Reactive: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Elite Trials Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  At the threat, adrenaline shot through my veins. I bared my teeth. “He’s not a toy, Rose. You can’t steal something that’s not yours to take. You think he wants a relationship with you?”

  Her big eyes flashed at the bald insult. “Yes, he will, as long as you don’t mess it up. I’ll have Daddy talk to him. Make him understand what a perfect match we are.”

  I blanched. Before I could stop them, my fingers dug into her bicep. “You’d be a terrible match for him. Leave Renold out of your boy-toy fantasies. Bren doesn’t deserve to be manipulated and embarrassed by the two of you.”

  Her drawn-out gasp was like a splash of ice water to my overheated veins. What had I just done? I’d lost all sense and allowed the conniving witch to wriggle past my defenses. With a twist of her lips, she broke free of my hold. “I’m surprised at you, Lune. You’ve said some treacherous things in the past, but this one is by far the worst. My only regret in all this is that I won’t be there to witness your punishment.”

  As she whirled and descended the stairs in layers of undulating blue, I grasped the bannister with trembling hands.

  What would my disloyal words cost me this time?

  Staring at the crackling flames in the fireplace didn’t ease the tension in the air. The orange flickering glow only reminded me of the people behind me, swaying and twirling to the music. Of Bren dancing with Rose. My nose scrunched up and I focused on Bren standing beside me instead. I opened my mouth to speak with him about last night, but I didn’t know what to tell him. What could I say? Somehow, I had hurt him, but I wasn’t sure why.

  So, I ended up asking the dumbest thing possible. “Everything good?”

  He scratched at his neck before answering, “Sure. Yeah, everything’s fine.” After a few more tense-filled moments, I let the matter drop. My mind was currently too full for such complex issues.

  “You’re awfully distracted tonight.”

  “Huh?” I snapped my gaze to his.

  He cracked a faint grin. “You’ve been staring at the fireplace for the last three minutes, and,” He brushed a thumb over my cheek, “you have whipped cream on your face.” Then he licked his thumb.

  My jaw slackened. Suddenly, the air was too hot. “Stop eating my food.” The whisper was breathy. Ugh.

  “But I’m hungry. And now I don’t have to hunt down something to eat.” He licked his thumb once more. And the old Bren was back.

  I might have drooled a little in response. Pathetic. My body craved to be near his, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Everything felt awkward, my movements, my words. Everything. Something was happening to me and I knew that it was dangerous. Maybe more dangerous than the entirety of the Trials.

  I was doomed.

  “Miss Tatum, the Supreme Elite requires your presence. He said you’d know where to meet him.” Dobson’s inflectionless words beat holes into my sensitive skin and I cringed. Noting my nodded reply, he returned to his post.

  Too soon. I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready. Sweat beaded on my forehead and slid down my rigid spine.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I blinked sluggishly. “Huh?”

  “Something’s bothering you. What’s going on?”

  “Uh . . .” I set my sights on his suit coat, not willing to meet his eyes. Gold buttons shone in the fire’s rippling light. “I have to go. I just . . . I have to—”

  As I turned away, Bren wrapped a hand around mine and tugged. I followed blindly as he wove through the crowd and out of the stifling room. I hid behind his broad back, knowing my mask was cracking. Pieces of it pinged off the hardwood floor with each step. A shiver rocked my body and Bren’s warm hand squeezed mine. My chin wobbled.

  We descended into a shallow green pit. No, a garden. The Winter Garden. Lush, exotic plants swallowed us whole. I wanted to get lost in the labyrinth of flowering plants and trees, and never be found.

  Bren tucked us underneath a weeping frond, hidden from prying eyes. “Look at me,” he urged. I did, and I knew my mask was completely gone as his eyes widened. He reached for me, callused fingers sliding into the hair at the base of my neck. He bent down, our foreheads almost touching, and I didn’t pull away. I needed his nearness like I needed fresh air. “What has you so afraid? Please let me help you.”

  My mouth opened and a squeak emerged. I was in so much trouble already. What was a little more? This could be a test, I was painfully aware of that, but what if Bren truly wanted to help? The weight of my darkest secret was a burden I no longer wanted to carry alone. Its ugliness shouldn’t see the light, yet my lips shaped words never before shared with another.

  “He’s going to punish me. I said something I shouldn’t have and—” I exhaled shakily. “It’s going to be bad.”

  His expression changed. First concern, next confusion, then seething anger. I felt the loss of his hand as he jerked back a step. “That monster.” A chill slid up and down my arms at the barely restrained rage. I’d never heard him speak with such utter contempt, and I quaked at the thought of that wrath directed at me. “This has gone on long enough. It ends now. Let’s go, I’m coming with you.”

  He took my hand again and tugged me out of the green maze. “Bren, stop!” I ripped my hand free. “There’s too much at stake. He can’t know that I told you. Think of the Trials—think of our contracts!” I was pleading now. My head shook as my feet shuffled past him, my hands gesturing for him to step away. “I have to do this alone. Maybe this will be the last time and—”

  “Haven’t you been listening?” His eyes holding mine captive rivaled the sun for intensity. “When will you see that you’re not alone anymore! I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “How can I trust you? I don’t even know why you’re in this city or what Renold wants with you. I don’t even know what you want with me!”

  His fierce gaze softened, as did his voice. “I just want to be with you. It might be safer to go it alone, but I don’t think you want that, little bird. And you don’t have to. I’m here, even if I can’t give you all the reasons why.” He held out a hand. Waiting. Asking.

  Hoping.

  Doubts crawled to the recesses of my mind. My next act could cost me everything, but my hand betrayed all logic and reason and accepted his.

  His teeth ground together. The grating noise wound my nerves tighter and tighter until I knew we couldn’t enter the room of horrors in our current agitated state.

  Nudging his arm, I directed him through a side door and into a dusty, shadow-filled room far enough away from the room to give me a sense of safety. Renold couldn’t hear through walls, could he? It was deathly still, like a graveyard. Bren’s teeth clacked together and I reached up, touching his flexing jaw. “It’ll be okay,” I breathed, allowing myself to explore. His face was smooth for once and the rough pads of my fingers slid toward his mouth.

  His lips looked full, hard yet soft, like the rest of him. The longer I looked at his lips, the more I longed to feel them. What must it be like . . . ?

  He caught my fingers with his. Exposing my palm, he bent down and pressed a kiss there, lingering. My stomach clenched; the rest of my muscles went limp. The tender gesture stirred awake a slumbering beast, one that sent pinpricks of awareness up my arm, spreading outward until my entire body tingled pleasantly.

  “When we’re in there, follow my lead. I won’t let him harm you. Can you trust me with this?”

  Trust.

  Was he really asking me to trust him?

  It was impossible to blindly trust a person shrouded in secrets. Right?

  Trust him, my instincts implored—begged, even.

  I nodded, my pulse spurring into a sickening spiral. “You’d better be real, Brendan Bearon.”

  “I am. I promise you, I am.”

  So, with his body shadowing my back, I opened the door at the end of the hallway.

  Fingers laced behind him, Renold cut a solitary figure in the room’s cold center. He turned as the door�
�s hinges slightly creaked, and his cool gaze absorbed the length of me. His lips parted, then clamped shut as his attention snapped to the surprise guest. “Mr. Bearon, I wasn’t expecting you. I only have need of my daughter. You may return to the Gala.”

  The big fool didn’t heed Renold’s subtle warning. Instead, he nudged me aside so my dress didn’t obstruct the entrance, then closed the door behind us.

  “With all due respect, sir, I can’t do that. It would seem your daughter is in danger, her life threatened more than once these last couple of months. I believe someone wants her eliminated before she can contend in the Trials, so I have given her my protection.”

  A flush spread from my scalp to my toes. No. No, this was all wrong! Bren was screwing me over by painting me as a weak girl in need of a strong protector. Shame tore at my insides.

  Renold sliced his eyes toward me, dicing me to pieces before speaking. “Is that so? The student is protecting the trainer? I raised you to be capable, to take your punches. Now you’re letting someone do it for you?”

  My fingers curled into twin balls; my chin jutted defiantly. “No, sir. I would never allow that. But . . . I’m not on my own anymore. I have someone in my corner.”

  The silence was a rod of writhing electricity. It pierced my skin.

  And then Renold laughed, low and deep, each sound controlled, precise. “I’m beginning to understand now. With the amount of time you two have spent together, it’s only natural that you’d form a bond, of sorts.” He let the statement dangle in the air. My stomach dipped uncomfortably.

  He stirred into motion and paced in front of us. “My eyes and ears informed me that you’ve been hiding something, Lune. A big something.”

  I swallowed and forced myself to look him in the eye.

  “I didn’t believe it at first. It seemed so . . . trivial. But my source is, shall we say, motivated. I’m afraid it’s all too true that my daughter has an extreme fear of mutant beasts.”

  A cold sweat doused my body. I felt exposed. Betrayed. But by whom, I couldn’t be sure. Bren shifted slightly, as if worried of where my mind was taking me.

  “I’m assuming by your silence that this information isn’t news to either of you. Perhaps you’ve bonded more than the contract rules allow?” He stopped pacing and cocked his head. “I’ve heard rumors . . .” I held my breath, waiting. Something very bad was about to happen. A smile crept onto his face, and it was the scariest thing I’d ever seen. “I believe the deal I made with Mr. Bearon needs to be amended. It’s only fair. You break one of my rules and I change your contracts.”

  The blood in my face drained away.

  “The deal still stands: you will not contend in the same Rasa Rowe or Faust Night segments. But you will now contend in the same Arcus Point segment. If you don’t want to fight against my daughter, then you will fight for her, Mr. Bearon. It would seem she needs your protection against the beasts. Unless . . .” He rolled his gaze to mine, “she wants the win more than she wants the protection, in which case you are free to pursue the win for yourself. I wonder if my daughter will play the victim or become the victor. We shall see.”

  With a wave, he brought the meeting to an end. “Choose wisely. Your futures depend on it.”

  Dismissed, we shuffled out the door, the only sound a faint squeak of rusty hinges. I knew my feet were still attached because I moved down the hall and up the stairs, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel much of anything.

  Nothing.

  I wanted to be nothing.

  As I twisted the door handle toward temporary freedom and away from this oppressive house, Bren gently wound a hand around my left bicep. I stared at his fingers. So strong. So willing to protect. Or was that just a front? Had he been a part of this scheme all along, to control the outcome of the Trials?

  “I won’t be a victim, Bren.” The words held no anger or bitterness, not even sadness. They were flat. Emotionless.

  “I know,” he said, drawing me to him. I stiffened and he froze. “Talk to me, Lune. Please.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Only one of us can win Title of Choice now. Renold made sure of that. I . . . I need some fresh air.”

  “You really want to be alone? Let me come with you.”

  “If I had remained alone, none of this would have happened. But now that I care, the world is a million shades of gray. I—” A breath that sounded too much like a sob burst out of me. “I have to go. You have to let me go.”

  A swell of panic crashed into my chest. Emotions flooded back in a flash and I was drowning. My eyes whipped to his and I knew I’d made a mistake in looking. His expression was pure hurt. Agony. I couldn’t breathe. With a weak yank, I slid the door open and stepped through.

  I waited for the hand on my arm to pull me back, but those careful fingers released their hold, leaving a ring of cold in their wake.

  I melted into the night.

  He didn’t come after me.

  I should have felt relieved. But I didn’t.

  I saddled Freedom and led my charger from her stall. The stables were empty of human life. Good. I didn’t want to see another face for the rest of the night, not even Asher’s. I needed solace in the only friend who understood exactly how I felt right now.

  I patted her bristly hide before swiftly mounting, the rich blue fabric of my dress like a cloud over her back. She took off at an even canter, eager for a late-night run. I let her instincts and the moonlight guide our way. The dress’s thin sleeves did little to ward off the winter chill and, unfortunately, the cold seeping into my body ripped the last of the emotional numbness away.

  I now felt the full extent of the night’s treachery, and a sob knotted in my throat.

  My prison master didn’t deserve my tears. I bit the inside of my cheek until I drew blood, staving off the flood that threatened to gush from my eyes. How had it come to this? How had I let this place so thoroughly burrow beneath my skin and poison my veins? For a decade, I had been careful not to form strong attachments so that I could eventually leave this city with no regrets.

  But now . . . now I regretted everything.

  Bonding with Freedom.

  Befriending Asher.

  Protecting Iris.

  Caring for . . . Bren.

  The price of letting others in was pain. Because caring hurt. And I couldn’t seem to stop. I cared more and more each day, giving away pieces of myself until my heart was scattered throughout this black city. Even if I did make it out, I wouldn’t be leaving whole.

  Freedom.

  What was it, really?

  The heady idea of it had kept me going, kept me fighting, when all I wanted to do was quit. But could I ever have total freedom when my heart wished for one thing and my body another? Freedom was almost within reach, but I’d never felt more trapped.

  The splash of hooves against water and the river’s rush colliding with Freedom’s underbelly distracted me. But only for a moment. We were heading west toward the Arcus Point Trial site, where some of my greatest fears resided. I didn’t change our course.

  Anger, hot as acid, coursed through my veins. Anger at myself for fearing the beasts. Anger at the beasts for existing. Anger at the dangerous Trials. Anger at Renold for creating them.

  Anger at Bren.

  I wanted to scream into the night, too much of a coward to scream in Bren’s face. Who are you, Brendan Bearon, and what are you scheming? Why won’t you tell me? Because I wasn’t a complete fool. I knew he was up to something—something bigger than the Trials. Whatever his end goal was, it wasn’t the same as mine.

  Seemingly out of nowhere, Arcus Point’s glinting metal cage blocked our path and I yanked on the reins. Freedom skidded on the slick forest floor as I slipped from the saddle, less than gracefully. There was a loud rip, followed by a snap. A section of my gown fluttered to the snow-dusted ground. I felt a moment of guilt for being so careless with Arlyn’s flawless masterpiece, but the dogged pressure in my chest smothered the
feeling.

  I approached the cage that would imprison me with several mutant monsters. A stupid idea formed. It promised a delusional sense of gratification and I grabbed ahold of the flickering hope with fisted hands. I loosened my fingers, surprised to find rocks resting on my palms. When had I gathered rocks?

  Didn’t matter.

  A spark of adrenaline was all it took, then I was hurling rocks at my cage of death. The echoing clang of metal rang in my ears and, instead of backing away, I surged forward, searching for another rock. “I wish you didn’t exist!” The words hurtled from my gut toward the structure, bouncing off harmlessly. I picked up another ice-encrusted rock and threw it. “I hate you!”

  I threw rock after rock, sometimes sticks. Whatever I could get my hands on. The anger was a firebrand beneath my skin. Slowly the cage morphed and, in my mind’s eye, Bren stood before me. I paused, wavering and unsure. Friend or foe? Protector or betrayer? The doubts crept in again, now that I would have to compete against him in a Trial. I knew he cared for me, but did he care enough to let me win?

  Renewed anger snapped through me and I growled through clenched teeth as I pelted the cage all over again. Throwing and throwing until I mentally defeated Bren and a new image appeared.

  Me.

  My chest heaved for breath. I hiccupped on a sob. Bren, I could defeat. I couldn’t trust him to protect me during the Arcus Point Trial. But me? I couldn’t trust her most of all. And I needed to. I needed to trust my instincts, the very ones that betrayed me, if I was to ever escape this caged city and all the contending beasts prowling around my waning strength. My walls had lowered too much. Was it already too late to reinstate my defenses?

  My arm lifted to throw another rock when another sound rose above my rage. I froze. My senses pricked. The sound . . . It was a scream.

  Human.

  The noise was followed by a savage roar. It flipped my anger to fear. The rock tumbled from my fingers. In a flash, I scrambled toward Freedom, plowing into her side before launching into the saddle. We plunged into the woods as I frantically groped for the dangling reins. A second roar spiked my adrenaline and I glanced back, convinced we were being chased by a demon.