by M. Leighton
“Not the one to my room.”
At first I was confused, looking about the small space at the only two doors that occupied the walls. One led out into the hallway, like every other dorm room on the hall. The other led to Lady Sheelah’s room, the handler who had been stationed next to me via an adjoining door so she could better ensure my safety.
My mouth dropped open and my pulse quickened as understanding dawned.
“Your room? They’re giving you Lady Sheelah’s room?”
A smug smirk tipped one side of Jackson’s mouth. “You’re looking at your new Resident Advisor.”
“But- but that’s- that’s—”
“That’s the best way to keep you safe? You are exactly right.”
“But you- they can’t- you’re a-a—”
“Right again. I’m the most capable Sentinel on dry land,” he said, his grin illustrating just how much he was enjoying my discomfort and what he undoubtedly perceived as his victory.
Aggravated, my hackles rose and I struck back.
“If they wanted a man to protect me, why couldn’t they have just moved Aidan down here?”
I knew by the muscle that ticked in Jackson’s jaw that my barb had struck home. It was fairly obvious that he didn’t like Aidan.
“What good would that do you? He can barely take care of himself. The High Council didn’t want someone next door who could share gossip and paint your toenails.”
I blushed, all too aware that Aidan hadn’t exactly shown a tremendous amount of spine. But, nevertheless, I rushed to his defense.
“Aidan would be able to defend me and take care of me just fine. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be my mate.”
“He’s not your mate yet,” Jackson ground out.
“He will be soon enough. I can feel our tie getting stronger every day. It’s going to materialize very soon. I can tell,” I shot back confidently, despite the fact that it was an outright lie. Aidan felt like a brother as much as ever.
“Well, until he magically morphs into something he’s obviously not, you’ll just have to suck it up and make do with me.”
Jackson turned and strode to the door that adjoined my room to the one he was to occupy. He turned with his hand on the knob and pinned me with his hard stare.
“And under no circumstances are you to lock this door.”
With that, he disappeared into the neighboring room, pulling the door quietly shut behind him.
Already, my room felt cooler and starkly empty without his presence, which set my teeth on edge. I cursed the fates for the residue of a childhood crush that had suddenly come back to make my life miserable.
I don’t know how long I stood in that spot in front of the window. A long time evidently, because when I turned back, Jersey was asleep on her bed with a book in her lap, her ear buds in and her mouth hanging open.
As I looked at her, so pretty in repose and looking so much like her brother with her black hair and bronze skin, I thought of him…again…and remembered that he hadn’t told me what the Seers had discovered about Lady Sheelah’s death.
Seers are apparitions that can simultaneously peer into the spirit world of the past, present and future. As a gift from God to the angel Neptune, they are chained to the Mer and are invaluable in cases such as a death, though they haven’t been employed for that purpose in many, many years. They can also be used by the Warden Major for decision-making purposes.
Opening myself up to the anger that I felt as a result of the situation—anything that might keep me from feeling weak in the knees and distracted by Jackson—I let it flood me before I took a deep breath and trudged across the room.
I flung wide the adjoining door. But before I could even open my mouth to speak, Jackson, evidently on guard at all times, was already on his feet and standing right in front of me with a poison-tipped stake in each hand.
He startled me so that my heart jumped up into my throat, effectively smothering my anger. I stared up into his vivid blue eyes and watched the fight leave them as he realized that I was no threat.
For one sizzling moment, it seemed that something electric passed between us. It was as if the energy of fate crackled between us, arcing from my body to his and back again. I could feel it in every water-filled cell of my being and I could see it in the erratic rise and fall of Jackson’s chest. But when he took a large step back, it disappeared, leaving me to wonder if I’d only imagined it.
On the heels of his hyper-alert, battle-ready state came a distantly chilly look that settled down over his features like an enigmatic mask. Casually, he turned his back on me and walked to his bed, where he’d apparently been lying as he read a monstrously thick and old book.
“What do you want?” he asked curtly, not even bothering to look back at me.
Once my airways returned to their normal, fully-functional state, I let out the breath I’d been holding, scrambling to remember why I’d come. I was slow to recover any thought that didn’t involve Jackson’s muscular shoulders and narrow waist, as they were so becomingly accentuated by his snug black tanktop.
“Um, I, uh,” I paused to blink and take a deep breath, straining to focus on something other than Jackson. “I was wondering what the Seers discovered. You didn’t say and Commander Jessup assured me that he’d let me know.”
I added the last so that Jackson wouldn’t pull some kind of you don’t need to know crap.
“I’m sure he’ll let you know as soon as they get their answers.”
“So you don’t even know yet?”
Jackson faced me. I made a point of keeping my eyes focused sharply on his face, refusing to look below the cleft in his strong chin.
“No. I’ve been here all night and haven’t heard a word.”
I nodded. I looked once more to the bed, to the book that lay there. I walked to it, flopping down on the rumpled bedspread and nudging the book with my knuckles.
“What’s this you’re reading?”
Jackson swept the book from the covers.
“Get off my bed,” he said, unwilling to meet my eyes. He held the book at the end of his stick-straight arm, as if to say Come and get it.
Stung a little by his abruptness and his obvious distaste for me, I tried to act casual even though I suddenly felt near tears for some reason.
Obligingly, I scooted off his bed and stepped forward to take the book, steeling myself against the urge to run back to my room and hide away to lick my wounds. Forever.
“What is it?” I asked again.
“The old law.”
“Why are you reading this?”
“Because, Princess, as the Sentinel assigned to you, it’s my job to know exactly what your role in returning the Lore to prison entails.”
“Shouldn’t I be reading this, too? I mean, it sure sounds like something I should know. Why don’t I?”
“This is all stuff that you would’ve been taught with your betrothed after your internship in Slumber. No one could’ve foreseen your need for the knowledge now. It’s not something they teach just anybody.”
Ignoring the scathing way he said betrothed, I added stiffly, “Well, maybe they should start.”
“Oh, I assure you that will be taken care of once this crisis is averted.”
Thoughts of my parents and my sister, their safety, the security of Atlas, the wellbeing of all the descendants and humans on dry land—all of it started clamoring about inside my head, bringing with it the true weight of what responsibility had fallen to me.
Raising my eyes to Jackson’s, I couldn’t keep the emotion from spilling over.
“Jackson, what if I fail?”
Cobalt eyes searched mine and I saw a softening—ever-so-slight though it was—in the glittering depths.
“I won’t let you fail.”
My heart soared at all that those words seemed to convey, at what they said to me beyond what they meant at face value.
“You would do that for me?” I whispered, caught up in the moment.
Jackson’s eyes bored deeply into mine. His lips parted as if he was about to say one thing, but I saw the change of his mind an instant before he looked away to answer with a very militaristic, “It’s my job.”
“Of course. Of course it is,” I said automatically, though I felt inordinately crushed by his response.
Wounded, I turned back toward the door, reminding myself that it didn’t matter what Jackson thought or did or how he felt about me. We had a job to do. Period.
“Well,” I said, turning to look at Jackson over my shoulder. “I’m going to call Aidan and then get to bed. See you later.”
Just before I slipped through to my room, I saw the tell-tale tick of the muscle in Jackson’s jaw. Pushing the door shut behind me, I leaned quietly up against it until my chest stopped aching.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day, I was determined to go about my normal routine, despite the fact that it seemed like an impossible task when my thoughts kept straying to Jackson. I caught myself worrying more about my hair than usual and taking extra care with my makeup, all with visions of Jackson swirling through my head.
Even though it bugged me to no end that he seemed immune to and even irritated by my presence (not to mention that it hurt me more than a little), I couldn’t seem to get him out of my mind.
It didn’t help that I hadn’t slept well. I’d glanced at the door that separated us a thousand times, all too aware of a sleeping Jackson lying only a few feet from my bed. I’d been able to recall with perfect clarity the scent that had wafted up from Jackson’s covers when I’d sat on his bed, how warm the spot where he’d lain had been. I had no trouble imagining the excitement I’d feel if I looked up from such an intimate place to see his breathtaking eyes staring down at me—wanting me, needing me.
Each time I’d awakened and been unable to fall right back to sleep, I’d purposely steered my mind toward Aidan and how I’d one day feel consumed by him, drawn to him like no other. But within minutes, I’d find that Aidan’s face was replaced by Jackson’s and my fantasy was centered around Jackson’s hands and lips rather than Aidan’s.
As a result, that morning I was feeling snarky and grouchy, and Jersey was not the only one to notice.
When I flung my book bag down in the floor beside my desk, it grabbed the attention of Aidan who sat just behind me in Mrs. Kinkaid’s Advanced Biology class.
“Dang, James, who peed in your Frosted Flakes?”
I turned my flashing eyes on Aidan, ready to admit that it was Jackson, but rational thought stepped in before I could utter the words. I knew I wouldn’t want to answer the questions that would inevitably follow such a confession.
“I’m just tired. You’d do well to give me lots of space today, Aidan.”
“Ooo, is that a threat? ‘Cause, you know, nothing turns me on more than a girl with an attitude.”
I looked into Aidan’s hazel eyes. I usually ignored comments like that, chalking them up to his continual teasing. But today, I looked—really looked—into them and, sure enough, I saw the warm flicker of attraction.
How had I not noticed that before? I had been looking so hard for it, waiting so long for it, dreaming so often about it, how could I have missed it?
Silently, as Aidan watched me with what I now recognized as blatant appreciation in his eyes, I searched my own heart, my own body, for some kind of complementary reaction. I hoped desperately to find something inside me to mirror his feelings.
But, alas, it was with an abysmal honesty that I admitted to myself that I felt nothing, nothing but the same brotherly affection I’d had for Aidan all my life. And for the first time since I was a starry-eyed pre-adolescent, I began to doubt the strength and even the existence of the mating tie.
I was cerebrum-deep in those morose thoughts when a familiar velvety voice interrupted my musings.
“I need to see Madly James,” it said to Mrs. Kinkaid.
Aidan leaned past me to look toward the front of the room. I stayed exactly where I was. I had no need to turn around. I didn’t need to see him to know that it was Jackson that I’d heard. His voice had bounced around inside my heart like a lonely ghost since I’d heard it for the first time in nearly three years.
I sighed. I never would have imagined how much could change in such a relatively short amount of time.
“Madly, your new R.A. needs to see you,” Mrs. Kinkaid announced, as if we hadn’t all just heard as much.
Without a word, I turned, closed my book and straightened my desk before scooting from my seat, determined to avoid Jackson’s gaze for as long as I could.
“Bring your bag,” Jackson added. “You probably won’t be back to class.”
At that, I looked up at Jackson. His eyes gave away nothing. He was the perfect, poker-faced soldier. Mrs. Kinkaid, on the other hand, seemed a bit surprised by his admission, though she made no comment.
Grabbing my bag from the floor, I was turning toward the front of the room when Aidan caught my arm.
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, his eyes sweetly concerned.
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Nah. It’s probably nothing, but thanks.”
Though he let go of my arm, Aidan still didn’t look comfortable with me going alone.
His concern was so touching and so reassuring, and his feelings were so obvious at that moment, I leaned down and touched my lips to his cheek. As I pulled away, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that the contact didn’t stir anything more than a friendly affection in me.
“What was that for?”
I thought of a thousand responses, but uttered only one.
“For being so good to me.”
“Ah, nothing to it,” he said, waving me off.
Aidan’s lips curved into a casual grin, but it was his eyes that belied how truly affected he was by my spontaneous display.
I turned to make my way to the front of class and I nearly stumbled, my gait faltering, when I looked up and met Jackson’s glittering blue eyes. They flashed with anger.
Before I even reached him, he spun on his heel and walked out of the room. I followed along behind him, mystified.
When we’d emptied into the hall and it didn’t seem that Jackson was going to slow down, I scrambled to keep up with his long-legged stride.
“Jackson, slow down. Where are we going?” I asked from several steps behind.
“Commander Jessup has some information for you,” he said brusquely.
I wanted to shout, What is your problem? But I did not. I decided to go with a more passive-aggressive approach.
I slowed to a pace more comfortable for me, absolutely refusing to run just to keep up with him. He was supposed to be watching out for me. He’s the one who claimed that it was necessary. If he left me behind, that was his own fault. I wasn’t going to make it all the easier for him.
After we’d walked for a few minutes and I was falling further and further behind, Jackson finally slowed. Without looking back, he managed to let me get within a few strides of him and then maintained that pace until we got to the brick building that housed Transport.
We were both quiet in the elevator, each simmering in our own angry juices, though I had no idea what he had to be angry about, any more than I understood his sudden aversion to me.
Shaking off those thoughts, I concentrated on what was to come, praying that Jessup would have some helpful news, if not downright good news.
When the doors opened to the operations center this time, at least there was less chaos, which made me feel marginally better. Commander Jessup was close to the elevator, obviously waiting for us, which made me a little uneasy.
“Princess,” he greeted, bowing deeply from his waist.
Strangely, that gesture—the dramatic, very pronounced nature of it—made me feel suddenly panicky. It was as if he was recognizing me in a position that I didn’t occupy, that I had no right to and had no desire to fill—that of Warden Major or Warden
Queen. That type of generous genuflection was reserved for the highest powers of the sea, for Mer like my parents, not for me.
To my heart, it felt as if he were giving up on their survival, acknowledging that I was the new ruler. And I didn’t like it.
“Please, Commander Jessup, I am only the child of royalty. I am in no way deserving of such respect and I would appreciate your adherence to those customs previously established for our interaction. My parents are not dead, nor will they be for quite some time.”
I tried to keep the sharpness from my voice, but the flush of color that spread up Jessup’s neck said that I’d more than clearly made my point. I had no wish to embarrass him in front of his subordinates, but I didn’t want them to make the same mistake. I couldn’t handle that. It was like admitting that there was no hope, something that I refused to consider.
