by Susan Harris
A cascade of memories raced through my mind, of Jack taking me to a fairground, of Jack holding me close as I cried over the death of my parents, of the times Jack had forced his way past my hardened heart. Jack was family. This was all wrong.
I felt confused at the thoughts in my mind, the feelings in my chest, and the coldness in Jack’s eyes as he glared at me; this was far from the image in my mind of a smiling uncle who loved me.
“Ryan, unless you wish to spar, you have no business in here stirring up trouble. Get out of my sight.”
Bristling at his tone, I dismissed his words with a wave of my fingers and blew a kiss to Nattie over my shoulder as I strode from the room. But I was not done inflicting pain. I may have given up fighting with a sword, but my words were as sharp as any blade and I had a treasure chest full of secrets that would bring Jack’s life crashing down on him.
I waited until Jack had called his class to attention, silence falling on the gym, before I called his name loudly. I feigned a look as if I were utterly apologetic, and Jack hesitated. Then I struck out hard.
Batting my lashes, I pursed my lips and then asked, “Will you be attending the wedding this weekend? I know how… close… you and Atticus were. Maybe we will get a chance to catch up then.”
Jack swallowed hard at the mention of his former lover, one who had asked to marry because he couldn’t stand to hide his relationship with Jack. Now, this weekend, Atticus would marry the daughter of the American president of vampires, and as they planned to stay in Ireland, Jack would have to watch every day as Atticus sired children.
I took in his broken expression and smiled; my work done for the day. Chuckling softly, yet loudly enough for everyone to hear, I swept from the room, delighting in my wave of destruction.
You are not vindictive, Ryan. This is all a trick of your mind. You were never this cruel, no matter how much life tried to break you. This is not you.
I stumbled at my own voice in my head when we walked down the hallway, and Edison steadied me with his arm. Glancing up at him, I knew I needed to block out this hollow feeling in my chest, so I yanked out my phone and tapped in a text to Katerina to say I would need to take a rain check for today.
Edison read the text, grinning down at me as I licked my lips. I opened my mouth to speak when a firm hand grabbed my arm and yanked me into a classroom, slamming the door behind me. The last person I wanted to see blocked my escape.
5
Crown Prince Nickolai stood in front of me, his arms folded across his muscular chest, a frown on his face that did not diminish just how handsome he was. Curved lips that I had wanted to kiss for as long as I could remember, blond hair that was longer in the front, my fingers itched to run my hands through the strands as I tried to remember that I was supposed to hate him.
You don’t hate him, Ryan. That’s always been the problem. Remember, this isn’t real. This is all in your head. This man challenges you, sets your soul on fire so much that it scares you. This is all in your head. This is not real.
“I can see it from the way you’re looking at me, my liege, that you can’t stand me. Unless you dragged me in here to sample the goods before we’re wed.”
Nickolai blanched, his nostrils flaring as he regarded me. “What the hell happened to you, Ryan? You were never this vapid and cruel.”
“My parents died, Nickolai, and I am simply acting out my grief.” I pretended to be emotional, swiping at my eyes as if I were crying, but I could see Nickolai didn’t believe a word of it.
His knuckles whitened as Nickolai clenched his fists. “Don’t. Don’t sully their memory by using them as an excuse to be a bitch. You walk around like you’re already queen when I still have time to change my mother’s mind.”
Huffing out a breath, I shrugged my shoulders. This was not the first time he’d threatened to take away my chance to become queen. However, his mother, the queen, loved me; and one little conversation about her being a grandmother and planning a regal royal wedding was enough to quash any doubts.
I remembered growing up and fighting beside Nickolai. There was hide-and-seek, sparring. There were umbrellas in the rain. There was his arm hugging me close as we tried to chase away my nightmares together. I remembered the feel of his lips on mine, the cerulean blue of his eyes watching me with a mixture of lust and a symphony of other emotions that scared the hell out of me.
It was like an alternative version of myself, a life that might have been, and I wasn’t sure that life was any better than the one I had now. I was still terribly lonely, with no real family or friends. Sometimes, when I was alone, I cried so hard that I couldn’t breathe, and I knew it was not the first time I had done so.
This didn’t feel like my life. This didn’t feel real.
My heart skipped a beat as I tried to gather myself. The flashes in my mind had made me ache for the crown prince’s touch. And I was Ryan Callan; I always got what I wanted.
I traced my hand up my toned stomach and slowly popped the buttons in my blouse. Nickolai’s eyes watched me, flickering from annoyance to lust as I popped the last button and let the blouse slip open to reveal my skin.
“What are you doing?”
“Undressing for my fiancé, Nickolai. Come on, we both know you’ve been panting after me for years. I want you to touch me.”
Nickolai blinked. “No.”
I shimmied out of the skirt, pushing it slowly over my hips and stepping out until all I wore were my peach undergarments and my heels. I knew I was sexy, knew how to use my body to get what I wanted. I reached around to the front to unclasp the hooks that would free my breasts when Nickolai restrained my wrist in his grasp.
“Don’t,” he said huskily, fire in those beautiful eyes. “This is not happening.”
I scoffed at him, reaching up to link my arms around his neck as I dragged his head down. The moment his lips touched mine, my body ignited, heating the cold in my bones, chasing away the loneliness as Nickolai groaned, hoisting me up and seating me on the desk so I could wrap my legs around his waist. I scraped my nails over his scalp, through his silky hair as I kissed him back.
He kissed me like a man insane, sucking and tasting until he pulled away, breathless. He smelled different, not at all like the scent I had come to associate with Nickolai—this scent was like metal, as if it were all fake.
The emotion in his eyes terrified me, a mixture of hate, and something in the back of my mind screamed at me that this was not how it was with Nickolai, how I was with Nickolai.
“Is it just about sex?” The scene shifted, everything so unclear.
“What?”
My heart pounded inside my chest as I crossed my arms and pulled my tank over my head. I fumbled with the tie on my lounge pants and would have pushed them down if Nickolai’s hands hadn’t stopped me.
“What are you doing?”
“I would think that’s pretty obvious, Nicky. Do it, fuck me, get it out of your system. Once it’s one and done, we can get on with our lives and forget it ever happened.”
I couldn’t fathom where that thought had come from, the heat of Nickolai’s kiss gone as a heavy weight clenched at my chest. Yet I shoved it down, leaning back so that I lay on the desk, jerking my gaze from his as I murmured, “Just get it over with, okay? Just do it already.”
I hadn’t meant for my voice to break, for tears to sound in my throat as I felt Nickolai pull back and toss me my discarded clothes. My face flushed red as I dressed quickly and made for the door.
I paused with my hand on the door and tried to remember why we ever stopped being friends. I knew that Katerina had shielded me, spoiling me after my mom had died, and Nickolai felt pushed out. I’d stopped speaking to him and fallen in with the girls, and soon enough, the boys.
Nickolai had been a loner, really, staying away from the mindless games played by his peers. I hadn’t. I relished playing the game and being the best at it. I would be queen one day, and that was all I cared about.
But if that was true then why did the thought of it make me feel so empty?
“I have loved you since before I understood what love was. I have loved you even when you could not love yourself, and I will love you until the end of time and then some. I will not stop, I will cross oceans and countries to find you, Ryan Skye Callan. Until my dying breath, I am yours and you are mine.”
Those words chipped away at something buried deep inside me as I righted my blouse and stormed from the room, not sparing a glance at Nickolai for fear that he would utter the words to me in truth this time.
I brushed past Edison, ignoring the jealousy in his expression and took off down the hall. I came to the foyer, spotting Nattie, and readied to take my frustration and anger out on her. Suddenly, the door to the compound opened, and my heart stopped.
Nattie grinned as she dashed forward. “Uncle Max!”
White-hot rage filled my vision, and I knew I despised this man with my entire being. Suddenly, I held my mother’s sai in the palms of my hands. The absolute feeling of rightness coursed through my veins as I heard Maxim Smyrnoi say to Nattie, “Hello, my little butterfly.”
With a snarl, I launched myself forward. Maxim pushed Nattie out of reach, and I took Maxim to the ground. His brown eyes changed to red as he flashed his bloodstained fangs at me. And I succumbed to the rage inside me.
I stabbed and stabbed and stabbed, warm blood splashing my skin as I heard screams. Hands tried to wrench me away, but I struck at them, needing to make sure the monster was truly dead.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist and dragged me off the dead vampire. I dropped the sai and beat my fists against a broad chest as Nickolai took us to the ground, my wrists in his grasp a second later. Blood soaked my hands as I gulped in a breath.
“Why did you do it, Ryan? Why did you kill him?”
“He was a monster who deserves to rot in hell.” I heard the conviction in my tone, the surest I had felt in weeks, maybe even years. I had rid the world of a monster, and they should be thanking me. “His eyes were red. He’s a rogue.”
A gasp sounded from the growing crowd around me. I knew as well as they did that all rogues had been eliminated after the coup. Maxim couldn’t have been a rogue.
Jack crouched down in front of me, a familiar warmth in his features as he glanced up at Nickolai. “Did you know she could do that?”
“No.”
Nickolai let go of my wrists, and I felt his hands at my throat.
“Justice is not to be meted out by a single hand,” he said loudly for all to hear. “It is the duty of the crown to weigh grievances and mete out punishments. For the crime of murder, Ryan Skye Callan, you are sentenced to death.”
I felt oddly calm as I lifted my gaze to Nickolai’s, watching tears fill his eyes as he twisted his hands.
I awoke in the present with a shuddering breath, trying to reach for my throat only to meet the resistance of my restraints. There was someone screaming. I wanted her to shut up, but then I realized it was me. Clamping my mouth shut, I suppressed a whimper as tears leaked from my eyes.
I couldn’t close my eyes for seeing remnants of Dresden’s mind games. I felt Dresden remove his fingers as Maxim came into view. His face was stern as he regarded Dresden, asking what had gone wrong.
“You asked to place yourself in her fears, but you underestimated her bone-deep hatred of you. She had already been righting the dreamscape prior, but your introduction shattered the tentative hold I had on her mind.”
Maxim’s eyes slid to me, that muscle in his jaw ticking. “What did she do?”
“Conjured her sai and stabbed you to death. Without hesitation. Even when you were dead, she continued her assault until she was dragged off your corpse.”
I guess Dresden was not one for sugarcoating his words. If he wasn’t having a good ole time inside my head, I might have liked him.
“Then stop her,” Maxim replied. “If you ever want to see your precious cap again, then you will make her mine, Dresden.”
“Aww, can Maxim not get a girl without playing games? Does the fact that I can’t stand you make you feel inadequate? Pathetic—that’s what you are, Maxim. Fucking pathetic.”
Maxim snarled, inching closer, yet he managed to swallow down his anger as he turned on Dresden. “The goddamn prince is too much ingrained in her to let he be swayed to our cause. Do what is needed to rid her of him.”
“And if that leaves her a feral creature?”
I couldn’t even breathe, my heart beating like a drum in my chest as Maxim smirked at me. “Then so be it,” he said. “I told you I would break you, Ryan. Mind intact or not, I will still own you. Rest up tonight, my butterfly, because tomorrow the real fun begins.”
This time, as the rogue guards freed my legs and hands, I tried to fight against them, but my legs felt like noodles and my brain was short-circuiting, with flashes of real and not-real blurring together. I couldn’t do anything as they dragged me back to the room and tossed me inside.
Edison came forward, and memories of his lips on mine, his hands on my body, made me ache for his touch. As he reached for me, I hissed and shrank back until my back hit the wall. I dropped my face in my hands, ashamed of my body’s reaction, embarrassed that I couldn’t separate reality from fiction. My breath shuddered as I exhaled, shaking my head as if that would clear the confusion. It didn’t.
“Hey, Callan. Look at me. It’s me—Edison.”
I lifted my gaze to his as he knelt in front of me, and my eyes stared at his lips. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would he feel familiar? Or would I even know if it was real or not?
Was Dresden still in my head?
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my clenched fists to my eyes as I growled in frustration. My nose tickled, scents invading my senses even when my eyes threatened to betray me.
“What can I do to help?” His voice was low, reassuring as I tried to still the conflict in my mind.
I remembered striding through the halls with Edison’s arm around my shoulder, the bitter lemon scent not at all like Edison’s own smell.
Keeping my eyes shut, I sucked in a breath. “I’m having trouble knowing what’s real or not.” I lowered my voice to a bare whisper. “Dresden can mimic a lot of things when he’s in my head, but I don’t think he can smell like a vampire so he can’t replicate your scent accurately.”
“Not sure I’m following, Callan.”
Clenching my fists tighter, I blurted out my words in a rush of embarrassment. “He-made-me-act-like-Nattie-and-I-was-hooking-up-with-you-and-now-I-want-you-but-I-think-it’s-cause-of-the-mindfuck.”
Edison hissed as I opened my eyes and got to my knees. “I don’t know if this is real or not, Edison. I can remember your hands on my body, and I don’t know if it’s something I want or something he wants me to want. I need to smell you.”
Before Edison could do anything, I crawled over to where he crouched, trying to ignore the blush flushing my face like a traffic light, placed my hands on his knees, and leaned into his neck. I could see the pulse at his neck, beating quickly as I closed my eyes and, with my nose at his throat, inhaled sharply.
And then I knew this was real. The scent of Edison, mostly of blood and sweat right now, washed over my senses, and I staggered back, relief a release that sent tears falling from my eyes as I pushed myself back against the wall.
“Hey, Ryan, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
I heard the resolve in his voice; however, I had the sense of impending doom—that Edison was wrong and the worst was yet to come. I cried, my sobs becoming louder as Edison scooped me up off the ground and I clung to him, burying my face in his shoulder and smelling him over and over.
“You’re real, you’re real, you’re real,” I repeated as Edison kept assuring me that he was real.
Edison smoothed my hair and asked me to tell him what happened. As I hiccupped, I let the words rush from me, telling him of me as Nattie, of me and him, of taunting N
attie as me, and even of me trying to seduce Nickolai. I told him of killing Maxim and then of Nickolai snapping my neck.
“I think I’ve finally let my mouth walk me into something I won’t come out of, Edison. Maxim will be happy if he shatters my mind and turns me into a pet like Dresden.”
Lifting my head from Edison’s shoulder, I glared at my friend. “If he does that, if he succeeds in making me a killer for him, promise me that you will kill me, Edison. I won’t be a pawn in Maxim Smyrnoi’s wicked game.”
“Ryan…” Edison said softly, and I clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Don’t, Edison. Please. I can fight if I know that you’ll do this for me. Before I hurt someone I care about, kill me.”
Edison held my gaze for a few minutes and then nodded, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. I clung to the peace of knowing that Edison would do what needed to be done, and somehow it erased a small fraction of fear that had been coiled in my stomach for days.
I let my head fall to Edison’s shoulder again, and he shifted, sliding along the floor so his back was to the wall. He began to hum a tune, and I listened to Edison sing softly in a gravely tone that was breathtakingly soulful. I hadn’t known Edison could sing, didn’t know much about him really. I guessed that was my fault.
In the end, everything that happened was my fault.
My eyes fluttered shut, weariness in my bones—in my very soul—wanting me to fall asleep and never wake up again. I craved the darkness of oblivion, the release from all my pain.
Edison stopped singing, and I listened as he murmured to the room. “I don’t know if she’s right, Krista—if you are a ghost or just part of her imagination. But if you can hear me, if you are here, then help me save her. Do what you can to send a message to Nickolai or Atticus. There are too many people who cannot afford to lose her. Even me, dammit.”
Careful not to move, I opened my eyes to see Krista standing in front of me, tears cascading down her face. Krista reached out as sleep called me, and for a blissful moment, I thought I could feel her fingers on my cheek, an ice-cold brand that made me shudder.
