Immersive

by Becky Moynihan

  Before I could make sense of the emotions flitting across his face, he leaned into my personal space. His breath was a wisp of air on my ear as he whispered so quietly I almost missed it, “Make it real. You know what’s at stake.”

  My heart gave a hard thump when, instead of retreating, he pressed his mouth to my jaw. Panic rose, wrapping around my throat as his intentions penetrated my brain. Crap. Oh crap. No, I couldn’t do this. I loved Bren. Bren. I couldn’t—

  But it was too late.

  I felt warmth a second before his lips slanted across mine. Every muscle in my body locked up. I jerked back, breaking the kiss. Hot anger throbbed in my skull. My eyes shot hellfire as I prepared to yell and curse at him for kissing me. But when he dug his fingers into my damp hair, tearing free a few strands, I saw the look of pure desperation he was giving me.

  “Please,” he breathed. I felt his fingers tremble, felt the arm supporting me quake as he asked for my permission. Why? Why was he doing this to me? He must know about my feelings for Bren, so why make me give myself to him? I didn’t receive an answer. He simply said “please” one more time, using my body as a shield so the men couldn’t read his lips.

  Whatever his reasons, I knew he was concocting a plan, one that would hopefully keep me out of the correctional center and reunite me with Bren. I had to see him again. Had to see with my own eyes that Bren was still living and breathing. If kissing Ryker was the cost . . .

  But by agreeing to kiss him, I could be throwing away my relationship with Bren. This could destroy our love. The decision was a hot brand searing into my flesh. I could lose him forever, but . . . but I had to hope that he would understand. Had to hope that we could heal from this and become stronger. Because a kiss from Ryker meant nothing to me. I would do this for Bren and face the consequences, knowing my heart belonged to him.

  So I gave Ryker a look laced with warning. But a look giving him permission all the same.

  He didn’t hesitate. His mouth recaptured mine in the next breath. He moved with purpose. Pushing against my lips. Forcing them open. Demanding I yield to him. I did. Then stifled a gasp when his tongue thrust through, sweeping across mine. Testing. Tasting. It was foreign. Smoky yet sweet. Not unpleasant when I knew it should be. He continued to slide his tongue along mine, exploring every inch he could reach, as if claiming it—me—as his.

  Claim.

  It’s a predator thing, Bren once told me. Also a Sensor thing if not kept in check.

  A frantic fluttering of wings exploded in my stomach. A feeling I most definitely didn’t want. A feeling of complete and utter betrayal. I didn’t want to be claimed—not by Ryker, no matter what my traitorous body felt.

  My hands found his face. Moved to our joined mouths. I pressed my thumbs against his bottom lip, asking him to stop. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t do this anymore. My heart was being mauled and shredded. This was affecting me, despite my best efforts to act like it didn’t. After a moment, he withdrew, but only enough to break the connection. His breaths were ragged, warm across my mouth and cheeks. The hand on my back slid up my spine, the action gentle yet almost . . . possessive.

  An ache built in my chest. A twisted ball of confusion and misery.

  Because I couldn’t tell.

  I couldn’t tell if this was an act . . . or real.

  “Bring out Skervlong!”

  The bellow of Ryker’s father snapped me out of the strange trance the kiss had plunged me into. I became all too aware of the milling crowd, the penetrating looks and low rumble of words exchanged between the men as one of them took off to find Skervvy. An awkwardness I’d never felt before draped over us like a damp blanket. Or maybe the feeling stemmed from standing next to Ryker after what had just happened. There were so many words that needed to be said, but couldn’t. So many emotions that needed sorting, but wouldn’t.

  I refused to dwell on them, wanting to pretend it didn’t happen. But Ryker made that impossible—he wasn’t looking at me, but I could sense his attention on me all the same. He had a lot of explaining to do after this.

  The tension grew unbearable as the minutes ticked by, as the rain intensified and thunder boomed. But no one moved. Eventually, there came a scraping of boots against rock and the men parted to let Skervvy through. He strutted into the middle of the circle, then placed a fist over his heart and sketched a quick bow to Ryker’s father.

  “Boss,” he said. “How may I be of assistance?”

  Boss. So I’d been right. Ryker truly was the son of the Recruiter Clan’s boss. But he’d warned me away from the man, said he was worse than Renold. Yet he’d brought me to this meeting like a lamb to the slaughter. A cold flush shivered through me. The urge to bolt was a wild thing in my chest.

  Before I could so much as twitch, a hand wrapped around mine. Startled, I jerked away, but the hand held fast. I looked up at Ryker, my eyes accusatory and brimming with anger. He shook his head, then deliberately slid his fingers through mine, clasping our hands together.

  “Tom Skervlong,” the boss said, breaking our staredown. “Is it true that you took my son’s intended mate and tried to claim her as your own?”

  Saliva built in my mouth, acidic and nauseating. Something twisted and wrong was happening here, words and rules that didn’t make sense to me. Intended mate? My mind was coming up with all sorts of weird conclusions, at the forefront a crazy notion that these men saw themselves as animals.

  Ryker had admitted that his moon and claw tattoo meant “nocturnal predator.” Were the clansmen a pack of wolves or something?

  While Skervvy defended himself—which he was doing a poor job of—Ryker’s father tugged at the gold loop in his ear, a bored expression on his face. He glanced at me and, catching my stare, winked. It was such a Bren thing to do that my heart skipped a beat.

  This couldn’t be Bren’s father. For one, they looked nothing alike, not a single trait. There was a good chance this man had raised him, though. They shared the same easy-going exterior while concealing untold secrets within.

  His attention snapped to a still rambling Skervvy. “Enough,” he said.

  Skervvy immediately shut up. The boss took his time ambling toward the tall, lanky man who had done nothing but bring me pain. He circled him once, then twice. To his credit, Skervvy didn’t cower. His hands balled into fists, though. Thunder shook the ground, as if seeking to alleviate the tension.

  The boss circled one more time before facing the man who couldn’t quite hide his nervousness. He cocked his head, the edges of a smile shifting his beard. “So what you’re saying, Tom, is that you decided to challenge an alpha for his female without following the proper protocols. You know what that means, of course.”

  Skervvy’s eyes widened comically. “N-no, boss. It wasn’t like that. I was just following your orders. She was roaming the area, so I—”

  “Are you questioning me, Skervlong?” the boss interrupted. “Are you challenging your head alpha’s word?”

  Skervvy shook his head vehemently, swallowing hard. He opened his mouth, whether to deny or apologize, I would never know. With lightning quick reflexes belying his size, Ryker’s father rammed a fist into Skervvy’s gut. The thin man bent over, groaning loudly. I gasped as the boss lunged forward and locked Skervvy in a chokehold.

  “Doesn’t matter either way, Tom. First you shoot my returned son in the back, then you spend two solid weeks sitting on your rear and gloating about a catch that was never yours to steal. May this serve as a reminder to you all,” Ryker’s father boomed. “No one breaks the code without invoking challenge from me.”

  Skervvy bucked and writhed in the boss’s ironclad hold like a rabbit caught in a snare. Strangled sounds left him. He was pleading. Begging. Like he’d wanted me to do. But his words fell on unsympathetic ears, and he was no match for the heavily muscled older man. My mouth dried as I watched the man who had chased and abused me, who had shot Bear and Bren, turn red in the face. His eyes bugged out, his expression open te
rror as oxygen was squeezed from his lungs.

  I waited for the inevitable moment when he would go limp and collapse to the sodden ground, but I wasn’t expecting a crack! as the boss broke his neck. My blood ran cold. I was no stranger to death, but watching the man I had wanted to kill die by another man’s hands was gut-wrenching.

  At the undeniable truth behind the vicious thought, a violent shiver shook me.

  Catanna was right. I was a murderer, my heart inked black by the color of revenge. I had wanted to end Skervvy with my own two hands. Now he was dead and I was numb—but not from shock. No, I was devastated that I’d lost the chance to enact my own version of justice.

  I must have made a sound—maybe a whimper of disappointment—because Ryker turned me toward him. His look was questioning, asking if he’d need to catch me before I fell. I knew my eyes were wide and easily mistaken for fright, but my jaw was hard. He noticed. His brows slowly ticked upward. Then he nodded as if he understood. Of course he did. I had seen him kill more than once.

  “Come with me,” he said quietly. I didn’t resist as his hand tugged on mine, as he led me around the group hovering over their dead clansman. But my eyes tracked the crumpled form on the ground. They remained glued to Skervvy’s wide, sightless gaze until the crowd swallowed him whole.

  Remembering words he’d once said, I couldn’t help muttering, “Never underestimate desperation and the wily ways of women.”

  He should have taken his own advice.

  No one stopped us from leaving, and as soon as we were alone, I jerked my hand free of Ryker’s. For a split second, I thought about running.

  His shoulders stiffened as if he’d read my mind, but he kept moving. “Don’t try it. You might not see them, but we’re still being watched. Closely.”

  My fingers flew to my neck, feeling for the bear tooth necklace Bren had given me. Its familiar presence brought me a small measure of comfort. Not like the comfort its rightful owner gave, but enough to slow my erratic heartbeats.

  Even if I wasn’t afraid of being tracked down by a pack of wolfmen, I couldn’t run, not when my mum was here. And I wouldn’t leave Bren behind. Soon, I would see him. And then I could release the flood of emotions that threatened to gush down my face at any second.

  As if to taunt my resolve, the sky chose that moment to split open. The gentle rainfall became a downpour. Streaks of lightning lit up the street, revealing roots and leafy vines overtaking the urban landscape.

  We walked in silence for several minutes, our focus on avoiding countless puddles, debris, and rusted trash cans dotting the streets. At one point, I skirted around the broken hull of a piano. My clothes were now plastered to my body. I realized then how revealing my white shirt was. No wonder the men had ogled me with such hunger in their eyes.

  Ryker had found new clothes for me to wear after my shower. What if he chose the too-tight outfit on purpose, to show me off to his pack? Now that his tongue wasn’t down my throat, reason had returned, along with my fierce distrust of him. I replayed the words “intended mate” over and over in my head. All of the men seemed familiar with the phrase. Did that mean there were others? Other women kept in a place outside the correctional center for . . . for what purpose?

  The men’s pleasure?

  My heart thumped madly once more at the prospect of being prostituted. Such a thing was unheard of in the controlled confines of Tatum City, but I knew it existed. Knew that claiming could mean—

  Oh stars.

  Now I couldn’t breathe. That sodden blanket was back, this time shoving itself down my throat. Ryker could be taking me to a new prison even worse than the last. And this task I was meant to do. I thought the kiss had been the task, but he’d hinted at more than one . . .

  “What’s wrong?”

  I almost fell into Ryker, the lack of oxygen and my overall weakened state getting the better of me. His hands rose to steady me, but I managed to sidestep his touch. A buzz formed in my fingers and toes, a feeling I knew all too well. Adrenaline. The need to run. To react. I locked my knees, refusing to give in to the urge. “Where are you taking me?” I asked, my voice low with suspicion.

  He cocked his head like a dog, as if trying to puzzle out what manner of crazy person stood before him. When he continued to study me in silence, my patience unraveled.

  “Are you taking me to Bren now?” More silent scrutiny. The buzz tingled up my legs. “If not, then take me back to the correctional center so I can be with the other women.” As his look morphed into one of surprise, alarm spiked through me. “Fine. I’ll go back by myself.”

  I whirled, my only plan on returning to relative safety, when he grabbed my wrist and tugged me back. Without hesitation, I swung a fist at his face. He ducked. “Let go of me!” I yelled, panic pitching the words too high. My fingers formed claws as I prepared to rake my nails across his cheek. He caught that wrist, too.

  I was so weak. Weak! I thrashed against his grip like a wild beast, shouting my fury, screaming my fear and helplessness. In a flash, I was lifted, borne over his shoulder. My legs were pinned to his chest as he carried me with purposeful strides down the darkening street.

  “Ryker, let me go. Ryker!” I realized now that the dam had burst without my permission. Despite the wet hair smacking my face and blood rushing to my head, I knew my tears were falling in droves to the broken cement below.

  What felt like only seconds later, I was sliding to my feet. It was darker here. A blank space between two tall buildings. Even more secluded. Before he could restrain my wrists again, I slapped his cheek with all of my strength. Alarm jolted through me and I sucked in a gasp. At any moment, I expected to be slapped in return. But when he made no move against me, I shoved him. His back hit the brick wall behind him. “You did this,” I cried, striking his chest. Again and again. “You did this!”

  He didn’t stop me. Which only enraged me further.

  The anguish. The confusion. The frustration. It needed release.

  “Fight back, Ryker. Punch me. Kick me. Don’t—” I shoved him again. “Just—” My boot connected with his shin. “Stand there!”

  I growled like a rabid animal and charged, fully intent on beating him to a pulp for all he’d done. But when our bodies collided, he wrapped me up in his arms. I fought his grip. Cursed him. But he didn’t relinquish his hold.

  As if a lever had been pulled, the shouting became sobs. Great heaving ones that robbed me of strength. With no other choice, I sagged against him, utterly spent and unable to stop my tears from soaking his shirt. And then it clicked. The realization that he wasn’t simply restraining me. He was . . .

  Holding me.

  His large hand was cradling the back of my head, firmly pressing my cheek to his chest. Then the words registered. Thin and hushed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Over and over he said them. He continued to say them as he rocked me, holding me like a wounded child. He said them like he cared, like he actually freaking cared.

  I wanted to black out then and never wake up. Because this—this—was all too much. But the darkness never came. Only numbness after the tears stopped falling. So I quieted. Ceased fighting. I felt Ryker pull back and search my face, but he wouldn’t find anything. My mind, as well as my heart, had retreated into a dark corner where pain couldn’t touch them. It was the only form of control I had left.

  Where he took me next was a smear of thin, dank hallways and creaking stairs. Cracked plaster came and went. Flickering bare bulbs. Chipped banisters and faded rugs. And then I was sitting on an old leather couch with a wide tear in the cushion. A cup was pressed into my hands. Fingers curled over mine.

  Fine. He could touch me. He could show me he cared. But I would do nothing, nothing, until he gave me some answers.

  “Talk,” I rasped, not bothering to clear my throat. He tapped the cup. I refused to drink. “Tell me what just happened and what’s going to happen, or I’m done.”

  More of that insufferable silence.

  Th
en, “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

  I met his stare. And showed him with a glance just how much I didn’t believe him.

  He rose from his crouched position and paced a few times. He was nervous. Ryker hardly ever revealed outward signs of emotion. When he stopped, his gaze drifted to what looked like a kitchen, giving me a clear view of his flexing jaw. “I’m the son of Rollie Jones, who is head alpha and King of the Recruiter Clan. As the prince and only heir, I was raised to lead the clan someday. That is, if I’m willing to challenge my father and win, which is my birthright.”

  There was a beat of silence, then, “Prince?” I deadpanned. “Like the ones from fairy tales?” This was crazy. And he expected me to believe him?

  He gave a self-deprecating snort. “Hardly.”

  “A cursed prince is more like it,” I muttered. “Prince of the Jerkwads.”

  “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, which surprised me. His expression hardened. “A group of men deemed ‘inferior’ were cast out of Tatum City decades ago, commanded to follow the Supreme Elite’s orders in exchange for food, medicine, and comforts that we struggle to produce out here. Over the years, the Recruiter Clan has grown into a pack comprised mainly of men with animal-like traits. But we are little more than grunts to the Supreme Elite, good for guarding his city and recruiting others to his cause.”

  “You mean kidnapping,” I interrupted. “Stealing children from their homes. And now, I’ve come to find that you’re stealing the mothers, too. Did you know about my—” I stopped myself from revealing that my mum was here. Who knew what he would do with that kind of information.

  He looked away again, this time at the ratty brown rug under his boots. “I know about your mom,” he said quietly.

  I shot off the couch. The cup I’d been holding clattered across the scuffed hardwood floor. My vision blurred from the sudden movement, but that didn’t stop me from taking a threatening step toward him. “You knew?” I hissed, fisting my hands. “You knew she was stuck here this whole time and didn’t tell me?