I don’t move when he gets out of the car. He’s all the way to the front door before I finally give in and push my own door open. I’m going to strangle Mr. Walters the next time I see him. My sharp footsteps pad down the walkway to plant me right next to Braden. My scowl only makes him smile. One unforgettable day together doesn’t mean he has any right to surprise me like this. I hate surprises. Braden turns the key and unlocks the door, but I’m not about to go inside with him until he explains.
“Whose house is this?”
“Afraid I’m turning you into a cat burglar?” he teases.
He thinks this is funny? I wrinkle my nose at him. “Well, given your background …”
“I have a key,” he says, holding it up right in front of my crinkled nose.
“Who gave it to you?”
“You’re ruining this for me, Libby. Would you just come inside?”
“No.”
Braden does his best to look irritated, but after the day we’ve had, it just isn’t possible. “You are a very frustrating girl sometimes. Do you know that?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“I thought you said you trusted me.”
I stare at him with one eyebrow raised mockingly. “Hmm, you, who has hounded me for the past eight months, doing everything you can to convince me to give in to you, have now brought me in the middle of the night to a house I have never seen before. Do I trust you? No, I don’t think so.”
Braden sweeps me into his arm before I can blink and starts moving.
“Braden!” I screech.
Walls and furniture whip past me. Everything around me tilts as I’m spun back to standing and plopped standing on the floor. Good grief, he’s fast! I have to brush my hair out of my face to see anything. I’m so going to get him for that. Blinking away the last of my disorientation, I finally see it. I think I’m going to faint as I take in the meager collection of all my earthly possessions. It’s my room, my little, cramped motel room, but it’s not in the motel anymore.
Oh no, he didn’t. I can hear my voice shaking as I speak. “Braden, what is all of my stuff doing here? And whose house is this?”
Either he doesn’t hear the panic coloring my words, or he simply chooses to ignore it. Braden’s hands slip around my waist, bringing his mouth closer to my ear. “You’re no fun at all to surprise, I hope you know.”
“Braden …”
He sighs and spins me around to face him. “Your stuff is here, because if you want to, you can live here. I’ll move everything back if you don’t. And quit freaking out, because I did not pull a Milo and try to buy your affection.”
“That’s not what he did!” I object, shoving him away from me.
“This house,” Braden says, talking right over me, “belongs to your friend, Inquisitor Moore. He said his daughter and her family used to use it when her kids were little. Something about not wanting to ruin his nice house.”
That’s why this house looked so familiar! I haven’t been here since I was six or seven when I came to play with Inquisitor Moore’s grandkids. The extra house became a must for his daughter when her son, Tony, knocked over a Murano crystal vase worth thousands of dollars. It smashed into a million pieces when he ran around a corner too fast and bumped it. Inquisitor Moore wasn’t mad about it, but his daughter was terrified her kids were going to destroy the whole place. He bought them a guest house before their next visit.
Feeling much better that Braden didn’t do anything quite as stupid as I originally thought, I’m still not thrilled about what he did do. “Braden, couldn’t you have asked me about this first? I liked my motel room just fine. It was out of the way, and I don’t like imposing on people. I’m fine at the motel.”
“This is a better neighborhood, closer to the school, closer to everyone else in our little group of insurgents, and most important, it’s closer to me,” he says.
“Really?” I ask too quickly.
He nods. “I only live a few minutes away. I can be here the moment you need me instead of having to drive clear across town to get to you. And for me, at least, that makes me feel a lot better. If I hadn’t already been on your side of town when Saia attacked you, I might not have gotten there in time and you could have been hurt. I’d like to avoid that if at all possible, especially after seeing how awful you are when it comes to going to the hospital.”
I have good reason not to like hospitals, but I can’t stop the blush from forming on my cheeks. “I never did thank you for helping me out that day,” I say, remembering how the slightest touch of his hand took away all my fear.
He repeats the gesture, lightly running his fingers across my skin. “Any time,” he says. His voice is soft and tempting. I want to close my eyes and revel in it. When I try to argue with him again, I can’t make myself sound very forceful.
“Braden, I don’t want to stay here. It’s going to get Inquisitor Moore in trouble if anyone finds out he’s helping me. He’ll be removed.”
Braden’s fingers close around mine once again. “Libby, after Wednesday, when hundreds of Ciphers show up at one of his houses, it’s going to be pretty clear to everyone what side he’s chosen. Either he’ll be removed or he won’t. The Cipher families are gaining a lot of influence nationwide. They’ll definitely support him. Either way, he’s made peace with his decision. I don’t know what Lance said to him, but he regrets not helping you from the beginning. He wants you to be here.”
“I don’t, Braden.”
“Libby, please. Things have been relatively calm for you so far … minus the broken ankle, Lazaro’s attack, me coming after Milo, and Saia.” He pauses to appreciate just how un-calm it has really been. “After we get the Ciphers out, things are going to get a lot worse. It will be all over the news. Everyone will know you’ve collected your army. Everyone you know is going to be forced to choose sides, and I’m sorry to say I don’t think you’re going to get very many eager volunteers. As soon as the Ciphers are free, you’ll be in danger constantly, not just the ever-present threat of the Guardians, either. Please don’t argue with me on this. You need to be here with everyone else. You can’t be alone anymore.”
“I’ll still be alone,” I say quietly, “just closer.”
The pressure of Braden’s hand cupping my chin forces me to look up at him. “Libby, you aren’t alone. You won’t ever be alone.”
“You don’t understand …”
His other hand moves to my lower back and pulls me in. “I don’t understand? I understand alone. I understand it very well. I know alone better than anything else, and you are not alone, not anymore. And neither am I. I won’t leave you.”
The frantic way my heart and mind are racing completely scramble my talents, but I don’t need them. I can’t even trick myself into believing he’s only saying this because we’re Companions. I know too well that bone-deep longing, of wanting to have someone love you. He’s spent so much of his life with no one to really care about him. Feeling his pulse race under his skin makes me desperately want to be the one person he knows will never let him be alone again.
Help, help! I have to distract myself. Peeling my eyes away from Braden, I glance back at my new room. “When …” I squeak. I have to pause to get a grip of my voice. “When did you move all this stuff here? I was only at the cemetery for a few hours.”
Knowing that I’m giving in to the idea of living here, Braden relaxes. “I’m fast, and I’m strong. It wasn’t very hard. If I hadn’t been recruited by the Guardians I could have become a professional mover.”
“A mover, huh? I would have guessed race car driver, or wheel man for some bank robbers.”
“Those are pretty high on the list, too,” he says.
I finally manage to push myself away from Braden and turn to stare at my stuff. He was sweet enough set everything up for me. My bed is made. The DVD tower is filled with my favorite movies, and he even hung up the artwork I’ve done over the past year. I wander over to the far wall and stare at the drawin
gs and paintings. This is the only thing that has kept me sane since my Inquest. Every time I feel as if I’m losing control of my life, I pull out my charcoals or paints and let the insanity slip away. Images of everything from me and my dad to Southwestern landscapes and desert roses fill the back wall. I know the next images I’ll add will be of the Bosque.
It’s the first time I’ve seen them all laid out. It’s the first time anyone besides me has seen them all. Milo knows I love to draw and paint, and he’s seen some of my pieces, but I usually prefer to work alone. It’s my escape from everything going on in my life.
Braden comes up behind me and stares at the collection over my shoulder. “I had no idea you were such a wonderful artist. Finding these slowed me down considerably,” he says.
I smirk at him over my shoulder. “Don’t you know it’s rude to go through other people’s things without permission? These were private.”
“Sorry,” he says, though he looks rather unapologetic. Braden steps around me and reaches for the black portfolio case propped against my bed. With everything pinned to the walls, I assumed it was empty. The way he holds it makes me think I might be wrong. He walks back over to me, but doesn’t open the case.
“There were a few more drawings that I didn’t hang up,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask warily. I’m scouring my mind for what might be in there.
I figure it out just as he lets the case fall open. The sweeping lines that together form a dozen or more striking resemblances of Braden’s face stare back at me. My fingers twitch as they remember every stroke. I drew each of them on nights when I was missing Braden more than I should have. I am filled with a mixture of pleasure at seeing them and relief that he didn’t put them up with the others. If I hadn’t realized they were there and Milo had seen them … it would not have been good.
The reality that Braden—the subject of my secret longing—discovered them sends a shot of red streaking through my skin. My fingers clutch the case as my eyes close against the mortification I feel. I have turned him away so often, pushed him back when he only wanted to be near me, tried to convince him that I have no interest in his attention. These drawings prove my words to be lies. Every stroke is laden with need and desire to have him. Every time I tell him now that I don’t want him, his mind will dredge these back up. I open my eyes, utterly speechless.
Braden gently takes the stack of drawings and closes the portfolio. “Can I keep these?” he asks.
I should say yes right away, show him how little they mean to me. Milo might find them here anyway, and what are the chances he’ll ever be hanging out at Braden’s house? It’s perfect. Why don’t I say yes, then? I touch one of the sheets of paper lightly. I don’t want to let go of them, but it’s not a good idea to keep even a single one.
Pulling my hand back, I say casually, “Sure, if you really want to.”
Whispering through my mind is the traitorous thought that I can always draw more.
“I do want them.”
Braden smiles as he sets the portfolio back on the floor. My eyes still linger on the drawings, something Braden doesn’t miss. “You can come visit them anytime you want, though, especially since you live so close to me now.”
“Yeah, right.” I blush and try to shake off his teasing. “But speaking of where you live, shouldn’t you be getting back there? It’s pretty late.”
And I really don’t know how much more of him I can take tonight. As if he knows this, he puts the drawings down on my bed and sets his hands gently on my hips. I know he can feel the shiver that runs through my body. His hands tighten around me and I have to press my hands against his chest to keep from being pulled in completely, literally and figuratively. Unfortunately, I can feel the muscles under his clothes and my mind is instantly filled with images of his bare flesh, visions of his corded muscle and the grace of his movements.
It’s getting hard to breathe.
“I’m not going home tonight,” Braden says quietly.
The panic I should be feeling doesn’t come. “I … what?”
He smiles. “I don’t have a car, remember? And you’re not supposed to be alone while Milo’s gone.”
“You could call a cab again. And it’s so wrong that you’re using his words against him,” I say breathlessly. “You know this was not what he meant.”
“Maybe he should choose his words more carefully next time.”
He had no clue what kind of suggestion he was making at the time. He never would have made it if he had. “You’re not staying.”
“Either I’m staying or you’re coming with me.”
I wonder what his townhouse looks like. Is it as comfortable as his car?
“Not a chance,” I make myself say.
His arms slide all the way around me and I suddenly can’t find the strength to resist. Pressed up against him, need burns its way through me. My body molds to his. I feel so lightheaded I have to close my eyes to try and steady myself. The sensations get worse as the feel of his body becomes my only focus. His lips rest very lightly against my ear.
“I’m not leaving,” he whispers.
Willpower abandons me completely. “O … okay.”
His pleasure douses me almost to the point of senselessness. Almost. I hold onto enough of my brain power to say, “But you’re sleeping on the couch.”
Braden pulls back and looks down at me with perfect innocence. “Of course,” he says, “were you expecting me to sleep somewhere else?”
“No,” I say quickly.
He grins, and I swear he gets even more irresistible than before. Leaning down so his mouth hovers way too close to mine, he says, “I think you’re lying.”
I’m going to faint if I don’t get away from him right now. Twisting out of his grip, I take a step away from him and I’m finally able to take a deep breath. The air is still thick with him, but I feel more in control than I did a second ago. It won’t last. If he gets a hold of me again, I don’t think I’ll be able to get away. Frightened by how much I want that to happen, I step a little farther away and gesture at the door.
“Have fun on the couch.”
Braden moves to leave, but he won’t go that easily. He sweeps in and kisses me lightly before pulling back. I can see in his eyes the offer to stay if I want to change my mind. My inability to speak or react keeps me from making what would undoubtedly be a huge mistake. He pulls the door shut and I slump down to the floor wishing I hadn’t let him out of my sight.
Chapter 2
8
Promise
I wake to the sound of my phone ringing and the smell of bacon. Ignoring my grumbling belly, I scramble to find my phone among the blankets. My fingers struggle to actually answer it. After a fitful night of sleep, the best I can manage is a grumpy “What?” when I finally get it up to my ear.
“Rough night?” Milo asks.
“Milo!” I gasp, sitting up and brushing my hair out of my face.
“Did I wake you?”
I glance at the clock and grimace. It’s already after ten o’clock. “I, uh, didn’t sleep very well last night. Sorry.”
“Hey, don’t apologize. Spend the whole day in bed if you want. You could probably use the rest with how busy you’ve been. You can’t be exhausted for the rescue. I’m sorry you didn’t sleep very well. I know you’re worried about everything.”
Guilt rushes through me. If only it were really worrying about the upcoming rescue that had kept me up last night. In fact, it was the first night in a while that I hadn’t lain awake worrying about the details. No, Braden being right outside my door is what kept me from sleeping peacefully. Knowing that I could crawl up next to him on the couch and sleep better than I could ever dream haunted me all night long. I fell asleep clutching my phone, hoping Milo would call and help me resist, but his call never came.
Pulling my attention back to Milo, I ask, “I’ll be fine. How’s your trip going?”
“Great,” he says, “I’m sorry I didn
’t get a chance to call you last night. I was over at Marc Hasselt’s until pretty late. I can’t wait to show you what he taught me. You’re going to be amazed. I’m going back over today to train again.”
“That’s great,” I say, trying and failing to sound enthusiastic.
“I’ve missed you,” Milo says. “I’ve been worried about you, too. Are you safe? Have you been doing alright? There haven’t been any problems, right?”
His rapid fire questions catch me off guard.
“Um, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I’m honestly just relaxing and taking it easy. When are you getting back?” I have mixed feelings about his return, not wanting to face him with my guilt and lingering irritation at him, but desperate to see him again and give Braden a reason to leave.
I can almost hear Milo’s eagerness to return to work across the phone line. “Our flight gets in at eleven-thirty tonight. It’ll be late, but I’ll still come over if you want.”
“Sure, that’d be great, but I’m not at the motel anymore. Inquisitor Moore found me another place to stay, closer to everyone else. I’ll text you the address,” I say and wait for his reaction.
“Oh, okay,” he says slowly. “Did you already move your stuff? I thought you were supposed to be lying low. Moving out of the motel might have made the Guardians watching you wonder what was going on. They might have gotten suspicious and started investigating. We don’t need that kind of attention right now. I would have done it for you when I got back.”
The pleasure I had felt at hearing Milo’s voice starts slipping away. The fact that his concern is directed toward me possibly messing up our plan by drawing the Guardians’ attention rather than concern about me is hard to miss. Part of me wants to call him on it after the argument we had, but I don’t want to waste the energy. I brush away another round of frustration and answer him.
“Braden moved everything for me. He made it look like he was confiscating everything for work, I guess, so no one cared. He made sure no one was following him when he left, too. Everything is fine.” It’s a somewhat misleading answer, but I’m not about to tell Milo my move was all Braden’s idea so I could be closer to him. “I wanted to get it done quickly, and I don’t have that much stuff, so moving was pretty easy. Don’t worry about it.”
Secret of Betrayal: Book Two of The Destroyer Trilogy Page 28
