Chapter 16
Yeah, I'm Still Here
Lena
I'd never seen Trent as vulnerable as he was now. When he'd dosed up on Serenity for the celebration ball I'd missed the immediate drugging effect. He'd walked into the tech room at Tehteh several hours later only slightly impaired.
But this? Now. He was just like any other person, subject to the Overseers' whim.
I wasn't disappointed. It's not as though I thought him omnipotent. It made him more human. It made it easier to watch him and not feel embarrassed that I was. A most non-Elite-like behaviour.
I closed my eyes on that thought. I may have been born Elite, still acted Elite, but I was no longer Elite. I needed to let these constrictions imposed upon me go.
My eyes sprang open when I felt his hot hand slip into mine, fingers entwining, even in his drugged sleep. I stared at where he held me, gripped me, needing to pull away out of habit, wanting to enjoy the moment because I could.
Nature versus nurture. My upbringing won.
I stood up from the chair, even though I was exhausted and my shoulder still ached, and moved to the couch opposite. Which only placed me directly across from Trent's sleeping form and unable to look away. I stared for a long moment and then diverted my attention to the zebra painting on the wall.
This was getting out of hand. This... following I'd amassed. How many basements in apartment buildings were set up like this? How many people risking arrest and worse just to gather and talk about me? The responsibility, the guilt, was hefty.
I scrubbed two hands over my face and gave in to the exhaustion, lying down on my side and allowing my body to rest. Within seconds, I think, I'd drifted off. The night so wretched it destroyed me. Screams invading my dreams. Flashing red lights. Shiloh's High-Anglisc voice. Wang Chao. Wáikěiton.
I woke to the sound of an aerosol can being used.
I sat bolt upright, blinking back the harsh fluorescent light, and tried to focus on the man across from me. The words he'd written slowly becoming clear.
One Wánměi! Then my initials. S.C.
"What are you doing?" I practically screeched.
"Thanking them for their hospitality," Trent replied, recapping the spray can.
"With my initials?"
"You're their vision of freedom," Trent explained calmly, turning to look at me at last. "You're who they'll follow."
"I don't want them to follow me." The words were automatic, straight from my gut.
"Then what are you doing, Lena? What is this all about? You defied General Chew-wen on national television. You walk amongst the Citizens, eliminating the castes. You spurned the Chief Overseers' son. You're living with the rebels. Why?"
I shook my head, rising from the couch, my fists clenched, my heart pounding, anger suddenly coursing through my veins.
"I didn't ask for this. You're the leader."
"And I'll always be, if they'll have me. But that does not mean I'm the one with the power."
I stilled. Harjeet had said something similar. That I was in a unique position of power. But he'd also assumed the rebels were not aware of the gem they held. Trent had just proved the cunning D'awan wrong.
"So you're using me," I said, surprised to hear the disappointment in my tone. Alan had warned me. I shouldn't have been shocked.
Hurt.
Trent shook his head. A move that did not convince me of the upcoming lie. "Together we can do so much, Lena. Can't you see? I've been doing this my whole life, I was raised in the thick of rebellion. Groomed to lead. But you? In less than a week you stole into the hearts of a subservient nation. You gave them hope by openly questioning our world. You weren't cowed. You weren't complacent. You faced the Chief Overseer with defiance and honesty. You risked your life for two Citizens, sealing your fate.
"But it's not a bad fate, Zebra. It's noble. It's desperately needed. It's our only choice. Because answer me this: Do you want to go back to your Parnell apartment, sip champagne at inconsequential parties, rub shoulders with ineffectual Honourables who only demand respect because of law and not out of example? Do you want to be tied to the Chief Overseer forever, whilst you watch your fellow compatriots get slowly squashed under his heavy booted foot? Do you want that? Any of that?"
I stared at him, my chest still rising and falling too quickly. My heart heavy. My head spinning. My eyes open and seeing, and I wasn't sure I wanted them to be.
I knew things now. I knew things I couldn't pretend I didn't.
"No," I whispered. Trent let out a breath of air he'd obviously been holding, and then rubbed a hand through his hair messing it up.
"Then welcome to the revolution, Selena Carstairs," he announced, turning to look at the writing he'd sprayed across the bottom of the zebra. "Anything you want to add to this?"
I walked toward the image slowly, coming alongside his still frame. I stared at the stylised zebra, the One Wánměi slogan Trent had added. My initials. Did I want to add anything?
He held the can out to me, his hand steady, his face neutral as he waited for me to take it. I knew this was him testing me. Pushing me. Seeing how far I'd commit myself. It's easy to talk the talk, but to walk it?
I didn't ask for this. But here it is. I'm an icon to an oppressed nation. The light they pray exists in the dark. Oh, God.
My father had always told me that courage could be found when we often thought all hope lost. That all it took was a spark to ignite passion, for one person to do or say something, providing the catalyst to keep moving forward. Trent was my spark. This moment the catalyst. Would it all resolve from here?
Or would it unravel?
I took the can, shook it, and then added my touch.
The symbol for Wánměi is a lion's head. The symbol for our freedom had become a zebra. Hardly powerful in the natural world, so the books say. But here, in a heavily populated city, confined to an island with invisible walls and strict rules, a zebra need not be alone.
Together we are stronger, I wrote. Stay strong!
I was committed. I think I'd been committed for a while. But sometimes it takes an epiphany - or a determined rebel leader - to make you open yourself up and bare all.
Trent's fingers slipped into mine, taking the spray can from my too tight grip. He placed it on the table and then turned me to face him. I stared at his chest, not lifting my head. I don't know why.
"The first step is always the hardest," he said softly, his hands loosely gripping my upper arms, his hot breath disturbing the top of my hair.
"I've been walking this path since my father died," I whispered. "I just hadn't realised that fact until now."
Hot air washed over my head in a harsh breath. I'd surprised him. His thumbs began to gently rub the skin beneath my t-shirt sleeves. I could almost feel his gaze on me, willing me to look up. Needing me to do it without him asking, or forcing with his fingers under my chin. I'm not sure how I knew this, sensed this, maybe because I was feeling it so desperately too.
I am not a coward. Never have been. Until recently not much scared me. Lately, I've been terrified, though, but of all the things I'd learned growing up as an Elite, playing the part of a confident Honourable is perhaps the most useful. The one thing I will never surrender.
My head rose, my chin lifted, and I stared into hungry deep blue eyes. His pupils weren't as dilated now, he'd progressed through the opiate dose, taking a step closer to paranoia. It wasn't there yet, but it would come. As it would for me. And if we weren't somewhere safe when it did, we'd likely hand ourselves over to the Cardinals on a silver platter, desperate to test.
It felt so final. A foregone conclusion we couldn't avoid. It made me feel uncomfortably desolate. Wanting nothing more than to cling to life before it was whisked away.
There had to be an answer. A way to circumvent the drug the drones had administered through their laser beams. But right now, right here, looking into Trent's bottomless blue eyes, I couldn't think of one. All I could think of was grasping life with both h
ands.
My world had changed, but in a way you couldn't physically see. It was still my beloved Wánměi, still full of colourful people and vibrant cultures. But the veneer had worn off, scrubbed clean by a rebel army.
Still beautiful, but exposing the rot hidden underneath.
And I desperately needed an anchor. Something to tether me to the earth, reassure me I wasn't floating away with the change. Before it took everything. My home. My beliefs. Me.
I held his gaze, lifted up onto the tip of my toes, my mouth hovering over his. Deep blue eyes widened, then heavy lids fell halfway down, a cocky smirk gracing his lips.
Oh, no. I was not going to let him ruin the moment with some banal comment, some disconnected-from-his-brain remark.
My lips sealed his, melded to the soft velvet of his skin. Heat surged through me. A groan escaped Trent. It encouraged me further, made me bold, when I would have otherwise acted more like an Elite. I pushed against his shoulders, feeling alive, feeling here. Forcing him to step back until his legs met the couch. And with one more hard press against his chest, he was sitting, and I followed him down. Straddling his lap, placing my knees beside the outside of his hips, our chests within an inch of each other. Our lips still glued together, our tongues licking and stroking and surging in.
So alive.
"Lena," Trent moaned, his hands running all over my body. Hot and hard up under the shirt, over my arched spine. Tight and controlling in my hair, tilting my head where he wanted it, taking over the kiss and making it his.
In this I could capitulate. In this I let Trent lead the way. My own hands hungry for a touch of him; fingers running over defined ridges across his abdomen, over the hard and smooth planes of his chest. I could feel his arousal as it pressed eagerly into my core through our clothing. I melted against it. Rocking my hips, trying desperately to assuage the hunger, soothe the ache, fill the void.
This was life.
"Oh, fuck," Trent growled. "Lena," he repeated.
I tipped my head back, exposing my neck, falling into the bliss he created. He took advantage of the move, his hot lips laying open mouthed kisses down my throat, then shifting to the side where he sucked on my skin, tongue licking as he did it.
We clung to each other. We rocked and moaned and licked and sucked. We lost ourselves in the sensations we created. Together. Alive. Sweat soaking our skin, tingles racing through our nerves, gasps escaping our lips.
He rolled us, lying me down the length of the couch, pressing his arousal between my thighs, wedging himself into the gap he'd made, resuming the rock of his hips. I arched up to meet him, my ankles crossing above his legs. Melding us together, even though we were still dressed.
I'd wanted him like this for some time, I realised. I'd wanted to give in to the draw, give in to the pull he had. I'd wanted, but not dared to believe I could have.
But we were creating a new world. One where my status and his lack of made no difference. One Wánměi. It worked. That tagline made sense. Freedom could come in many forms, but for our Wánměi it would come as solidarity. Unity. One people. One nation. One Wánměi.
No more Honourables or Elites. No more Cardinals and Overseers. Freedom.
Life.
My t-shirt had somehow been removed, I hadn't felt Trent lift it over my head. I was too busy feeling everything else he was doing. To my skin. To my body. To my heart.
My breaths came in shallow pants, his in softly grunted gasps. My pulse raced. My head spun in a magical whirl of sensational colours. My body ached.
And then his lips wrapped around a nipple, sucking, licking, nibbling.
I was gone.
Trent took no prisoners. Nothing scared him. This wasn't an act. This was all him. Taking, giving, not hesitating to experience the moment, or fall into the blissful sensations, bringing me to the brink and then forcing me to feel more.
His hand slipped down over my stomach, as he turned his attention to my neglected breast. I arched my back, came up off the sofa with each pull, and then his fingers slipped through the snapped open buttons on my jeans and delved between my legs.
"Lena," he growled, and I had to hand it to him, at least he could verbalise words, even if they were the same ones over and over again. I was mute with ecstasy. The only sounds I made were pleading moans.
So thrilled to be clinging to life.
He rolled his thumb over the bundle of nerves at my centre, dipped one digit down to my moistened folds. He groaned, panted hot breaths against my cleavage, buried his face between my breasts, and then shuddered as he slipped a long finger deep inside.
"Oh, God," he moaned under his breath. "Fuck, Lena."
And then he was removing my jeans down my thighs, throwing off his t-shirt baring an impressive chest to my eyes; glistening moisture making his smooth skin shine under the fluorescents; his veins standing out starkly in his neck as blood pumped through his system fuelling him on.
His eyes looked wild. Stormy, but in an electrifying way.
He paused, as I looked up at him, bared to him completely.
He hesitated, as his hands found the buttons of his own jeans, his brow furrowing.
A growl started growing from the back of his throat, his eyelids closing tightly, denying me that beautiful blue I'd grown to love.
"Damn it!" he snarled, pulling away, moving to stand and running two frustrated hands through his hair.
Hmmm. I sat up, not bothering to cover my nakedness, letting him watch the way my body moved without clothes.
"Fuck it all to hell!" he exclaimed, and then cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, I'm still here," in a more normal tone of voice, and added, "Or did you miss my expletives?"
My eyebrows arched, as he let his gaze sweep over my body and a soft sound of pure regret slipped through his lips. Dark and hungry, apologetic eyes came up to mine.
"Muhgah Foh," he said to Simon through his earpiece, having to clear his throat again as his eyes lingered on my bare flesh. "We're in Muhgah Foh."
I smiled. Curfew was obviously over. And so was this.
Chapter 17
Well Now
Trent
I alternated between pure elation and utter fucking frustration. Then pinged right back to elation again.
Lena wanted me. She so wanted me. I was smiling when Alan pulled the van up to the side of the road we were standing on; hiding under the shade of a nearby tree. And just because things were cut off right in the middle - well, maybe the beginning, I'd had plans that were going to take several glorious hours - didn't mean we couldn't pick up from where we'd been forced to stop and carry on back in my room.
Or her room. I'm an equal opportunity kind of guy.
"Get in," Alan instructed, not amused at my scheming grin.
I slid into the front passenger seat as Lena climbed in the back, placing the duffel down on the floor at her feet. I would have liked to have been in there with her, but Alan had opened the passenger door for me, clearly expecting me to take it.
My mind and persistent erection might have been back in that apartment building basement, but it was clear I needed to get up with the play.
"What's happened?" I asked, a sense of impotent dread invading my body making me fume. The word impotent and my imaginings, which now had real fodder to back them up, should not be anywhere near each other.
Alan's eyes flicked up to Lena's in the rear vision mirror. I suppressed a sigh; I thought we'd moved on from this. Lena was part of us now. There was no reason to hedge what we said.
But that wasn't why he did it, I realised. He was making sure Lena saw the apology in his gaze before he spoke.
"Augustine Tengku was wiped earlier today, along with his entire family. The arrest was shown on national television this morning." He sucked in a deep breath, before adding, "They're saying he was aiding the rebels and in particular hiding knowledge of where Selena Carstairs was from the Cardinals, so therefore denying the Chief Overseer his bride."
Silence
. In the front of the vehicle and in the back. And now I really did wish I had slipped in the rear of the van with Lena. I turned in my seat and watched her. She was looking out the side window at the passing street, face devoid of emotion, back straight, eyes clear.
What was she thinking?
"Treason of the highest order," Alan added. A direct offence against the Chief Overseer. "They also said Citizen Trent Masters was holding the Honourable against her will, and anyone who saw him should not hesitate to detain him in any manner necessary. The reward is a year's worth of ration doses for an entire family."
I whistled low, my eyes still on Lena's rigid form. Realising she wasn't emotionless at all. She was drowning in them. Trying futilely to stay afloat.
"We need to discuss your safety on the street," Alan went on, nodding towards me and not Lena. "You get seen out there and anything could happen."
Yep, it could. But then, in this fucked-up city, anything could happen anywhere.
"That's not all we need to discuss," Lena said, making me blink in surprise that she'd spoken at all.
"Yeah?" Alan asked, encouraging her to go on.
"Maybe we should wait until we're back in the tech room to go over everything together," I offered, wanting to give her a reprieve.
Cool blue eyes swept across the vehicle to meet mine. I held very still. This was a side of Lena I had not yet met. Interesting.
"Within the next twelve hours I'm going to want to test. You, Trent, will want to do the same within the next twenty-four."
"What?" Alan asked. "Why the hell would you want to test?"
Ah, yeah. I ran a hand over my face and rubbed at my stubbled jaw.
"The drone's laser beams have been modified," I advised, receiving a wide eyed look from Alan in return. "Lena and I have both been clipped."
"And the result is wanting to test?" Alan queried.
I nodded, letting out a slow breath of air.
"Fuck," he added. I nodded again. "You guys OK?"
And this was why I trusted Alan with Lena. Despite the shit life he'd led up to today, he still cared.
"A bit sore, but no paranoia as yet," I offered.
Cardinal, (Citizen Saga, Book 2) Page 10
