Immersive

by Becky Moynihan

  If he wasn’t still holding my chin, my mouth would have fallen open. I wanted to believe he was simply manipulating me so I’d divulge my Visionary abilities, but . . . but this felt real. Like the mask was off and he was letting me see a side of himself that no one else saw. I swallowed, the sound loud in the silence. I nodded without comment.

  He went to work on the tattoo again, deftly poking a curved line down the scar on my face. The pain was terrible, a constant, scraping burn. But Ryker was right. Pain was better than feeling dead inside. My driving need to fight for a better future had returned in full force. He might have plans to leave this place, but I was formulating a plan of my own.

  And I would give him no choice but to help me complete it.

  Bren was somewhere beneath my feet.

  Instead of a locked cell, he was being held in the city’s sewers. There was only one entrance and exit to his prison: a manhole in the middle of a dead end street.

  When I asked Ryker what would happen if someone caught me down there, he simply said, “Don’t get caught.”

  Great. At least during the day, most of the clansmen were asleep. When the sun lowered, they came out in droves, and when the moon vanished, so did they. Nocturnal predators, indeed. It was now early morning, the sky and buildings cast in shades of gray as the rain from yesterday continued to pelt the streets.

  I pulled the hood of my borrowed jacket further over my head, trying to remain invisible and mask my scent. But I was in my own shirt and pants again. If someone looked closely enough, there was no disguising my feminine figure.

  In the distance, Ryker spoke to the man guarding Bren’s underground prison. He was making a deal of some kind with the clansman. Hopefully. I was waiting for his signal in case things went south, poised to flee back to his apartment.

  Thoughts of Bren’s living conditions made my stomach roil. Did the vorax visit him down there too? “Oh, Bren,” I breathed, my heart aching for him and all he must have endured the past few weeks. And it ached for what I had to tell him. What would I say, exactly? “I’m Ryker’s intended mate now, but only for pretend. Anyway, I let him kiss me, and I sort of felt something. But I didn’t want to.”

  Yeah, this wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Separating from the guard, Ryker headed toward my hiding location while the clansman adjusted his jacket and went the opposite direction. Leaving the manhole unattended.

  Ryker slid into the cramped space beside me. “It’s done,” he whispered.

  “How did you get him to leave?” I spoke just as quietly. “I thought they were all mad at you.”

  “Only when I have nothing to offer. I just happened to have something he wanted.”

  “What did you give him?” I peered up at his profile.

  “Medicine from the correctional center.”

  My brows rose. Smart.

  He looked down at me. “We have twenty minutes before a new guard shows up for his shift. You sure you want to do this?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, even as my heart nervously skipped a few beats. “Are you? We’re risking a lot.”

  “A promise is a promise,” was all he said. Then, before I could block him, he carefully pried my hood back. I stilled as he pushed aside my damp hair to inspect the completed tattoo. After a tense moment, he lowered his hand and glanced at the street. “It suits you. Don’t get it infected while you’re down there.”

  I nodded, unable to respond. His actions were confusing me again, and stars above, I really needed to see Bren now. Ryker ticked his head in a follow me gesture, making sure the coast was clear before casually slipping into the street. I tried to mimic his confident strides, transitioning my gait to a man’s. He peered back at me with a frown. I shrugged and gave him a you should have let me practice first look.

  He shook his head without comment and scanned the dark buildings for signs of life, no doubt listening with his keen senses. My eyes stayed glued to his back, my focus on making as little noise as possible. When Ryker paused, I stiffened, prepared to run. Then I noticed the tall, chain link fence blocking our path that I’d assumed would be unlocked. A giant padlock sealed its gate shut.

  Crap. Why didn’t the guard—?

  Before I could finish the thought, Ryker was already moving, scrambling up and over the fence. He landed softly on the other side, straightening to stare at me expectantly. I stared back, my mouth agape.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Just like climbing a tree, right?

  Ugh.

  I stepped back and took a running leap. Metal, slippery with rain, bit into my skin. I knew that I was making too much noise, knew that my movements were clumsy from lack of exercise, but I made it to the top. Bren would have caught me on the way down, but Ryker stepped back as I gracelessly landed.

  Okay, I was officially comparing them. I couldn’t help myself.

  Ryker was already crouched near the manhole when I turned. He waved me over, motioning for me to grab the lid. We barely managed to lift the unwieldy metal circle. The abrasive edges dug into my callused palms as I dragged my side a couple feet before letting go, puffing out a strained breath.

  Nervous excitement swirled in my gut. I almost jumped into the black hole right then in my overwhelming need to see Bren. Ryker grabbed my arm as if sensing the idiot move. He shook his head, pulling me down as he bent to pick up a small rock, then dropped it into the hole. I held my breath, waiting for the rock to crack against cement. But it dropped. And dropped. Finally, I heard a faint plink.

  All went silent except the pattering rain.

  I met Ryker’s solemn look, mouthing, “Holy crap.” He nodded, gesturing at the metal ladder rungs attached to the hole’s side. I didn’t waste a moment, already slinging a booted leg over the side. I was about to lower myself down when a hand squeezed mine.

  I glanced up to find Ryker’s face inches away. His eyes slid to my lips. I sucked in a breath, frozen at the thought of him kissing me. I silently asked him not to, hoping he would honor his word.

  He leaned forward, but instead of kissing me, lightly brushed his cheek against mine to whisper, “You have ten minutes. I’ll tap on the ladder three times. Don’t be late.” When he pulled back, he added so quietly I almost missed it, “Be careful.”

  As I descended, I cleared my mind of Ryker. The rungs were slippery, and after almost falling to my death, I slowed, gripping the metal until my fingers throbbed. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I reached the bottom. A pit of mud, maybe. Or Bren wrapping me in his arms with a shout of joy.

  But when my boots landed on the ground, it was solid except for rain water running down the middle of the worn concrete. The only light was from above, so it took my eyes precious seconds to adjust. There were shapes moving in the shadows. Rats—or vorax. And the smell was overwhelming, a mixture of damp earth and rotten eggs.

  My nose wrinkled, but I released the ladder and entered the sewer tunnel, following the water’s path. Weaponless, I sought out the only comfort I had—my bear tooth necklace. I grasped the tooth as I navigated the underground lair.

  Several yards in, a thin strain of light from above illuminated a large form hunched against the wall.

  My entire body stiffened.

  What if it wasn’t Bren? What is this had all been a sick game to lure me down here so a giant mutant beast could eat me for breakfast?

  The form shifted. I jumped, blindly reaching for the ladder. My fingers met air. I was too far away and the beast was probably faster than me. I tried not to panic, but fear barreled through me. My breaths came in spurts. When the form shifted a second time, I couldn’t hold in a tiny shriek.

  “Lune?”

  At the sound, everything in me clenched tightly. That voice. That deep rolling timbre. More gravelly than usual with a strong note of disbelief, but I would know that voice anywhere.

  My heart turned over and I stumbled forward, tripping over loose bits of rock. Without hesitation, I splashed thr
ough the sewer water. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered but getting to him. When I saw him, when I really saw him, I started to cry.

  He was bare-chested and shoeless. The stubble on his jaw and cheeks had grown into a dark beard. And he was slumped against the wall as if he had no strength to stand.

  But he was still beautiful. So very beautiful.

  “Come here.”

  My breath hitched at the quiet request, but I couldn’t seem to move.

  “Please, Lune,” he begged. Pleaded. Just like in my dreams. “I need to know that you’re real.”

  His words squeezed the air from my lungs. I had the overpowering urge to run then. But this time, I wouldn’t be running away. I lurched forward, demolishing the space between us—space that I had cursed and hated for tearing us apart. I didn’t stop until his warm body was beneath my fingertips. Until my hands were running over his face, down his chest, exploring every inch they could find. Making sure he was whole. Alive.

  I was on my knees before him, drawing him to me. I pressed his cheek to my chest and held him there, comforting him the same way he’d comforted me so many times. My fingers found his back, tentatively seeking out the damage, afraid to hurt him. When they felt the raised skin where he’d been shot, I choked out a whimper. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Bren.”

  With a loud, rattling clank of metal, he finally moved. His arms came around me, squeezing me to him until my ribs groaned in protest.

  But I didn’t care. I loved the pain in my bones. Loved the ache spreading across my chest. Loved every second of discomfort if it meant we were together again.

  “It wasn’t your fault, little bird. I never should have tried to get away. But we were surrounded and I couldn’t free you on my own. I just . . . I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  It took me a moment to realize he was crying. His breathing was harsh. Anguished. Relieved. His legs came up, boxing mine in as if to keep me from disappearing. I clung to him with no intention of letting go.

  This.

  This was right.

  There was no confusion. No doubt.

  It was a knowing. An assurance without thought.

  My heart simply knew.

  This was home.

  Too soon, he eased back, raising his hands to cup my face. “Say something, Lune. Please tell me you’re okay. Did they . . . did they do anything to you? Are you hurt?”

  My lips parted as I prepared to reassure him, but the words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t lie. The secrets had to stop, and I couldn’t expect the truth from him if I let fear keep me from being honest in return. But this was going to suck. Really, really suck.

  “I . . .” My stomach cramped. Looking into his concerned eyes physically hurt.

  Stars above, just say it!

  “Ryker kissed me and I let him,” I blurted in a rush. Then gasped. Hearing it out loud was so much worse.

  Bren stopped breathing. His golden irises shone bright with emotion.

  “And . . . and I agreed to be his intended mate. It was the only way he could sneak me down here.”

  Tears burned my eyes as I helplessly watched him absorb the news. Confusion, shock, horror, then hurt leached the color from his face.

  The look of utter betrayal was the hardest to watch.

  A thousand apologies sprang to my tongue, but we didn’t have time for them right now. “That’s not the worst of it, Bren. They’re breeding women here. The kids are then being transferred to Tatum City—maybe other locations, too. Did you know? Did you know that my mother was here all this time?”

  His eyes widened. He still didn’t speak.

  My fingers squeezed his, trembling as dread sleuthed through my veins. “Bren, please,” I whispered. “Please say you didn’t know.”

  He blinked, panic and shame paling his skin further. “I-I knew. I knew about the women and children. But, Lune, I—”

  A gasp ripped through me. Now it was my turn to feel the gut-wrenching punch of betrayal. I dug my nails into his palms, trying to pry his hands off my face. “Let me go. Let me go, Bren!”

  He only slid his fingers into my hair, anchoring me in place. “Just wait, Lune. Listen.” I glared, ready to spew venomous words, but his expression grew determined. “I knew about them for years, unable to help them. I hated not being able to save them. Hated that I left them, that I wasn’t strong enough. I hate myself every day for my failure.

  “That’s why I went to Tatum City, the source of the problem,” he said, his voice hushed and urgent. “But I swear I didn’t know about your mom. I never visited the correctional center because I didn’t . . . I didn’t want to know who was in there. You have to believe me. When I met Iris, though, I began to suspect. What were the odds that she’d end up in Tatum City too? But I couldn’t tell you about the breeding program. It’s connected to my mission, and I’m not auth—” He froze. I watched with growing alarm as his expression pinched. His neck muscles spasmed like he couldn’t breathe. Like he . . .

  Ah crap.

  “You have a restraining chip in again.” It wasn’t a question.

  He nodded, conveying with his eyes how sorry he was.

  I searched his face for signs of falsehood, but found none. There was just pain. Raw, honest pain. Guilt pressed down on me. Here he was, suffering in a rat-infested sewer, and I had done nothing but cause him more agony. I sighed. “We still have a lot to discuss, but I believe you.”

  He practically deflated, heaving a sigh of his own. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this mess. I can never apologize enough. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, however short that may be.”

  I frowned. “Don’t talk like that. We’re both getting out of here. Besides, I’m the one who left Blue Ridge Sector. That was my choice.”

  A deep groove formed between his brows. “Yeah.”

  We fell into an uncomfortable silence, and I wondered where his mind was taking him. Maybe to thoughts of Ryker, the man who’d helped break me out of his home. Who’d forced him to reconnect with his past. Who’d kissed the girl he loved. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I simply pressed my thumb to that deep groove and smoothed it out.

  He studied me for a long moment, regret and sorrow evident in his eyes. I worried that he’d push me away again like he did after I’d lost my memories. My heart fluttered in panic. He must have sensed it, must have made a decision because he suddenly tilted my head and kissed my cheek. The contact was feather light, his lips soft and tentative. But it was enough to undo me.

  At my quick inhale, he pulled away, as if afraid he’d made the wrong move. I touched his face, feeling the newness of his beard, urging him on without words.

  When he tipped my head again and brushed a kiss to my other cheek, a wave of fierce longing washed over me. My hands fell to his shoulders and a pathetic sound left my throat, but I didn’t care. He was kissing me. Kissing me. Even after what I’d admitted.

  His warm mouth roved up my jaw. I bared my neck, silently urging him to kiss a path there too. He did, swirling his tongue against my skin as he went, completely wrecking me. I groaned weakly, utterly lost to his touch. His lips nipped at my ear and I shivered with pleasure. But when his rough beard scratched my left temple, I couldn’t hold in a pained hiss.

  Bren jerked back, surprised. My eyes popped open and so did his. I knew the moment he spotted my new tattoo. “Lune. What is this?”

  I reached up to cover the mark with my hood, but he caught my wrist. I shrugged offhandedly, but he wasn’t fooled. If anything, my tripping heartbeat gave me away. “It’s . . . we had to earn Rollie’s trust. Bren, it’s not what you think.”

  “Not what I think?” he growled, eyes blazing. “You have the Recruiter Clan’s mark on your face!”

  Crap, he was more than mad. He was furious.

  “It’s not their mark,” I said calmly, trying in vain to soothe his rage. “I had Ryker alter it—”

  “Ryker
did this? I’m going to kill him. I’m going to—”

  “Bren!” I cried, alarmed at his vicious tone. Hearing him so unhinged sent fear pumping through me. Not for myself—for him. “You can’t kill Ryker. We need him. Without his help, we’ll never get out of here. Please.” I threaded my fingers into his matted hair. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. Channel that energy into escaping this place.”

  At that, his shoulders slumped and he looked away. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  He released me and gave his wrists a shake. The jangling noise startled me, and I stared stupidly at the metal cuffs and links securing him to the wall. “I can’t escape,” he replied.

  It was his tone that jarred me from my stupor. The unmistakable note of defeat. I studied his expression, horrified at what was written there. “No!” I snapped, and roughly grabbed his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You are not allowed to give up, Brendan Bearon. I don’t care how bleak things look or how impossible it seems. We all lose our way at times. We make mistakes, we fail, and we fall. Then we get up again. But giving up? Don’t. You. Dare.”

  Clank, clank, clank.

  Ryker chose that moment to tap on the ladder.

  Our time was up.

  No!

  A tremor shook me so hard, my teeth chattered. “I-I can’t leave you. Not like this. I don’t know what to do.”

  Bren gave me the saddest smile. It tore out a piece of my heart. “Yes, you do,” he said, and ever so carefully tucked a lock of hair behind my left ear. His finger traced the crescent moon tattoo. “You’ve gotten this far. Don’t stop now. You’re capable and strong—so very strong. I’ve always believed in you. But . . . but I wanted so badly to . . . to . . .”

  “To protect me? Save me?”

  He nodded, a pained look on his face. “But I can’t seem to save anyone. Look at me.” He rattled the chains attached to his wrists. “You don’t need me anymore.”

  “Yes, I do,” I said firmly, hating that the one person who’d lifted me up over and over again was crumbling before my eyes. He was losing faith in himself. “And you can still save me. But now it’s my turn to save you.”