I palm a dagger and stab my comm, ending any further communications. “I’m out of my Shell,” I say, my voice roughened as I head off any questions she might have. “Doona want tae take any chances.”
My time with Ten isn’t up, and I won’t relinquish another second.
She reaches me and climbs onto my lap, bracing her knees at my sides. Automatically my hands settle on her hips to hold her in place. She smells incredible, like a field of wildflowers on a warm summer’s day. I breathe her in as if she’s a lifeline. Maybe she is. Or maybe she’s more than a lifeline.
Maybe she’s everything.
“You make my toes curl.” She rubs her nose against mine, and the soft contact is electric. “Tell me what you want, Killian.”
I open my mouth to say, Ye, only ye, but an accusation escapes instead. “You make poems for Archer.” As the words echo in my ears, I curse. I want a poem more than I want sex?
Who have I become?
“Are you jealous?” A tinkling laugh leaves her, her warm, sweet breath fanning over my chin. “Even though I made one for you, too. Tsk-tsk.”
“I have no’ forgotten the one you made me, lass.” It’s getting more and more difficult to control my accent around her. And why bother, anyway? She knows I’m an orphan, and she doesn’t care. “You doona love me. I canna trust you. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Except now you know I do love you, and you can trust me.” She studies my face, grinning a toothy grin and spinning my heart into a dangerous spiral. “But you still want a new one.”
I hike one of my shoulders in a shrug, all whatever. Meanwhile, my mind is shouting, Give me!
She plays with the ends of my hair, tickling my scalp, and recites:
There’s a boy named Killian Flynn.
The most handsome of all the men.
Each and every night
Girls melt at first sight
But he only has eyes for Ten.
One corner of my mouth lifts. “A limerick?”
“Archer would flip his lid over a limerick, yet I’ve never created one for him. But. If you don’t like it, we can pretend I didn’t create one for you, either, and—”
“It’s mine,” I rush to say. “You can no’ take it back.”
Her grin returns full force. “Possessive of a poem. Could you be any more adorable?”
I shouldn’t preen, but that’s exactly what I do, like a once-dying rose suddenly opening to face the ever-brightening sun. This girl likes me, just as I am. She likes me enough to tease me, and she enjoys the time we spend together. To her, I’m worth something. I’m…family?
“Since you can’t remember our past,” she says, then pauses to chew her bottom lip. “What if I can let you inside my mind so that you can see our history through my eyes?”
Shadows take me by the throat, squeeze. “You know how tae let me in yer mind?”
“No. I mean, yes.” Frowning, she tilts her head to the side. “My Grid is on the fritz, and yet I know exactly what to do.”
I’m shaking my head before she finishes. “You shouldna make such a temptin’ offer.” Not to me. “You shouldna let anyone inside your mind, ever. Especially me. I’m no’ a bad guy. I’m worse. People will always take advantage, learnin’ your weaknesses tae use against you.”
She’s got to do a better job of protecting herself from predators like me.
Again she rubs her nose against mine. “How cute. You assume I have weaknesses.”
I want to smile and shake her at the same time. And I want to resist her… I do…should…but I can’t. My curiosity is too great. Can I be blamed? With Ten perched on my lap, my brain isn’t functioning at optimum levels; all of my blood has rushed elsewhere.
“Whatever memories you share, I’ll see through yer eyes, learn yer every thought and secret,” I say, my final warning. “I might acquire information you wish tae keep private.”
“You are priority one. Whatever you need, I’ll give.”
My mouth dries. I nod.
Nibbling on her lower lip, an action that only makes my blood descend faster, she frames the sides of my face with her beautiful hands. Skin to skin, female to male. Warmth to warmth, wife to husband. My fingers twitch involuntarily, my grip tightening on her hips.
Determined to maintain control of my memories, the shadows sharpen their claws, sinking their razor tips deeper into my mind. I flinch.
“Close your eyes.” Ten kisses one of my temples, then the other.
Perhaps this is a trick meant to disarm me. When I close my eyes, she’ll attack. For once, I don’t care. I’m willing to take a chance.
No risk, no reward, right?
“Inhale…exhale… That’s good,” she says, her voice as soft as a caress. Every time I inhale, she exhales; when I exhale, she inhales, until we’re breathing each other’s air. I still taste the shot of whiskey I downed, but now the sweetness of her teases my senses.
As I wait for something, anything to happen, I’m tense, on edge. Then, oh, then, I feeeeel her. She’s there, in my mind, standing in the middle of the bridge that connects us, smiling at me, everything right in a world gone wrong.
Light glows from her pores. Light she saved and desperately needs, yet still she gives it to me.
“Stop,” I croak.
She brightens…grows brighter still…making my shadows shudder with fear, run and hide.
Between one second and the next, a nearly blinding flash of Light explodes between us. Agony sears me, and I grunt. Sweat pours from my temples.
Suddenly I’m trapped inside a small room. My—Ten’s—arms are lifted overhead, wrists bound by chains that are anchored to the ceiling. She’s human, a prisoner at the Prynne Asylum.
A thirty-something human stands in front of her, rolling up his shirtsleeves. Dr. Vans. Evil in the flesh. “You know, I’ve always admired your spirit, Miss Lockwood. It’s a shame I have to damage it.”
She’s sick to her stomach, but determined to withstand whatever the male dishes. “Go ahead. Do your worst. Your best has only ever tickled.”
Sickness churns in my stomach. How could anyone hurt her like this?
A big-boned nurse with frizzy red hair wheels a large tray inside the room. The door closes behind her. Two wolves. One sheep. No way out.
Ten does her best to remain calm. “You don’t have to do this. You said there are no other options, but that’s not true. You can give me the time I asked for.”
Time… She hasn’t yet decided where she’ll live after she dies. Myriad or Troika. Stand with her parents, or against them. All she wants is the right to freely choose—what we all want.
“Time is running out.” The doctor smiles at her, and it’s clear he enjoys her pain. “No, we’re going to do this. Money buys happiness, and anyone who says otherwise is lying. I want my money.”
“Aren’t you afraid of what awaits you in the Everlife?” she asks.
“I’ve never cared about tomorrow. Only today.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I’ve always been like Dr. Vans, taking care of now with no concern for tomorrow. Or the feelings of others. I despise the fact that we have something in common.
The two argue for a bit, and I’m amazed at Ten’s strength, at her unwillingness to bend. She’s willing to die, simply to use a basic human right too many take for granted. When have I ever felt so strongly about anything?
Then she says, “Living shouldn’t be synonymous with surviving.”
The doctor pops on a pair of latex gloves. “You have my permission to scream as loudly as you’d like. These walls are soundproofed.”
What he does next fills me with such righteous rage, I’m nearly rent in two. Yes, he makes this brave, precious girl scream, over and over again. Despite the horrors he inflicts upon her, she never gives him what he wants: a pledge to Myriad.
; A realization I reached earlier solidifies: Ten Lockwood will never betray Troika. Not now, not ever. And I… I…
The shadows do everything in their power to shut down the memory, but they are no match for Ten. Her Light forces those shadows to run and hide…and…
I begin to remember bits and pieces of my life… How I read Ten’s file before I met her. How my Leader called her “hardheaded” and “foolish.” Before me, Myriad sent a sleazy ML named James to win her over. While everyone else around her attacked her, he pretended to show her kindness; of course she fell for him. Only, she still didn’t make covenant with Myriad for him, even under the guise of saving his life.
So I was sent in, because my specialty is romance, like James, only on the opposite end of the spectrum. He is (supposedly) the good boy a good girl can build a life with, and I am the bad boy those good girls hope to tame, (supposedly) exciting. I can show them the time of their lives.
At first, Ten wanted nothing to do with me. Not exactly a new experience. Many others have rejected me, too. Then, she softened toward me. How? I must know! But the specifics remain a blank.
Why does it matter? In the end, she rejected me, choosing Troika.
As she softened toward me, I softened toward her. I must have despaired, knowing I’d lost her. Wrong. Knowing I’d never truly won her.
I can’t have Ten and my position in Myriad. One will always endanger the other.
She made her choice, leaving me in the dust. After our bonding, I had to do the same.
Ten moans, as if she’s in pain, and my attention zooms to her. She’s surrounded by darkness. My shadows didn’t run away to hide. No, they zoomed along the bridge, entering her mind…strengthening the darkness already writhing inside her. She’s fighting, but she’s losing, growing weaker.
Protective instincts surge, and I curse. This girl and her memories have me twisted up. I make a decision, or think I do, and emotion rises up to change my mind.
Emotion—or trust?
I don’t know, I can’t tell. Up is down and down is up. If the shadows overtake her, I will win. Her Myriad side will take over. Maybe. Probably. She’ll do what I considered impossible and betray Troika. Hopefully.
No, no, not hopefully. I like her, just as she is. I don’t want to change her. She’s—
Boom!
My eyelids spring open as the door to the rented room bursts at the hinges. Zhi Chen looms in the entryway, a Dazer in hand. Dark hair. Pale skin with a slight golden tint. Behind him are three men—that I can see. Knowing my Leader, I’m sure many others surround the building.
I stagger to my feet while shoving Ten on to the bed behind me, using my body as a shield. A sense of urgency bombards me. Get rid of them. Now. I need more time. I’m not ready to part with Ten.
She splays across the mattress, her eyes closed, her hands pressed over her ears. Little whimpers escape her.
“Go,” I shout, but of course, Zhi remains in place. He’s a Leader, my superior.
“We’re here for the girl.” His smile reminds me of Dr. Vans’s. Cold. Cruel. “But don’t worry, Mr. Flynn. You’ll be coming with us. We’d like to…chat with you, too.”
My hands fist, the bones so taut I fear my knuckles will cut through my skin. “The Troikans call me the Butcher, Mr. Chen. Do no’ make me show you why.”
He pales but remains in place. “You are outnumbered and outgunned.”
I could beg for mercy—but I won’t. Zhi knows nothing about my past. Few do. Before Archer’s defection, he erased details about the abuse I endured from my files. As a beloved son of the Secondking, he had access to every building in every city, and no one dared question his actions.
At the time, I thought he had my back. He was the only friend I trusted. When he left, I figured the action was a parting gift, and I hated him all the more. He’d known he was leaving, but hadn’t talked to me or warned me.
For years I wondered how Archer could give up glorious freedom in exchange for the stifling rules found in Troika. I even asked him once, when he attempted to recruit me.
I desire the trust of my brethren more than the adoration of my father’s people.
At the time, I considered him a fool. Now…
“Take us tae Ambrosine, then,” I demand. I’ll speak with the king directly. After everything I’ve done for Myriad, he’ll agree to place Ten in my care. He must.
Zhi’s smile only widens. “Who do you think ordered us to take her in early?”
My heart drops into my stomach. No. Absolutely not. But…
I know as well as anyone that the Secondking will do anything, betray anyone, to defeat Troika.
As Ten says, we reap what we sow. I sowed betrayal, so, I’m reaping betrayal. This is my fault in more ways than one.
“If she’s hurt…” I stealthily reach for the dagger hidden in the waist of my jeans.
“Oh, she’ll be hurt, and so will you.” Zhi squeezes the trigger on the Dazer. “That is the only guarantee I can give you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
“If you do not work, you do not eat.”
—Troika
Ten
Voices. Strange noises. Huffs and puffs. Grunts. One thud after another.
Fighting?
I pry open heavy eyelids. My vision is hazy. I think I see Killian dodge a stream of Dazer fire as he lunges at a group of soldiers. Intruders! He uses his wrist cuffs to disarm two men. Not just to disarm, but to arm himself. The hooks at the ends of the wires latch on to the weapons and fling them in Killian’s direction. He catches both and fires.
Pop, pop, pop. Pop, pop.
Men bellow with agony.
Why would Killian need the soldiers’ weapons when he has ours?
Unless ours do not work…
Darkness envelops me, pain sears me and I lose track of my surroundings. My fault. I gave my Light—my strength—to Killian, and took some of his shadows. Only wanted to set him free.
His life has been a series of tragedies, and I hoped to give him peace. I want better for him—and I’ll be better for him, even if it destroys me.
He comes first. Love comes first.
Darkness will not win.
Except, the shadows in my mind are thicker than before and only growing. Old resentments flare, no longer content to remain hidden, blending with a fresh surge of rage.
Killian betrayed me. With his shadows come more and more of his secrets. After our shower, he messaged his Leader, thinking he would win me over, convince me that there’s no better place to live than Myriad. Zhi Chen promised to send someone to follow and “protect” us. What a joke. As if the powers that be would ever accept me. All along, they planned to hurt and use me.
Still, a part of me refuses to fault him for doing what he thinks is right, what is best for his people, and the realization makes me flinch. I’m Kayla, I realize. I thought myself different, thought my love stronger and my man nobler. Wrong! Killian taught me better.
Luciana said Myriadians go crazy after a bond, and Troikans suffer later. Now I get it. Because of Killian’s actions, I’m going to suffer. I am suffering.
If there’s a reason for his memory loss, there’s a reason for this. What am I supposed to learn? How to forgive? I can do that. To trust him, anyway? I can’t.
No, you won’t. Trust is a choice, like love.
Fool! Look where love takes you.
Stop! What’s done is done. Anger will lead me down the wrong path. I’ll rant and rave, and do nothing but convince Killian that he made the right decision, choosing his realm over me.
Punish them all. Make them beg for mercy.
A command from my deepest, darkest instincts. A desire to get even with the people who betrayed me. Tit for tat. I did nothing wrong, and yet I suffer. A tormentor deserves to suffer a thousand t
imes worse than his victims, yes? Problem is, these instincts aren’t always right. Fruit that grows on a poisoned tree is poison. If I give tit for tat, I’m no better than the one who hurt me. Actually, I’m worse. I’m a hypocrite.
And really, blame can be laid at my door, too. Sow, reap. Once, I put Troika first, Killian second. Today, Killian put Myriad first, me second.
The best response? Resist rage. Look beyond the moment to the eternal.
What future do I desire? One with Killian, or without?
1 + 0 = 1
1 + 1 = 2
There are two sides to every story. The positive and the negative. Some people say there’s a third side. Neutral. But neutral isn’t a side—it’s an excuse.
Pain explodes through my head, disrupting my musings, drawing me back into the present. Killian hisses, experiencing the same explosion of pain. Perhaps he is the cause?
Then I’m floating, the softness of the mattress no longer supporting me. No, not floating. I’m…being carried? A heart beats against my temple, and an unfamiliar scent envelopes me—grapes not yet completely fermented into wine. Not unpleasant, but not welcome, either.
My darker side loves it, has never smelled anything sweeter.
“—to Killian?” a male voice says, catching my attention.
“He took out sixteen of my men before we were able to subdue him. He should be headed for the Kennels, and soon he will be. After our interrogation of the girl.”
There are sixteen ounces in a pound.
Abraham Lincoln was the sixteenth president of the United States, and he led during the Civil War.
Sixteen is the atomic number of sulfur.
Why did Killian fight his own countrymen? To safeguard me?
A trick. Only a trick.
Or my seduction worked, and Killian is beginning to trust me.
Too late.
“She’s to be interrogated? Nothing more?” the male asks.
“Of course there’s something more. We’ve never had a Troikan inside Myriad. We’ll be running tests on both of the Flynns. Ah, but I love the sounds of screaming. Music to my ears.” A chuckle of genuine amusement.
Everlife Trilogy Complete Collection: Firstlife ; Lifeblood ; Everlife Page 94
