“It wasn’t your fault.” Theron put the digital display away and made his way around the desk. Planting his hands on Dolores’ shoulders, he massaged them with care. “You are a wonderful woman—someone I am proud to serve.”
Annalise studied the duo. Her grandmother and Theron shared a lot of history together, and she could see that in their eyes. There was a great amount of suppressed emotions she couldn’t figure out. It was the same way she saw parents looking at their children—but not Regina and William Storm. Her mother never spent time with Annalise unless it was to get her ready for a gathering her father had to attend. And her father, he was too busy to spare a moment and read her a bedtime story. All other children at school talked about their parents doing things for them, hers only bought her the things she desired to keep her quiet.
A tear left a wet trail on Annalise’s cheek.
Dolores pushed Theron’s hands away and cleared the tiny river with her thumb. “What is the matter? Are you unhappy with something?”
“I love you, Grandma,” Annalise mumbled and buried her face in Dolores’ chest.
“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Dolores cooed.
Annalise’s heart ached. It was the first time she was on the receiving end of those words.
Two weeks later, her grandmother smiled at Annalise as she opened the front door. On the other side stood the young boy they had chosen from the catalogue along with an older man dressed in a cheap business suit. Alabaster, Annalise guessed based on his looks and pale skin. The boy—Mavel Green—was much taller than she envisioned. His light-brown hair had been trimmed short, but his expression remained guarded and uncertain. His silver, cat-like eyes held her attention captive.
“Come in,” Dolores urged, motioning for them to enter the apartment.
The older man introduced himself by saying, “I am Roger Green, Mavel’s father. I’m sorry my wife couldn’t come. She’s a worker and isn’t permitted to leave the Green District.”
Dolores nodded and shook hands with him.
Annalise’s eyes never left Mavel’s chiselled face. He was gorgeous. Many male students in her class couldn’t hold a candle to him. She swallowed nervously, edging backwards to take a seat on the sofa. Why can’t I look away?
“I’m glad you made it,” Dolores went on. “Annalise was eager to meet him to see if he would fit as her servant. Personally, I think he looks rather excellent on paper. Your son is quite special.”
Roger blushed. “Yes, he is a great kid.”
Mavel separated from the adults and moved to stand in front on Annalise. Now that he was a foot away from her, she noted the subtle unhappiness around his eyes and the strain around his mouth as if he was refraining from speaking his mind. Tilting her head to one side, she stuck her hand out for him to take. “I’m Annalise Storm. My grandma calls me Anna.”
He took hold of her hand, sending a slight current through her. His eyes widened a fraction, and he went down on one knee in front of her in a practised fashion. “I am Mavel Green. If you take me as your servant, I vow to look after your every need and desire, mistress.”
Her brain struggled to accept his empty and emotionless words. She didn’t want him kneeling. He looked much better when he was standing like a pillar of strength by her side. With tears rimming her eyes, she knelt on the ground and cupped his face.
Surprise registered on his face as she smiled. “Now we’re on the same level, Mavel. Please become my friend.”
Loud beeping of her wrist comms shook off the remnants of the bittersweet dream she was having. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and checked the time. It was only 3:17 a.m. Who in their right mind is calling me at such an ungodly hour?
She forced her body into a sitting position and answered the call. “Yeah?”
“Anna…lise, I need you to…open the…door,” Devlin’s pained voice came through the speaker.
She was immediately out of her bed, the action causing her vision to blur for a second. “What’s wrong? What door?”
“Yours…”
Discarding the fact that she was wearing only her panties and a tank top, she ran to the front door. Opening it, she found him standing there, clutching his right side. His pallid complexion instilled fear in her as she scanned his body for faults. Other than him cradling his side, she couldn’t see anything.
“Why are you—” She didn’t get a chance to finish her question before he collapsed on top of her with a grunt. Her back hit the cold wooden flooring, and she cursed. This was not how she imagined spending her night.
She manoeuvred under him to free her hand and push him off. A long minute later, when she managed to do that, she was panting. He weighed a tonne. Something red was smeared on her hand—blood. Her mouth morphed into a tight line. She quickly closed the door behind them and dragged him into the living area, leaving him propped up against the side of the sofa.
Annalise checked his pulse. It was strong. “What happened to you?”
She got no response, so she endeavoured to find out. Careful not to disturb him, she peeled back his jacket and found a large bloodstain from a fresh bullet entry. It was odd to see proper bullets in their city since DPD mainly used tranquillisers nowadays. But, Dawson’s bodyguard who attacked her in the Red District also carried an unregistered weapon and was ready to shoot her full of holes with it not too long ago.
“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered more to herself than to him. Not like he was going to hear her anyway. His breathing was harsh, but he must have passed out from the pain. What bothered her most was that he didn’t go to a hospital in Silver to get treated. He came all the way to her apartment, which required passing the scanners and smiling to the security guards at the entrance of the Tower.
His brow began to sweat, making her let out another curse. She had no time to debate his reasons. He was her partner. Whether she liked it or not, she had to look after him.
She sped to the bathroom where she grabbed two towels and the healing gel she had left over from her treatments. She didn’t know if it was still any good. The freshly prepared stuff worked best, but she couldn’t be picky about that. Next, she found the first aid kit under the kitchen sink. Bringing the items with her, she wondered if this was what her life would be like from now on—men bursting into her apartment at random times of the night and seeking help. She hoped it was a one-time thing with Devlin.
Once she had arranged everything on the floor next to him, she peeled back his shirt, seeing an overwhelmingly toned body beneath. Her cheeks heated at the sight.
“For God’s sake, the man’s bleeding. Get your head out of the gutter!” she snapped at the inner voice that wanted to check if his abs were real.
It took her a while, but she placed one towel under him. The bullet went through, avoiding major organs and arteries by the looks of it. She sterilised the wound as best she could and rubbed the healing gel on it, which quickly started to clot the blood and shrink the opening. She taped gauze to his side and wiped his sweaty brow with a spare towel. After taking a long breath, she did the same to the exit wound.
As she waited for him to wake up, she ran the possibilities of what could have happened to him. He left the office to talk to a judge about their case. The judges she knew of lived in Silver or Golden Districts. There was no way he could get shot in such well-policed areas. She rolled her eyes. She was nearly murdered by a crazy scientist in Silver not too long ago. Anything that went on behind closed doors or in secret facilities was off limits to normal DPD officers.
Does this have something to do with Falcon?
As if to answer her curiosity, Devlin chose that moment to open his eyes. He blinked and squinted at her. “How did I get here?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who showed up on my doorstep with a bullet in your side.”
Devlin managed to sit up with a clenched jaw, pressing the gauze closer to his skin. When she offered to help, he shot her down with a stern glare. For the next ten minutes,
he bandaged up his middle with practised precision and a couple of barely suppressed groans.
“I guess you want an explanation…” he finally said, resting his back against the sofa.
“That would be nice,” she replied as she started to clean up.
“I got in contact with a judge who is willing to look into the case and provide us with a warrant for the Montgomery Institute.”
Her attention snapped to his perfectly sculpted poker face. “How? And how did you end up getting shot in the process?”
“It’s Falcon’s way of giving me a stern warning not to use my old connections to get results in my new position.” He caught her hand, and their eyes met. “Help me up. I am thankful for your help, but I cannot remain in your apartment. It will raise some eyebrows, and I’m sure you don’t want people to gossip about our relationship any more than they already do.”
She jerked her hand away. “You’re an idiot if you think I’ll let gossipmongers control my life.”
“Are you suggesting I spend the night here, with you dressed like that?”
Her eyes travelled to what he was looking at. She had next to nothing on and had forgotten about it amidst the whole bleeding-to-death-guy-on-her-doorstep kerfuffle. Her hands flew to cover her chest. “I’ll go get dressed.”
“You don’t have to on my account. I am more than happy to see you the way you are now.”
She speared him with a scalding glare and scrambled to her room where she donned a pair of jeans and a thick sweater.
“Annalise, may I come in?” he called out from behind her door as she finished changing.
“Sure. Don’t mind the mess—”
Devlin entered the room. He looked pale and had managed to remove his shirt. Studying his muscular form better, she spotted an older scar from a bullet that must have been weeks old on his left shoulder. “Is that from the time you helped me and Mavel escape?”
He rubbed the area she was staring at, covering it with his hand. “Yes. The painkillers and the healing gel helped deal with it after Falcon allowed me to get medical treatment. It’s nothing for you to worry about. After all, you are someone I am willing to protect for the rest of my life.”
His words warmed her heart, and she didn’t know how to react to his openness. She lowered her gaze to the ground. He wasn’t a terrible choice for a fiancé—there were a million worse options her father could have thrown at her. Devlin was serious in his work, well respected by the DPD, and he was charming. He was even perfect in every physical aspect, too. With Mavel, she had no future. As long as he was wanted by Falcon, they won’t be able to see one another. How long would that continue for? A month, a year, more?
Without her realising it, Devlin was now standing in front of her. He lifted her chin with a tender touch that caused her body to tremble from anticipation. Their eyes met, and she was lost in the intensity of those aquamarine oceans.
Then, out of the blue, Calla’s words bounced into her psyche, ‘He’s something alright.’
10
Doubts
She stepped out of his reach, questioning every sensation, every feeling she had running through her in his presence. “Why is it when you touch me, I feel…attracted to you?”
“Perhaps it is because you are,” he countered, letting his hand drop to his side.
Annalise swallowed to wet her dry throat. He had become an enormous presence in her life in such a short amount of time, and she could no longer pass him by without having to stop and think. Do I find him attractive? On a physical level—yes, he was a great specimen of the human race. But on an emotional level, did she have feelings for him? It didn’t make sense for her to have them. They barely knew each other. And, having spent only two days as his partner, she possessed next to no information about what his life was like while he worked for Falcon—other than the fact that they were trigger-happy when it came to their old employees.
Devlin reduced the distance she had created between them, taking hold of her hand. He lifted it to his lips and left behind a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I can tell you doubt your feelings for me, Annalise. It is natural for someone like you to do so.”
“Someone like me?” she asked, arching a brow.
“You are a police officer. You question everything that comes your way. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t survive the Academy or the political world your father is involved in.”
She accepted his words and pulled her hand back. “You can rest on my bed. You look exhausted, and I doubt you stopped to have a nap on the way here.”
“Yes, I am quite tired, though I can occupy your sofa. You don’t need to accommodate me to such an extent.”
As he turned to leave the room, she caught him by the upper arm. “Devlin, please listen to me. You need to get some proper rest. I can’t imagine you getting any of that on the sofa.”
He studied her intently for a long minute. She was ready to continue defending her point, but he planted a light kiss on her forehead. “I will do as you ask.”
“Good.” She pushed him towards the bed. “I’ll wake you up in the morning to check on you. I will also go to the hospital and get someone to prescribe healing gel. I’m sure they won’t be able to turn me away.”
“You don’t have to do that for me…”
She shook her head. “I want to. You’re my partner, remember?”
He said nothing as he climbed under the covers and rolled onto his intact side. There was no point to add anything else to the conversation, so she headed into the hallway. She studied her apartment with a scowl. There was a lot she needed to clean up before she could get back to sleep.
Having wiped the blood drops off the floor and putting the first aid kit away, she spared a glance at the sofa. She wasn’t keen on spending the night on it. Slowly, she made her way to Mavel’s room and peeked inside. She clapped once, causing the light to come on. Nothing had changed. His bed was impeccably made. A small amount of dust was beginning to gather on his bookshelves from neglect. She edged to his bed and laid on it, taking in the lingering scent of his cologne. It was like being enveloped in his arms and pressed to his chest. She had missed the way his body moved fluidly around the kitchen when he prepared food for her or the way his smile excited her heart.
Stray tears escaped their containment as she rolled to one side and hugged his pillow to her chest. Life without Mavel wasn’t the same, regardless of her pretence that everything was fine.
She woke up the next morning to her wrist comms’ alarm going off. As much as she would have loved to feel like a freshly baked loaf of bread, she felt more like a squeezed lemon. The peaceful dreams she had prior to Devlin showing up at her apartment were no longer in her grasp. Her brain conjured endless scenarios of what Falcon could be brewing in their facilities for the rest of the night.
Dragging her body out of bed, she managed to trudge into the en-suite to wash her face and rinse her mouth. She combed her fingers through her hair, seeing the dark circles under her eyes in the mirror. Today was certainly a makeup day.
Since most of her things were in her room, she snuck back in to find Devlin still asleep on her bed. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and a deep frown etched into his usually relaxed facial features. Shuffling closer to him, she sat on the edge of the bed to study him. Sure, she was being a creepy stalker, but this was the only time she could see him without his guard up.
Her fingers brushed the damp hair away from his forehead. A second later, she pressed her palm to it. He had a high fever, and she left him unattended for the whole night. I’m an idiot.
Annalise left the room and called Chief to inform him that she won’t be able to come in today and that Devlin was sick. Afterwards, she ran to the bathroom and wet the last clean towel she possessed. Upon her return into her bedroom, she pressed the cold towel to his forehead, dabbing at the sweat beaded there.
“Devlin?” She nudged his shoulder.
He groaned and slowly peeled open his heavy eyel
ids. Squinting, he mumbled, “Mother?”
Oh great, he’s hallucinating. And what part of me sounds or looks like his mother? “It’s me, Annalise. How are you feeling?”
“Mother, I will do as you ask. You have to give me more time…”
Annalise stood up and went to her kitchen to find something that could bring his fever down. She scavenged some ibuprofen in one of the cupboards and poured a glass of water for him while contemplating if she should call the Tower’s doctor. Almost instantly, she dismissed the idea. The doc would question Devlin’s wound and why he wasn’t at a hospital.
Cursing under her breath, she returned to his side, feeding him the pills. She lifted his head, guiding the water closer to his dry lips.
“I don’t know why you talk about your mother when you’re this delusional, but I hope you’ll be alright.”
Once she was satisfied that he had swallowed the pills, she pulled back the quilt to assess the damage. His bandages were stained red, possibly from rolling around the bed too much. They would be in a lot of trouble if she didn’t get more healing gel, and she cringed at the idea of stitching him up with needle and thread.
“I’ll be back soon,” she told him, not sure if he had heard her.
He let out a soft moan when she covered him up again with the quilt. She took that as partial acceptance of what she had said.
Two hours later, she was back at her apartment with freshly made healing gel. She had to spin a story that her shoulder and stomach were aching after the ordeals she went through during her first case at the HPD. The doctor who attended to her seemed sceptical at first, but he didn’t want to be the one to turn away William Storm’s only daughter. Her father’s influence was everywhere.
When she entered the bedroom, Devlin was changing his dressing while sitting up on the bed. He appeared paler than earlier, but she refrained from pointing it out.
Case: 1: A Dystopian Mystery (Annalise Storm Chronicles Book 2) Page 7
