“We both know you heard me.” His voice was clearer now.
He was right. She’d heard him. She just didn’t know if she could believe him. Or, if he was telling the truth, why he was telling it to her. They hated each other. He was offering her immortality?
This had too good to be true written all over it. Then again, an angel transporting her to America in the blink of an eye was equally unbelievable, and it had happened.
Stay alive—her most pressing objective. Was he truly handing over a way for her to attain that goal? Forever?
What does he want in return?
“You are in the United States, which we’ve already told you. You are safe, which we’ve already told you. You are in the facility of a government-run military operation that protects the Trees found in the Garden of Eden. I’m telling you the truth.”
Farrah frowned. She squeezed the fruit. “Why?” Why tell her? Why offer it? Why was he doing any of this? What does he want in return!
“How did you lose your sight?” he asked again.
Ah. Exchange of information. Well, he was in for a lot of disappointment. Farrah didn’t know how she lost her sight. Her mind, if it knew the details, had hidden whatever happened to her eyes from her for two years.
And if she did know?
She would never tell him. Never tell secrets. Even ones you don’t know.
Well, in this he did not make a good strategical move. He’d already given her the fruit that he was planning to exchange for information. She squeezed it.
Immortality. If this was true, it was priceless. To live forever. Farrah had been fleeing death at every turn since she was five years old. To take that power away from others? Away from her enemies?
The dawning of the most intense kind of relief began to rise from her gut. To live without the fear of death.
What does he want in return, even if it was more malicious than exchange of information, might be nothing to lose in comparison to this gain.
Her mother! She could provide this same protection for her mother! She just needed to know where they kept the Trees so she could get a piece of fruit before her journey—the journey that was suddenly possible when minutes ago it had seemed completely impossible.
The trick now was to take a bite so quickly that he could not stop her when he realized she would not deliver his expected return. It was dirty, but she would do anything to gain immortality. This was practically nothing compared to what she would do if he had bargained a different way.
She grew very still. He was sitting right beside her; she could feel him with every inch of her body.
She was a master at feinting; years of pick-pocketing had taught her valuable survival skills. She feared, however, that she wanted this too much to be stealthy.
She could be holding eternal life in her hand.
She raised the fruit up before her under the guise of feeling it with both hands. She moved slowly, ready for him to protest at any second.
He said nothing. The only sound in the room was his breathing, and Farrah could swear that it was faster than it had been moments ago.
Quick as a cobra strike, Farrah was on the fruit. She sank her teeth into the skin and moaned immediately as the most delicious taste flooded her mouth. The flavor was heavenly. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she sank into the couch cushions, every muscle in her body relaxing.
Suddenly, each relaxed muscle spasmed, wrenching down upon her bones and driving a scream up from her stomach that shot past her clenched teeth.
Her fingers clamped around the fruit she still grasped, and she crushed it. Her back bowed, and she slipped sideways as her body contorted around the pain and ecstasy that simultaneously flooded her system.
He’s killed me. Oh my God, he’s killed me, and I walked directly into his trap.
She could hear him shouting something, but it was so dim behind her own screams that she couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Mother!
She was never going to feel her warm embrace again. She was dying. Alone and lonely. Unloved and dying.
Her thoughts were in such turmoil that she did not notice right away when the physical agony ebbed. When it vanished altogether, her mind finally caught up with what was happening, and her whimpers faded into silence.
He was holding her. Oliver was cradling her in his arms. She was…settled in his lap? His hand was cupping her cheek; his thumb brushed across her bottom lip. His breathing was even louder than hers.
“Come on, baby.” His voice was so deep that she felt it down to her toes. “Open those beautiful eyes for me.” That thumb kept stroking. “You can do it.”
One thing became instantly clear: he had manipulated her. He hadn’t killed her like she’d thought, sure. But he’d wanted her to eat that fruit, and she had fallen for it.
This. This whatever-it-was reaction from the fruit—he’d manufactured a situation that led to it.
Turned out she should have paid more attention to the What does he want in return.
With a sick taste in her mouth, Farrah opened her eyes.
***
Oliver’s heart was beating so hard in his chest, he was sure it was going to leap right out of his throat. He couldn’t even breathe right now, and yet, somehow, his breaths were rasping in the silence of the room.
This could be the moment that changed everything. She would open her eyes, see him, pair with him, and then take away his horror-filled life with her body.
He would have his old life back.
Her eyes were fluttering, and Oliver froze, his thumb pressed into the softness of her full bottom lip.
Those amber eyes met his. Every muscle in his body went on lockdown.
“Do you hear something?” he asked in a rumble. “Anything?” The One—God, please let her hear it.
He bent his head down to look at her more closely, but her gaze stayed in the same place.
Her brows crashed down over her eyes. She slapped his hand away from her skin with more venom than he expected any human to be able to muster. She rolled from his lap, crashing into the coffee table with a groan. She scrambled to her feet, only to trip over the coffee table once more, landing on the floor in a heap.
She was hurting herself. Panic clawed through Oliver’s system. As he reached for her, he knew: she was still blind.
She was never going to see him. Never going to Impulse-Pair with him.
Just before his hands touched her, his body registered the fact that he was no longer in physical contact with his mate.
Pain raced through him, lighting up every nerve ending with chemical fire heat. He sank to his knees, unable to catch a breath. Through eyes swimming with tears, he saw his mate gain her feet and stumble as far away from him as their close quarters allowed.
“I hate you,” she spat.
Oliver doubled over, clutching whatever part of his body he could reach. Oh, how he hated her, too. But he couldn’t—no matter how much he wanted to—gain enough control of his body to tell her.
She felt her way around the room, hugging the wall as though he were going to attack her at any moment. When she got to the door, she wrenched it open with an inhuman sound and stumbled into the hall.
The door slammed behind her, and Oliver blacked out.
11
It had taken them only a few minutes to track her down after she left Oliver’s apartment, but it had taken her much less time than that to gather her wits and begin her search for the Trees.
Oliver was a bad, bad man. He had used her. This should not come as a surprise to her, and she would not let herself be affected by it. People used those around them when they could. It was the way of life.
After eating the fruit, it hadn’t taken long for her to realize Oliver had been at least partially truthful: Farrah was different.
Immortal.
After regaining her senses and fleeing him, she’d discovered her bruised eye no longer pained her. She’d probed it gently with her finger
s and all swelling and signs of bruising had vanished. Additionally, energy and vitality coursed through her.
She’d never felt more alive.
No matter what Oliver had done, Farrah had gained immortality because of it. Immortality! So she was willing to move on. After a quick mental slap of the cheeks, she’d gotten down to the business of finding the fruit for her mother so she knew where it was when it was time to escape. She began her search in the enormous room with the inexplicable breezes and had been standing beneath the Trees when they found her.
She hadn’t put up a fight when they escorted her back to Oliver’s apartment, mostly because she was silently memorizing every step and every turn so she could make her way back to the Trees in the shortest amount of time possible.
However, when she and her escort of two soldiers reached the apartment, they didn’t leave. She now seemed to have a permanent guard. It was inconvenient, and she did not quite know how she was going to proceed. If she overpowered her guards, there would be another alarm, and she wouldn’t have time to snatch the fruit before she made it out the door. She had to get that fruit. She just had to.
She sat on the couch idly listening to the television as whoever her guards were took turns changing the channels. Every other moment or so, a burst of giddiness would emanate through her chest.
She was never going to die. No one could ever kill her. How surreal. It was unbelievable, and yet…it simply was. It was her life now. For the first time in ever, things were looking up.
She could not set aside her tried and true question, however. What in the heavens did Oliver want in return for this? That he wanted her to eat the fruit was now obvious. He’d tricked her; that had to mean he was the bad man she suspected. The consequence however was Farrah’s greatest dream. She…couldn’t figure him—or this situation—out, and that was very unsettling. Humanity had never surprised her before.
There was a knock at the door, and it pulled Farrah from her thoughts. One of the guards groaned, and then there was the sound of him getting up from the couch and walking to the door. Another knock was sounding when he opened it.
“Outside, boys,” said a slightly accented female voice. “We’re here for some girl time.”
“We’re under orders to—”
“Nope. Outside,” the same woman said, cutting the guard off. “You can wait right at the door if you want, but you will leave, or I’ll tell Jericho you made my Braxton Hicks worse.”
There was a slight intake of breath from the guard still sitting close to Farrah. “That’s definitely my cue.”
Farrah had a sudden and idiotic urge to ask him to stay. Farrah did not like new people, and right now, she had a serious case of the devil you know. But before she could open her mouth to protest, the door closed, and two pairs of feet sounded on the carpet, becoming steadily louder.
The couch jiggled slightly as someone joined Farrah on it, and there was a sigh and a groan originating from the chair to Farrah’s left.
“Ay,” said the accented voice. “I will never be comfortable again.” Another groan. “I’ll never make it through two more months. I’m as big as a piragua cart.”
“That’s three more months, hon,” the voice to Farrah’s right said. “Remember how long I carried Genesis?”
“Shit. Jericho owes me big.”
Farrah bit into her bottom lip and tried to curl into herself as surreptitiously as possible. Who were these two strange women? What did they want?
“I’m Abilene, by the way,” said the voice to the right. “But you can call me Abi.”
There were several seconds of silence before Farrah realized that the woman was talking to her and not the other woman—the one with the accent. Farrah managed a nod.
“And I’m Dahlia,” the other one said. “Oh!” There was noise from the chair as Dahlia seemed to shift around. “That one was right in the ribs. This kid is trying to kill me.”
Farrah curled more tightly, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.
Abilene made a sympathetic noise, and then Farrah felt the woman’s focus narrow in on her. “So, what’s your name, sweetie?”
Farrah pressed her lips tightly together. No. Never. She just achieved goal number one; her resolve could not be more firm in the keeping of her other two. Her name was her secret.
“Abi, God,” Dahlia said. “Buy the lady a drink first.” Dahlia shifted around again. “You don’t have to tell us anything, amiga. We’re just here to chat. Seriously. But it is customary in America to shake hands when meeting someone new. Mine is right in front of you.”
Farrah cringed a bit. Dahlia’s kind direction was a slap in the face. Please let them have known about my blindness before coming in here. If she was revealing that part of herself so easily, she had better get a grip.
Shaking hands. Seemed innocent enough. And if it wasn’t, she would have her hand on one of them as an origin for point-of-attack.
Farrah unclenched her hands and reached tentatively forward with her right. Dahlia immediately grabbed Farrah’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, but she didn’t let go. Farrah stiffened.
“Hmmm,” Dahlia hummed. Then she released Farrah’s hand. There were a few seconds of awkward silence, and Farrah swore she could feel Dahlia and Abilene communicating silently somehow. Finally, Dahlia spoke again. “You’re seriously gorgeous, girl.”
“I know, right?” Abilene said.
Farrah’s head hurt. Was this how women in America spoke regularly? Quickly jumping from topic to topic? Farrah clenched her fingers together and held her silence. She didn’t want to participate in any of it.
“Wish Grace could have come,” Dahlia said. “We stopped by her room, but she’s got a little stomach bug or something. I know!” Dahlia suddenly exclaimed, making Farrah jump. “Let’s play a game. It’s called ‘What’s worse?’”
Another switch of topic, and it was finally too much. Farrah broke her silence. “Who would want to play that game?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “It sounds horrific.”
“Naw, it’ll be awesome,” Dahlia said. “Okay, first question: What’s worse? Dying, or— let’s say—having to give a wank to someone you don’t like?”
“A…wank?” Farrah asked. What?
“Dahlia….” The way Abilene said the other woman’s name, it sounded like a warning. Alarm bells went off in Farrah’s head.
“Are you threatening me?” Farrah asked. “Because, I warn you, that will not go well for you.”
Dahlia laughed, her husky chuckle nearly musical. “Honey, honey, honey. This is a game. And a hypothetical question.” Another chuckle. “Damn. And, besides,” she paused. “Hypothetically. Let’s say it wouldn’t be you who was the one dying.”
“Dahlia, seriously.” Abilene’s tone was clipped.
“What is it, exactly, that you think Oliver is going to do to you?” Dahlia asked, switching topics yet again.
Farrah was done. “I think you should leave.”
“Okay,” Abilene said. “I agree with her. This has gotten out of hand.”
“Because,” Dahlia persisted, “everything a bad man could do to you—hit you, rape you, sell you—” Farrah gasped but Dahlia didn’t pause “—Oliver could have already done, and he hasn’t. You realize that, right?”
Well, if they weren’t going to leave, Farrah was going to ask her own questions. “Tell me the truth,” she spat. “Is this some sort of…brothel?”
The women. The security. It all added up.
Dahlia laughed again, and this time, Abilene joined her. For some reason, Farrah’s cheeks heated, and she wished her question back again.
“Oh, I definitely like you,” Dahlia said, breathless from her laugh. “Sweetie, you’ve landed in a damn circus, but this is not a brothel. You try to touch my man, and you’ll draw back a nub.”
Farrah stiffened. Though she didn’t understand the words, she was sure that was another threat.
“She’s kidding,�
�� Abilene said quickly.
“So not,” Dahlia said under her breath.
Abilene sighed. “Okay, hon, let me offer you some unsolicited advice, and then we’ll leave.” The tail end of her statement seemed to be directed at Dahlia. Farrah just sat still. If they were getting ready to leave, all she had to do was wait them out. “Nothing bad has happened to you, and you’ve been here for two days. I’m guessing you know enough about the shitty side of life to know the bad stuff tends to happen pretty quickly in new situations.”
Farrah’s attention was snagged in spite of herself. This woman had a point.
“What do you have to lose in giving this living-in-America thing a try?” Abilene asked. “It might not end up being so terrible.”
Farrah pressed her lips together and turned her face away from the women. They didn’t know that she’d been pulled away from her mother’s location just when she’d been so close to finding her. She’d lost what little she did have by coming here.
Of course, she’d also gained eternal life. Farrah frowned, not liking the direction of her thoughts. Was that worth it? Was a delay in finding her mother worth it if she gained the one thing she’d been striving for—a life without death—since she was a child?
“We’ll see you soon,” Abilene said. “And we’re sorry our visit was so disruptive.” She paused, but Farrah was too embroiled in her thoughts to acknowledge her. “We really would like to be friends,” Abilene continued, “but we’ll wait until you’re ready.”
Farrah was barely aware of the women leaving the apartment. She was…conflicted. Perhaps—perhaps Oliver had done her a favor by bringing her here. Perhaps this was the opportunity she needed. Perhaps there was no answer to what does he want in return.
As soon as she thought it, her mind rebelled, but the passing idea took hold.
Farrah had to admit, if she’d already made contact with her mother prior to her abduction, she would have viewed this move to the United States as a gift from Allah.
If she found her mother, she could bring her back here, to this land of opportunity. They could live in safety and security for the rest of their endless lives.
Of Blind Fate (Operation: Middle of the Garden Book 5) Page 8
