice is still loud in my ears, barking his instructions and encouragements.
I suck in a deep breath, and when I release it, relief washes over me, and again, I feel like I can conquer the world.
Someone knocks. “Kylie? It’s General Jord,” he says in an orderly tone.
I rise from my spot before the window. The sun is setting beneath the buildings, sinking below the horizon. The sky is a peculiar mixture of orange, blue, and purple, and I find it relaxing to take this moment to acknowledge the beauties of this planet. Opening the door, I say, “Sir?” and step aside so he may come in.
Jord passes me to the desk stuffed near the corner, next to a leather chair. “What happened to Luke has taken us all aback. We are all saddened by the turn of events, and while none of us can fathom what you’re going through, we’re all here for you.” Jord looks down and wipes his hand over his shiny bald head. “Luke was a hell of a fighter.”
I sniff, and flick my gaze up to the ceiling to ease the rising pool of tears.
“That being said, his passing does not give you the right to go on a killing spree. No matter who you kill, it will not bring him back. Murdering your friends and associates in cold blood is not the way to go about your vengeance. They didn’t do it. Take your anger out on the ones who did. As a Creation, you know this. Stick to the plan, Kylie.” He leans against the desk, crosses his arms, and holds my eye contact. “There are other things out there that need your attention. Zombies are flooding the streets of the America like an angry wave. Cities
are crumbling. Creations and humans are turning into those things, and we’re outnumbered.” His forehead wrinkles as his brows rise and eyes widen. “Fr-frankly,” he stammers, throwing his hand out as shock racks his smooth voice, “it’s gotten so far out of hand, it’s mind-boggling Highrum is untouched.”
I look over my shoulder, out the window, at the peaceful city.
“Our entire world has been affected by the Zombies, and The Vojin are still planning their attack on the America. We may be looking at the last of our kind.” He presses his fingers to his eyes then drags his hand down his face. “Get your priorities together, Kylie. We need you focused. We need you alert. And most importantly, we need you not to rid us of the best soldiers we have. We’ve lost,” he pauses, “a lot back home from the Zombies. Those who did survive are being brought here, and their numbers are small. We cannot afford to lose any more.” Looking me head on, he demands, “Give me your word this is over. It ends now.”
I imagine this is how a father would reprimand his daughter, a stern talking to with an edge of warning to his voice and furrowed brows to emphasize how upset he is in her actions. He would give his instructions, and I would be obligated to obey. After coming to an agreement, we would smile and hug once.
I exhale the thought away. My father’s been gone for a while as is the closest thing I had to one. “You have my word, sir. It ends now.” I nod once.
Jord straightens, and I follow. “Very well,” he says. “You are no longer on lockdown.” He turns and walks toward the door.
“Sir?” I call.
Jord pivots, drawing his arms behind his back as he spins on his heels. His sober gaze rests on me.
“How did you all discover Luke and I were implants?” Luke and I agreed to not admit to this, but if we played our cards so well, how’d they find out?
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 67
