Then, it’ll be just one more loss we’ll both have to endure.
I make it home before my parents, and barely manage to wash the dishes I’d left out and make them breakfast before they come in the door.
“Oh, you’re up early,” Mom says with a smile when she sees me.
Filled with relief, I rush over and throw my arms around her. I’m happy I made it home safe and to see Mom’s smiling face. “Hi, Mom,” I say. “I’ve really missed you.” And it’s true. With them working the night shift lately, and all that’s been going on, it feels like a lifetime since the normal days before Darian’s escape and my pre-binding ceremony.
Dad clears his throat. “What about me, sweet face?” he asks, grinning.
I laugh and hug him too. “You, too, Dad.”
“What’s that smell?” he asks.
I fan my hand through the air, ushering them into the kitchen. “I made you bacon and eggs!”
Mom slips out of her shoes and follows me across the room to the kitchen. “What’s this about?” She grins at me as I take a sip of orange juice. “Are you in trouble or hiding something?” She cocks a brow.
I nearly spit out my O.J. and place it down, pounding my chest. When I can finally breathe normally again, I ask, “Can’t a girl do something nice for her parents?”
Dad snatches a piece of bacon and chomps it down. “Absolutely,” he mumbles.
I take in a big breath. “But now that you mention it,” I say slowly. “There is one thing.”
Mom holds up a finger. “I knew there was a catch!” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, laughing.
I take a seat at the table beside my dad as Mom rummages around in the fridge. “No, seriously,” I say. “It’s nothing much…just if I need to talk to you, I’m asking that you’ll keep an open mind…”
Mom twists around and closes the fridge door, her face growing serious. “What’s this about, Desiree?”
Great. “Nothing, Mom.”
Nothing yet anyway.
“But see? You always get so serious when I want to talk.” I shake my head. “But anyway, it’s nothing right now. Never mind.”
Dad frowns at Mom, then reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Sorry you’ve been by yourself so much lately. I know when we work the night shift it must get lonely for you. And if you ever need to talk, we’ll make time, you know that. We love you, sweet face.”
He lifts his head and raises his eyebrows at Mom. “Right, dear?”
She sighs. “Of course we love her.” She looks away from Dad, and casts soft eyes on me. “You, Desiree. We love you. I just worry about you and your happiness.”
She stands behind me and pulls my hair back off my shoulders before leaning over and kissing my cheek. “I’m off to bed, but whenever you need to talk, you let us know, okay? Whatever it is, we’ll work it out. There isn’t any problem that doesn’t have a solution.”
I’m not sure she’s going to think that when I drop the bomb about The Protectorate on her, but I make a mental note to remind her of her own words when the time comes.
After my parents are asleep, I quickly shower and throw on a pair of turquoise jeans and a yellow top before heading out to meet Darian. Asher was right. Today is unseasonably warm and actually feels like a spring day.
I rush all the way to the Sky Tram Port, my legs pounding the pedals. My mind races, wondering if Darian got the information we need and thinking about how strange it is that I miss him already. Just thinking about Darian makes me feel warm inside…even his cocky attitude has grown on me.
For the first time ever, I make it somewhere before Darian. I lean against the tree where he normally waits for me, and every horrible thought imaginable races through my head. Has he been caught? What if Jameson was lying and there are no Awakened, and I’m forced to marry Asher and pretend everything is okay?
I slump to the ground and lean against the tree, counting every colorful leaf on the forest floor I can see—anything to occupy myself. The sun beams through the trees and even though I’m shaded, I’m still hot—partly from the bike ride to the Sky Tram Port, partly because of the warm temperature, but mostly because my adrenaline is pumping madly. I run my fingers back through my hair, and my heart rate ratchets to new levels.
Finally, I can’t take it, and I race to the lake on the chance that Darian headed down there without me.
No Darian.
I check the tree house and still come up empty-handed.
Frustrated and starting to panic, I rush back up the hill, deciding that if Darian isn’t here in another fifteen minutes, I’m going to the Shimmering Mist, finding this guy Jameson, and asking questions.
When I reach the top of the hill again, Darian is casually leaning against the tree. I let out a strangled sigh of relief.
“You’re late,” he says, giving me one of his incredible, crooked smiles.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I say and lunge at him, giving him a light punch in the arm. “I’ve been here a while.”
He tugs me into him, playfully nibbling my neck. “You’re looking colorful today,” he says softly.
“I’ve always liked lots of color.”
“Mmhmm, you have.” He drags his teeth lightly against my earlobe. “And I think you owe me again,” he says seductively.
I pull back, eyes wide. “Did you get the information?”
He runs his fingers back through my hair, grins, then pulls me back against him. “I always deliver, babes. Of course I did.”
I laugh. “You’re in a good mood, dragon,” I say. “Tell me what happened.”
“We’re outta here tomorrow,” he says, slipping his hand into mine and leading me down the hill toward the lake. “Jameson was blown away by the information I had on the flash drive. And not only did he give me the location of the nearest Awakened cell, but they want me to work with them—you know—use my amazing hacking skills to help bring The Protectorate down.” He grins. “They’re going to set me up with the equipment I need and I’ll be part of the plan to make this happen…and, of course, you and your parents are coming with me.” His lips spread into a wide smile.
Darian is so excited…and so badass…I can’t help but smile, too. He gazes at the lake that’s glistening under the warm sunlight. A grin slides across his lips, and then he tugs his shirt over his head. Shucking off his jeans, he tosses them aside, too.
“Swim?” he asks, eyes flaring in a dare.
I stare at him, trying not to gape. He’s a mass of solid muscle from head to toe, and his boxer briefs leave very little to my imagination.
I’m about to turn around, but then decide against it at the last second. He’s just too much eye candy to ignore.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks, giving me a steady gaze.
“Are you crazy? Even though it’s warm today, that water will still be freezing!”
He tips his head back and laughs, deep and throaty. “Chicken.”
It’s the same word, the same tone, he used on me as kids.
I snort and, even though my cheeks are blushing red, I strip down to my bra and panties.
Darian pauses and I can feel his eyes raking over my body. My cheeks feel like they’re about to spontaneously combust. Nobody except my mom has ever seen me in my underwear.
Unable to take the scrutiny another second, I dash into the water. Not only will it make me look not chicken, but it will also give me some cover.
He rushes in behind me and I squeal from the bitter cold water that shocks my system.
Before I get too far he grabs me from behind, wraps his arms around my waist, and spins me around to face him.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says, lifting me up into his arms as though I’m made of air. I wrap my legs around his waist, realizing the way I’ve felt so gangly all of my life doesn’t seem to exist around him. He’s so tall, muscular, and strong that I actually feel small in his arms.
“Kiss me,” he whispers, and I do without anoth
er word.
His mouth is on mine, until I feel like I can’t breathe. He holds me up easily with one arm and, with the other, he traces small circles on my back and lightly tugs the ends of my hair. A low growl works its way from the back of his throat, and I run my fingers across his buzzed hair, and deepen our kiss.
He moves forward through the water until he’s chest deep, the water lapping in little ripples around his shoulders. I shiver from the thrill of his kiss, and from the cold water touching bare skin.
A flock of birds suddenly darts into the sky, their calls and fluttering of wings pulling us out of the kiss.
I jump, a tiny little movement, but at first I’m still too dazed from Darian’s luscious lips to pay attention.
It’s the crackling and popping sounds that finally bring me back to reality.
When I look up, billows of smoke, ash, and fire fill the sky—worse, it’s coming from the direction of the tree house.
“Dammit!” yells Darian, putting me back down on my feet.
Fear springs inside of me so quickly that I get dizzy.
Before we can move, several men rush from out of the trees into the clearing.
Right in front of the lake.
One man has long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. I instantly recognize him as Richards…the man who murdered Darian’s parents. He limps forward, then picks up my jeans and dangles them in the air from one of the belt loops. “Get out,” he snaps. “Now.”
Several more men wearing the charcoal-gray uniform of The Protectorate approach and flank him. A sinking feeling washes over me, intensifying when I notice that slung beneath one of the official’s arm is my painting of the colony of bats spewing out from The Protectorate’s Empire.
And just when I think it can’t get any worse, I recognize one of the officials’ scowling faces.
Asher.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A sense of dread washes over me. My stomach clenches as though I’ve been kicked, nearly doubling me over. Everything is a spinning distortion of color—blinding dizziness. I never imagined myself trapped in such a horrible situation, yet here I am caught with a convicted murderer—in my underwear—with my binding mate glaring at me like I’m some sort of tramp.
“Desiree, I need you to listen to me,” Darian whispers, drawing my attention away from Asher’s cold stare. “When I get out of the water, there will be a fight. I need you to promise me that you’ll run—and that you won’t look back.”
He doesn’t need to tell me there’ll be a fight. There are five men standing by the lake, including Asher. And even though Darian is about 6’3” and packing tons of muscle, I know he isn’t a match for five men.
“Get out now!” Richards yells again, before nodding to one of the men beside him. The guy steps into the water.
“Darian,” I whisper, voice breaking, “I don’t want to leave you.”
He grips my shoulders and shakes me slightly. “This isn’t a question, Rae. I’m telling you to leave. I want you to go to the Shimmering Mist, find Jameson, and tell him what happened. Then go to the Awakened cell.”
“I-I can’t just leave you. I won’t.”
“Yes. You. Will,” he bites out each word, and I wince. His expression softens. “Do it for me,” he says, and gives me a tiny smile. “You get there, and I’ll find a way to break out somehow like I did before. I promise I’ll find you.”
My eyes grow wide at the thought of leaving him to face these men while I run off half-naked and alone. It also hits me that there’s a very real possibility they won’t bring him back to the Terrorscape at all. Maybe they’ll kill him. As fast as the thought comes to me, I shove it aside, not allowing the fear to grip me anymore. My gaze falls on his beautiful features, his jaw now locked, as he waits for my response. I realize he won’t take no for an answer. It’s pointless to try. I slide my fingers along the scar running down his neck, swallow back the lump in my throat, and nod. I have to hope he’ll get away, make it back to me somehow.
The moment I do, Darian rushes through the water with a loud growl, unnatural and frightening.
The guy who took a couple of steps into the lake stumbles back, looking surprised.
Darian quickly makes it to the shore, grabs a rock, and smashes it against the guy’s jaw. Tugging the guy in front of him, Darian then holds him in a firm headlock. “Don’t move or his brains will get an early morning bath,” Darian shouts to the other men.
Richards holds his hands up defensively. Taking advantage of their moment of distraction, I sink low in the lake and move forward, veering off toward the left, and away from them.
Asher’s gaze meets mine. He begins moving toward me, lips tight.
“I’ll kill him!” Darian yells, and Asher snaps his head toward Darian.
“You need to calm down,” Richards says, limping forward a step.
I obviously hurt him when the car hit him, but right about now—like Darian—I wish I’d killed him.
“Calm down?” Darian snaps. “You killed my parents and framed me, you coward. You ruined my life!”
“You’re a One,” Richards taunts with a laugh. “You don’t have much of a life left anyway.”
I make it to the edge of the lake several feet away from them and step out as quietly as I can. I shiver from a mixture of fear and the cold air brushing against my wet, bare skin.
Flames lick the sky in the distance. Scorching, popping beams of reds and oranges suck away our tree house—our memories—and I realize that they, The Protectorate, steal everything. Even the simplest, most innocent things like a tree house in the woods can be ripped away, because they want to fill us only with their dreams.
“You and your parents were sticking your noses where they didn’t belong,” Richards’s rough voice breaks in. “You have no right—”
“You have no right!” Darian shouts, cutting him off, his face growing red. “The Dreamscape is just a way to brainwash everybody into believing the verbal diarrhea you Protectorate spew. It’s not meant to help us sleep better,” he scoffs. “It gives subliminal messages, Richards, and you know it. Except that shit doesn’t work on me. And you know that, too. And that’s why I’m used as the poster boy of Noncompliance—to scare the hell out of anyone who dares to stand up against you.”
Richards lunges toward Darian as I reach the tree line and, from what I can see, so do the other men. Darian throws a punch, hitting Richards in the face.
Then I’m running, not looking back, remembering my promise to go to the Shimmering Mist, find Jameson, and get to the Awakened.
Tears stream down my face as I dash through the woods, torn between escaping and leaving Darian to fend for himself. Branches scratch my bare skin, and loose stones and debris scrape at the soles of my feet.
More yelling erupts from behind me, but I can’t quite make out the words.
Then, a loud, painful shriek.
Instinctively, I know it’s Darian.
I freeze. My blood turns to ice and everything in me wants to turn back.
Suddenly, there’s rustling in the bushes behind me, growing louder, closer. The cracking of a twig sends me running again, fueled by fear. Running so fast that leaves, branches, and twigs become a blur, until I barely feel the ground beneath my feet, and I’m panting for breath.
There’s movement closer behind me now—so close I know somebody is gaining on me—somebody stronger, faster.
Hunting me.
I twist around and catch a glimpse of the sole of a boot just before it’s thrust into my back.
Shooting pain like fire lances up my spine as I’m flung forward and fall, my face hitting the dirt.
Gritting my teeth, I scramble to my knees and force myself to move through the pain.
Another blow of a booted foot knocks me down again. Someone presses his knee into the base of my spine, yanks my arms behind my back, and handcuffs my wrists.
I angle my head so that my face is turned up as I hear more shuffling in t
he woods behind me. Whoever hunted me down holds me there silently, ignoring my pleas for release. It’s at least ten minutes before Richards limps forward.
“I’ll take it from here, Jake,” he tells the man who handcuffed me. “Go back and help the others with Darian.”
When Jake leaves, Richards kneels and presses one knee into my lower back. “Your friend Laken said you’ve not been yourself lately—that you’ve been confused and need help,” he taunts.
I gasp as the realization of what Laken did hits me like razor blades. Richards stares at me with deep-set green eyes, his long, dark ponytail dangling around one side of his shoulder.
“And it seems, Miss Haven, that you were recently scanned on the very tram where an escaped convict got away.”
He stands, using my body as leverage, and the painful pressure makes me grunt. I try to stand up somehow and face my attacker, but he plants a foot on my back, rendering me helpless.
“At that incident on the tram,” he continues, “you behaved suspiciously. Then last night, oh so coincidentally, some unknown person helped the murderer—Darian—escape yet again.”
“Darian’s not a murderer!” I snap.
He lifts his foot off my back and kicks my side. Hard. The sound of what I assume is a rib cracking is muted by my screams.
“She thinks,” he continues in a calm voice, “that maybe you’re stressed out and need a doctor.” He laughs. “I, on the other hand, think you need to find out what a run in the Terrorscape feels like.” He presses a foot between my shoulder blades. “You Noncompliant bitch.”
With a grunt, he then prods my ankle with something cold and hard. He runs the object up the soles of my feet and my bare legs. Then, with a guttural laugh, he twists it, grinding it into the back of my hamstring.
I scream again, squirming, feeling humiliated and angry. Then slowly he slithers the object up my back and across my cheek.
I kick back hard, landing my foot against his knee. My broken rib sends a shock of piercing pain through me. “Get away from me!”
Awakening Page 20
