Transitions: Novella Collection (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2.5)

by Sundin, Jesikah

  “I love you,” he whispered into their kiss.

  His hands threaded into her hair, winding strand after strand over his fingers. She leaned her head back, exposing her neck once again. Wanting more of him touching more of her. Remembering the heat of his breath kissing one erogenous area after another. She arched her body with a forming sigh when his mouth connected to her offered skin, only to bite back a startled cry instead.

  An image flashed violently in her mind.

  Her hand reaching for a door knob. The sound of music beating on the other side. The pain shooting through her skull when he grabbed her hair and yanked her back to him. Toward the bed. She screamed and thrashed. He fisted a larger handful of her hair and jerked her onto blankets smelling of body odor, piss, and stale cigarette smoke. He released her hair only to slap her face. Blood spurted from her bottom lip, where his wedding ring had impacted with her face.

  Lynden started clawing him. Screaming for help. Tears rolled down her face in terror. Hands, soft yet firm, gripped hers and shackled them to the bed.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed.

  “Lyn, it is me,” a familiar voice half-whispered. “I would never hurt you.” It was a sound of safety. The fight fled her system and her body melted into the covers beneath her as she went limp. The shackles released. She opened her eyes through the tears and attempted to focus on the image sitting on the edge of the bed. “May I hold you?” the voice asked. “Only to comfort, nothing more.” She loved this voice. Loved the way he embraced her in a cocoon of protection with mere words. “I shall respect your need for space, if so desired.”

  “Y-y-yes,” she somehow got out. “Hold me.” Her focus sharpened and Coal’s face filled her vision. Grief tightened his features, his skin pale. “God, I’m sorry. So sorry,” she said.

  “Shh ... there is nothing to be sorry for, my love,” he spoke into her hair. Her raging thoughts swayed to the ebb and flow of his pulse. “Do not add to your sorrows.”

  “I ruined our only day together until who knows when.”

  “Not you,” he said, pulling away. “Do not take blame for the actions of another.” The words echoed in the hollowness she felt in hearing them. She pressed her cheek to his chest and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Our day is not ruined, Lyn. I do not visit you for intimacies. I am in love with your soul, in love with you. I am content simply to exist in the same room as you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Stone walls shot up to dam the terrifying emotions hurtling toward her with his words. At the same time, disgust coated her skin until the feel of his body touching hers invoked millions of invisible insect legs to skitter and crawl over every exposed surface of her skin. Panic, followed by a shudder, ripped through her and she shoved him back, pushing her way to the opposite end of the bed. Clutching the sheets, she wrapped up in the soft cotton. Shame clothed around her instead.

  “Don’t touch me.” She swallowed back another sob. Averting her eyes, she softened her tone. “I mean, I need space. Just for a bit.”

  The words injured him, she knew. But he offered a tight, remorse-filled smile of understanding and said, “Of course.” Coal stood with a deep breath and began to dress. “Shall I make you tea?”

  “Sure.” Lynden forced a flicker of emotion, a hint that she was feeling better than she was. “That’d be great.”

  With an apology in his eyes, he bowed to her and left her bedroom. Behind the sorrow, however, was wrath. He burned with righteous fury. Not at her. Never with her. Always at him. Promises of destruction flickered in Coal’s dark, brown depths. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing she could do, either.

  Confusion slithered through her frenzied thoughts.

  Breathe, she reminded herself.

  Angry tears burned in her chest and she sucked in a large breath.

  The therapist, assigned by her mom, drilled into each session that the intensity behind her grief and trauma would subside with time.

  But the pain would never go away.

  After her assault, she felt nothing. The monster inside of her slept for months. Occasionally, she’d twinge with reminders. Faint, blurry memories that stirred when anyone demonstrated an intimidating show of anger. She’d cower and battle embarrassment, internally chanting her mantra: Thin air thoughts. Make your feelings invisible. Toughen up. I am awesome.

  Appeased, the monster continued to slumber.

  Then, with no warning, months after the incident and while enjoying the pleasure and comfort of Coal’s body, the monster awakened. Then like today, she had screamed, clawed, and thrashed. Red marks had lined Coal’s chest and arms where she had attacked him, blinded by her flashbacks. She had sobbed, for hours. He had held her when she needed his protection and had given her space when she needed to fight alone.

  He didn’t touch her intimately for several visits after that, keeping a respectful distance at all times. Ever the gentleman with care for her feelings. He had meant to be kind but, god, what an asshole move. For months she thought he had pulled away from her, too disgusted by the thought of touching someone who was damaged. Someone impure like her. Maybe if she were from his world, she would have better understood the honor behind his gesture. But she hadn’t. It had felt like polite rejection, as if he didn’t know how to break up with her. Nobody breaks up in New Eden. Then came another sickening thought: His honor demanded he remain bonded to her, even if she was unclean.

  It wasn’t true. She knew that now. But it played to her greatest fear.

  Like everything.

  Doubt lingered in the black spots of her mind.

  “Toughen up, Rainbow,” she whispered aloud. Throwing the covers aside, she lowered her feet to the floor and stood. Shadows laughed from the far corner of her room. Her eyes darted to the strip of darkness and she forced her face to become like stone. “Toughen up,” she whispered again. “You’re not allowed to hurt me and know it,” she grit between her teeth. “No pleasure from my pain.”

  With that, she turned her back to the shadows and dressed.

  In the kitchen, Coal stared right through the electric tea kettle. A muscle twitched in his jaw and a vein pulsed in his neck. He was a coiled snake ready to strike, his anger white-hot and dangerous. Running her fingers through her hair, she visualized herself as a cat—a mighty huntress, sleek, sexy, sinew and strength combined with grace and cunning. She removed all traces of the helpless, damaged, freckle-faced girl, and moved toward him.

  “Hey, Mr. Awesome.”

  He peered down the side of his shoulder, past her to an object just to her left. “The tea shall be ready shortly, My Lady.” His accent was thick and he winced with the use of formality.

  She flicked the long strands of unbound hair that fell over his eye. Still, he wouldn’t look her way. The anger rolled off of him in searing waves. Feeling timid, she choked out a bleak, “Thanks.”

  “Lyn...”

  “I’m fine. We’re fine.” She forced another small smile. “The episodes are becoming less common, right? That’s good.”

  He nodded his head and returned to his vigil over the kettle. She wrapped her arms around his neck, though her body screamed in revulsion—her mind still purging the filthy memories of his hands on her—and planted a chaste kiss on Coal’s cheek. The weather shook the wall of windows and his gaze shot over her shoulder, every muscle tight. A high-pitched whistle wound up to ear-shattering levels as steam blew from the kettle’s spout. Coal started, circling his arms around her in an act of protection, and moved her away from the perceived source of danger. Realizing his hyper-alpha-male-reaction, he rolled his eyes at himself and lifted a corner of his mouth.

  “My apologies,” he offered.

  “Nah, it was sexy.” She bumped his hip with hers. “My own personal action hero.”

  His mouth stretched in a charming grin, but he still refused to meet her eyes.

  The hot water poured into her unicorn mug in a flash of aromatic steam. Not a single drip of d
ried coffee tarnished the outer rim. Happy that her mug was cleansed from Mack’s germs, she allowed another small smile to fully form. Coal’s eyes flicked to her face for a nanosecond, before returning to his task.

  “I selected ‘Rainy Day’ tea.” He poured a cup for himself. “I thought a toast to the weather might lighten its mood.”

  “Flirting with rain clouds?”

  “Are we jealous?”

  The words were sportive. The delivery, however, was soft, uncertain, and tinged with flyaway embers of remnant anger. Still, the underlying question was unmistakable. Was she ready to play like nothing had ever happened? Like everything was normal between them?

  Keeping her face bland, she sighed, “Oh please.” Lynden ended by rolling her eyes as she slinked past him toward the living room, the unicorn mug snug and warm in her hands.

  “Ah, the lady is jealous.” Coal eased next to her on the kotatsu, ensuring ample space. Dimples appeared as he studied his own mug, and her pulse stumbled a beat. That smile was all kinds of dangerous, and he knew it. “I shall pretend otherwise as to not offend your sensibilities,” he mocked in a thicker accent.

  It worked. She opened her mouth to share just how much her “sensibilities” were offended by his male pride when he blinked slowly and lifted his gaze, as if overcome by the wild, snapping look he suspected existed in her eyes in the wake of his comment. And, like that, she was properly disarmed.

  Damn him.

  And damn every girlish sensibility.

  Seizing her surprise, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “Tu es plus belle que toutes les étoiles dans le ciel nocturne. Tellement, que je fais tous les voeux de mon coeur en ton nom.”

  Now it was her turn to blink slowly, overcome. Dammit.

  “What did you say?”

  “I professed my love for the night sky, to make the rain clouds jealous.”

  Lynden snorted a laugh and his smile grew. “You’re so full of shit.”

  “Moi?” Coal leaned back, creating space once more, and sipped on his tea. “No, Mademoiselle. I am but your devoted servant.”

  She dropped her gaze to her mug, nibbling on her lip ring. After a few seconds, she quietly asked, “What time is it?”

  “Near time to meet your parents for dinner.”

  She groaned again. “Where?”

  “The new restaurant along Lake Union.”

  “I should probably change.”

  She started to stand but Coal softly gripped her hand. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist and she shivered with ... pleasure. The revulsion had departed. Tears pricked her eyes and she lifted her gaze to the ceiling to hide her unexpected emotion.

  “Please,” he began in a half-whisper, “I am rather fond of this outfit. I shall resort to begging if necessary.”

  “God, you really are like a dog,” she tossed out playfully in reply. “Begging? Really?”

  “On hands and knees, if it pleases you.”

  “Barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Awesome. I’m not the swooning type.”

  Those damn dimples appeared again. He sent a look declaring how she was full of shit, and stood up. Normally he offered his hand, but the smart-ass waltzed by her with every ounce of masculine charm he possessed and swaggered into the kitchen to return their mugs. He wanted her to watch, to appreciate him, to grow faint with his show of virility.

  “Shall we?” he asked, back turned.

  Damn him again.

  “Oh sorry. Was I supposed to faint or something?”

  “Naturally.”

  Lynden suppressed a laugh and hit the elevator button. Lifting her eyebrow, she slipped him a mischievous look. He wanted to be playful? Good. It worked for her, too. Anything to escape the memories of this afternoon.

  In her mind, the ground rumbled and split open revealing the edge into a dark abyss. The shadows were always calling to her. Laughing at her. The familiar strains of loneliness flared under their torment. Drawing in a deep breath, she screamed to the black, “You’re not allowed to hurt me and know it!” Her voice echoed off the earthen walls and whispered back, “Be free. Be fearless.”

  Ugly. Unwanted. Whore. Dumb. Freak.

  Not good enough.

  “I am awesome,” she murmured under her breath, twisting the ring on her thumb.

  The elevator doors opened and Coal gestured for her to enter. Instead of walking ahead of him, she leapt onto his back with a triumphant laugh. The shadows shriveled into the earth with angry shrieks as the abyss closed. Layers of oppression lifted and, for a blink of time, her heart floated in zero gravity.

  Coal secured her legs around his waist, flashing a grin. The rascally kind. Oh shit. From a squatting position, he jumped toward the elevator’s glass walls now shaded in stormy hues of the indigo night. She squealed when he landed with a thunderous bang, unable to contain the laugh that followed. The doors closed and she rested her chin on his shoulder.

  Coal turned his head until his cheek touched hers. “I love you, Lyn.”

  She nuzzled closer and buried her face into his neck, studying their reflection in the glass. The elevator began to lower and they fell through the night. His gaze collided with hers in the glass and the air in her lungs stirred, leaving in a fluttered rush of butterfly wings.

  Be free.

  “You set my heart on fire,” he added, his voice breathy.

  Be fearless.

  “I love you, too.”

  Lynden nibbled on her lip ring while aimlessly pushing shrimp through rivers of citrus-infused butter sauce. Her dad held Coal’s attention most of the evening, regaling them with story after story of his adventures in Antarctica, Africa, and other places around the globe. Cool and collected for someone just arriving back from Japan this morning, her mom savored dainty bites of salad and steamed vegetables. At times, her dad would ask her mom to confirm details or share a related story.

  Curious eyes in the restaurant watched their table. To spectators, her family probably looked happy. Maybe even normal. Families celebrated each other’s birthdays together, right? But, the hidden dysfunction churned in her soul. Lowering her fork, she stared out the window. Lake Union rippled under the magic of the night sky. Bright, flashing holographic advertisements shimmered on the surface in a pinwheel stream of colors. Rain fell in a fine mist, a gentle caress compared to the beating drops which had pounded rooftops and windows earlier in the day.

  “Ms. Nichols, may I take your plate?” a waiter asked her.

  The conversation halted as everyone at the table awaited her answer. “Yes, please,” she said softly. The waiter nodded his head and removed her barely eaten plate. Her dad continued without missing a beat and Lynden resumed her wistful observations out the window.

  “Lyn,” her mom said, leaning toward her. “Are you feeling ill?”

  She gave her head a faint shake, eyes fixed on the undulating water.

  “If you need to talk, I’ll listen.”

  “About what?”

  Her mom’s hand landed on Lynden’s knee under the table. “Anything you desire.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  The hand moved back to her mom’s lap. “I understand.”

  Lynden forced every emotion to flee from her face.

  “Life is not always—”

  “Della,” Hanley interjected, “I trust your visit to Japan was successful?”

  Her mom issued Lynden an apologetic frown then turned a seductive gaze onto her husband. The same hand that had touched Lynden’s knee, lifted and casually brushed black strands of hair from her shoulder. Her mom’s nails were perfectly shaped and painted a deep burgundy. They were unlike those of Lynden, who couldn’t stand salons, the catty talk of women, the demeaning stares, or the competition to be considered the most beautiful female to grace the other less fortunate women with her perfect looks. The kind that inspired men to fight wars and carve Vensuses out of marble. Gag.

  Eventually, her mom’s voice came back into focus and she bl
inked away her disgruntled thoughts.

  “...wedding plans were finalized for June of next year.”

  “What?!”

  Lynden didn’t mean to blurt out her question. Horror, however, demanded a price.

  Her mom softened her tone. “Fillion’s studies should be complete by August if he enrolls for summer semester.”

  “He will.” Hanley sipped on a glass of wine, tipping his head for her mom to continue.

  “Your father’s business schedule is demanding next year. He wishes for Fillion to join him on a world tour before trust maturity.”

  Lynden just got her brother back. The thought of him being carted around the world to be showcased and then married off soured what little food rolled around in her stomach. “I was wrong. I guess I don’t feel too well.”

  Coal pushed his chair back. “May I accompany you outside for fresh air?”

  “Sit down, Coal. She’ll be fine,” her dad said. To Lynden, he added, “You’re making a scene.”

  She smiled with ill-humor while shaking her head in disbelief. Fine. She’d return to the meek little mouse who ate her food in silence and didn’t interrupt the conversation with her childishness.

  When Coal returned to his seat, Hanley continued. “You related that no expense is to be spared for Fillion and Akiko’s wedding?”

  “Yes, of course,” Della answered. “Ms. Hirabayashi shares this opinion as well.”