Taken (Many Lives Book 2)

by Laxmi Hariharan

  Later, after they reach home, after Gilbert leaves, after he insists that Aria use his bed and get a good night’s sleep – just for tonight – Jai prowls the living room.

  He’s exhausted, yet too keyed up to sleep. When he checks in on her, she stirs restlessly, twisting the bedclothes around. He wants to go to her to calm her down. But to do so will be to give in to those feelings. If he goes to her now, he won’t be able to stop himself.

  He’ll want to reach out and touch her, run his fingers through her hair, lean close and touch his tongue to the pulse thundering at the base of her neck. He’ll want to brush his lips over hers and walk his fingers down to her breasts…

  No.

  He must let her go, for he has a promise to keep. He cannot risk everything he’s been working towards all his life.

  Everything Ruby died for.

  Everything Vik still spends his life on pulling together.

  His thoughts crowd in, closing in on him till the apartment feels too small. Flinging open the balcony door, he steps out onto the decking, letting the night air wash over him. A gentle tide today and in the distance a lightening of the skies – another day, and then only one more with her. He stands there, looking out.

  He’s seen this view a thousand times. Seen it each day of his life; the same and yet it changes. That sole remaining pillar from a once shining bridge. Once, it connected his life to the mainland. Often blurred by the morning mist, pounded at by the heavy rain, the pillar follows the sun East-West-East again. He’s watched it.

  Growing up, he used to gaze at it. When he was unwell he asked it to make him better. And cried to it as a little boy when his mother died. He’s even raged at it, threatening to tear it down after his first kill. As he’s grown, he’s looked to it and silently marked time. Coming of age. Becoming a man. Now he asks it what he must do next, and the answer is clear.

  He must kill again. Kill what he feels for the girl sleeping in his bed. Make sure it does not survive.

  15

  I wake up in his bed. That cinnamon and pine smell of his flows over me, holding me, comforting me. For a second I let the lingering heat from his body draw me in, letting myself sink into a space where all that exists is me and him.

  It’s so quiet I can hear the waves from the beach, can hear the sound of my own breath whoosh in-out-in.

  If I could, I’d stay here forever. In this little corner of the world where anything is possible. Where nothing can hurt me. He makes me feel safe. Like he can hold the rest of the world outside the door, like he can stand up to anything, to anyone. Even his father, the Mayor.

  Even his uncle, the General?

  I move, restless then, and a sharp pain twinges through my head. It’s where the General had struck me. He could have held back a little considering we are on the same side. It sinks in then that I am working hand in glove with Jai’s enemy. The one who’s out to topple his father from the post of Mayor and take over the city.

  Earlier, my plan had been clear. Find a way to get close to Jai, get his sword, get out of here, and save Lily.

  Now?

  Now I’m not so sure. If I don’t do as Vishal wants me to, my family will die.

  If I do steal the sword…I lose Jai’s trust. Worse, Vishal will most certainly use it to topple over Jai’s father; perhaps even kill.

  He will kill Jai.

  My heart begins to pound fast at that. I sit up in bed, ignoring the throbbing in my temple. Swing my legs over the bed and groan aloud as various aches in my body make themselves known. I stand up, my feet digging into the carpeted floor, relieved to find my legs are strong enough to hold me up.

  A shower, I so need a shower just now.

  Recalling the rough feel of the brute’s tongue on my throat I shudder. Hurry, hurry. Get under the water and wash it away right now. I walk into the large shower cubicle. Exhausted as I am, I still can’t help but notice the size of the bathroom. My entire little hut in the Jungle can fit in here.

  Shading my eyes against the shine of white from the tiles on the floor, from the sparkling steel of the faucets, I croak, "Jets. On. Full." And sigh as the water beats over the straining muscles of my back.

  The steam rises. Heat floods over me, seeping into my pores, making my head whirl. Swearing, I fling out my hand against the tiled wall and lean my forehead against it.

  The steady beat of the water is hypnotic, and closing my eyes, I give in.

  Reaching for the shampoo I begin washing my hair. The soap suds stream down my face and the smell of cinnamon and pine surrounds me, and suddenly, he’s in this little space with me. It’s his smell. His shampoo. His lips. It’s as if he’s right here and kissing me. Like he’d done on finding me. He’d fixed his lips on mine with a hunger that’d taken me by surprise.

  He’s not as cold as he appears. Still, that lust, that naked want I’d sensed has touched something inside me. Made me want to reach for something more. For him. I’d wanted to kiss him again, and again. And touch him and feel his palm running over my… Stop it!

  Fisting my palm I press my knuckles against the wall so the raw skin screams in pain. It cuts through the haze of desire in my head and straightening, I rasp, "Shut down."

  I wrap a towel around myself. Not caring about the water dripping from my hair, I limp out of the bath. Walking into the bedroom I come to a stop.

  He’s standing not four feet away, fists clenched at his side as if he's controlling himself. As if he's just about managed to stop himself from joining me in there.

  His eyes rake over my skin, leaving little pinpricks of fire in their wake. The heat spools off him. It crashes over me, curling around me, playing over the tops of my breasts, flowing down my waist, lower still. Tugging at the base of my groin, pulling at me. My mouth goes dry, and the pulse thunders at my throat.

  I can’t breathe.

  Can’t move my eyes from his face either.

  My fingers loosen and the towel slithers over my skin, sliding down my legs, falling around my feet.

  Jai inhales sharply and the cords of his throat move as he swallows. Amber flames spark in his eyes. His jaw hardens as if he’s angry.

  As if he’s made up his mind.

  He takes a step towards me and another and a third, till he’s standing right in front of me.

  Heat plumes off him again and I can smell him now. That bittersweet smell that makes my mouth water. Goosebumps erupt on my skin and I resist the temptation of winding my arms around my waist to cover myself.

  He leans down, his head coming towards me, and I lift my head. Close my eyes.

  I want this. I want him. Want the sight of him to wipe away everything I’ve seen in the Jungle on the sea journey to get to Bombay, one which I’d been sure I wouldn’t survive. And before that. Before my father was killed, before we lost our home. I push that away too.

  I am here.

  Alive.

  And I can feel him.

  Can sense the life coursing through his veins. The desire coming off him in waves. He’s turned on. I know that. Can feel his arousal. And I want to give in to it. Want to bury my nose in his chest and smell him, take him in, fill myself with him and…

  He drapes the towel around me, over my arms, knotting it above my breasts. The tips of his fingers brush my skin and I shiver, not opening my eyes. I inhale sharply, my cheeks flushing.

  He still doesn’t move.

  His gaze burns a path over my skin, leaving flickers of fire in their wake. The heat from him is overpowering, swirling around me, a living connection. Dense. Heavy. So real I can reach out and touch it, sink into it.

  And still he stays motionless. Not moving.

  He’s not going to kiss me or touch me again.

  Heat drenches me and I want to die of mortification. I curse myself again, bite the inside of my cheeks, when…a soft touch as if he’s brushed his lips over mine. My eyes fly open but already he’s moving away, towards the bedroom door, shutting it softly behind him

&n
bsp; My knees tremble, almost giving way under me. Pulling my hands free I unwrap the towel and hobble to the bed. To where he’s laid out a fresh set of clothes. His clothes. Slipping into the too large shorts and T-shirt, I knot a belt around my waist, winding it twice before cinching it in.

  I hobble to the living room to find him standing by the window looking out.

  "Why?" I ask.

  The sound whispers over the rawness in my throat, every breath feeling as if it’s scraping against sandpaper.

  He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge me. His back is ramrod straight and even without seeing his eyes I know the soldier in him is back. He’s put those barriers up between us and now I’ll never be able to get through to him again.

  "Why, Jai?"

  Why did you kiss me?

  Why did you walk away from me just now?

  I bite my lips, trying to control the emotions warring inside.

  I know I’m half in love with him. Am also relieved he didn’t take me up on my offer of sleeping with him. If he had, I’d never have gotten over him. If I had slept with him, I’d have to carry him inside me forever. He’d have spoiled me for anyone else. It’s better this way. I know that.

  And yet that very female part of me still wants him, no matter what. Just want to feel his skin against mine, his breath on my cheek, feel him inside me. Already I’m dreading when it will be time to leave. I don’t want it to end. Want it to stay like this. Like now, when he sees me only for what I am, and not for what I am about to become.

  When he still doesn’t say anything, a flash of anger ignites. Without realizing it, I move forward and am halfway across the room when he turns and asks, "Why what?" His voice is casual, his eyes shuttered. He leans back against the wall, his hip thrust out slightly, indolent, as if he doesn’t care that I am here with him, in this room.

  I know he does care.

  He must.

  Ignoring the burn from my wounded leg, I take the few steps forward to bridge the space between us till I’m right in front of him. Almost touching. Close enough to see the amber sparks swirl in his eyes. I know then that he’s not as unaffected as he’d like to pretend.

  "You know exactly what I’m talking about," I snap.

  I’m working myself into a fine temper too but I don’t care anymore. That awareness, that thread of something which had bound us briefly, lingers.

  And I want him to acknowledge it too.

  He steps back, severing contact. Raises his hands before dropping it at his side, before running his fingers through this hair, messing it up even more. "I kissed you earlier. So what?" he says, half meeting my eyes. "I was just relieved to have found you. I’d been worried about you. I’d have done it to any friend…" His voice tapers off when I glare.

  "Right. So if Gilbert had gone missing you’d have done the same thing when you found him? Devoured him with your mouth?"

  I redden as I say that. But it’s true. He knows it’s true.

  "I didn’t…" He straightens as if getting a grip on himself, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. "No. Look. I mean…" He runs his hand through his hair again, then turns away to walk to the window, looking out.

  I stand where I am for a few seconds and when he turns, his eyes are clear.

  His features set.

  He’s back in that soldier mode of his, and this time there’s no bringing him back.

  "Look I can’t deny there’s something here," he gestures to me and back to him. "Yes, we’re attracted to each other. And yes, I kissed you. Hard. But let’s put that behind us and move on." He takes a deep breath and folds his arms over his chest before muttering to himself, "This is insane. Tomorrow you go back to the Jungle and I go back to —’

  "Back to what? Being a killer? A heartless soldier who does what the Council asks him to just because he doesn’t have the balls to stand up for what he believes in?" I snap.

  He straightens and his face goes pale. For a few minutes he looks lost, vulnerable. Then, it’s gone. Replaced by that same iron mask. His voice is cold enough to send a shiver down my back when he bites out, "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

  "No, I do." I take a step forward, knowing I am crowding him, but not able to stop myself. "I do know you, Jai. And that soldier, the one who blindly follows orders, is not you. You know what the right thing is to do."

  I put out my hand, palm up, wanting to touch him, to feel his heartbeat, feel those emotions I know are churning inside him.

  "You must help us, help the refugees find a new life. You have the power to change the history of this city, you…"

  He walks around me, past me.

  My hand falls to my side.

  "Get some rest, you’ll need it for tomorrow," is all he says before shutting the front door behind him, very quietly.

  Fighting a ridiculous urge to cry, I blink, and biting my lips, hobble slowly back into the bedroom. My eyes fall on the shelf in the far corner. There it is. His sword. He’s left it behind.

  This time I too know what I must do.

  16

  Jai walks into the handsome Victorian building that serves as the office of the Mayor of Bombay and the headquarters of the Council. Untouched by the tsunami, it still stands more than 200 years after it was built.

  Walking down the corridor on the fifth floor he pauses to look at the Arabian Sea stretched out before him. At low tide, the sea is calm, peaceful. But he is not fooled. He knows that those very innocent waves had once risen till they touched the skies. Had become a wall of green, a fast-moving death, which had advanced on the city and swept everything in sight away.

  How did it feel to see your family die, to lose everything you ever had? The killer tsunami had destroyed much of the city, sparing random people and buildings. No logic to the death it imparted.

  A shiver runs up his spine and Jai hastens his step. It won’t do to think of that, not now. Not when his heart is still too full of the girl he has left behind. Not when he needs to keep his mind razor sharp.

  Drawing on his training as a soldier, he evens out his breathing, shutters the emotions on his face. Reaching the end of the corridor, he walks into the room, his steps steady.

  In that instant he looks every inch the role he is growing into. The role he’ll soon perfect for the world. A Guardian of this City.

  The two men standing at opposite ends of the table look at him.

  It strikes Jai again how different the half-brothers are.

  His father, tall, broad-shouldered, his face wiped clean of feeling. The streaks of gray at his temples only add to his charisma. Wearing the formal black trousers and shirt with the purple armband and stripes, he looks every inch the Mayor of Bombay.

  Vikram doesn’t smile, doesn’t even acknowledge his son with as much as a nod, before gesturing to him to take a seat at the table.

  This is exactly what Jai has come to expect from his father. As if when it came to his son he is unable to express himself. As if when he sees Jai all he can see instead is Ruby. The woman he loved, the only one in the world he had been capable of loving. And with Ruby’s death, he’d also lost his capacity to love anything else.

  Can you love someone so much that you pour everything you have into that person, love enough for many lifetimes? And when that person is gone, you lose your ability to love anyone else?

  The other man walks towards him. Vishal engulfs him in a hug. His thick forearms weigh heavy on Jai’s neck as he locks his nephew in a playful man-to-man grip.

  As always, a hint of desperation in Vishal’s touch has Jai shifting away.

  It always feels like Vishal’s pouring all his unrequited love for Ruby, his not having children, all of it, concentrated in the circle of arms wrapped around his nephew.

  Jai moves back another step.

  He’s always loved his uncle the way a young boy loves the only adult in his life who’s shown him any affection. This is, after all, the man who’s introduced him to books. A surprise even now.
For looking at the General, you’d never think this man was a reader.

  It’s the only trait that Vishal and Vik share.

  Other than a common father.

  With his closely shorn crewcut, muscled torso and skin like tanned leather he looks every inch the Leader of the Guardians, charged with protecting the city.

  His uncle loves him all right. Just, sometimes it felt as if Vishal gave his love with the expectation of getting something back.

  "So have you learned anything more?" Vik asks without preamble.

  Cold. Incisive. Logical. It’s what he’s come to expect from his father.

  "At least be grateful that the boy is back safe," Vishal explodes.

  Vikram stiffens. His jaw hardens and he fixes his brother with a cold stare that has reduced so many to silence.

  It has the opposite effect on Vishal, who draws himself up to his full height, which still means he only comes to Jai and Vikram’s shoulders. And again the difference between the two half-brothers is striking.

  Vishal’s lived his life trying to get the better of his brother. Trying to prove to the world that he’s better than his brother. He’d do anything to have more power than Vik. But he’ll never be anything other than a shadow of Vik. For Vikram has a core of steel, a presence that is real; a soul that simply reaches out to people, convincing them that they could trust him.

  It’s why Jai can never stay angry for long with his father. For despite it all, despite his long absences from home, despite his sporadic parenting, still he knows his father will stand up for what’s right, no matter what. And it’s a trait that Jai envies and has struggled hard to emulate all his life.

  And now Jai watches as Vishal struts around the table to where Vik is standing by the window. Jai is sure he’s going to launch into an argument, as is the norm. But Vishal contends himself with a smirk before that too is wiped off his face.

  Pulling out a chair he drops into it. Then holding up his hands, says, "Fine. This is between father and son. I’ll stay out of it."

  Jai is taken aback. This is the first time that Vishal’s even come close to agreeing that his father is right about something.