Wild Lands (Savage Lands Book 2)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Deep down, I was suffocating. Dying a slow death here.

  “How are you holding up?” Hanna rubbed my arm, her head tipping in compassion. “I know this must be difficult.” She motioned around with her champagne glass. “I know I’d be in my room with ice cream and Pálinka right now.”

  A feeling in my gut told me she wasn’t just talking about me being back.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The celebration.” Her brows bunched together.

  “What about it?” My throat went dry, and I felt a sinking sensation in my belly.

  “You don’t know?” Her eyes went wide, her mouth parting. “You mean he didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “That bastard! That is messed up and cruel. Especially how he was with you at lunch the other day. He couldn’t keep his hands off you. Should have known he’d cower out of telling you.” She peered around, looking for someone.

  “Tell me what is going on, Hanna.”

  “Oh no, the messenger always gets whacked. He needs to have the balls to tell you himself.”

  “Tell. Me.” I faced her, my teeth gritting together, my voice vibrating with fury. Before Halálház, I would never have raised my voice to her. My defenses rose, and they no longer were patient or nice; they had learned to be cruel. To be the monster Halálház treated you like. “Now.”

  She swallowed nervously, her skin paling. “Okay. Just please. Don’t be mad at me…”

  “Hanna…”

  “This party. It’s… it’s an engagement party.”

  “Whose?”

  I knew the moment she spoke, but my head spun with doubt and hope I was wrong.

  She bit her lip. “Caden’s.”

  “To who?”

  “The Ukrainian princess. She lost her husband two months ago. She’s still young, not even thirty. She’s beautiful and can bear him children.”

  Vomit coated my tongue.

  “You mean the Ukrainian princess I found Istvan fucking in his office when she was only twenty-two?”

  “What?” Hanna exclaimed. “Oh, gross.”

  The knife of deceit twisted into my chest, ripping the air from my lungs.

  “Pretend it’s that night, change every wrong choice I made which turned my life into a nightmare. I’m trapped now. My future is no longer mine…”

  Caden’s words last night came back to me. He’d given me tiny hints he was leaving me, but he didn’t have the guts to actually tell me.

  Whirling around, my feet started moving, my chest heaving.

  “Brexley!” Hanna called after me, but like Rodriguez, the bull-shifter from Halálház, all I saw was red, and I was barreling toward it at full speed.

  Istvan, Rebeka, and Caden stood with the Ukrainian leader and his wife. Their stunning widowed daughter stood draped on Caden’s arm, staring up at him with stars in her eyes and a perfect smile. Like a good obedient dog.

  Caden’s eyes flicked up, seeing me, his face turning ghostly white. My gaze tore into him with anger and accusations. His eyes twisted with guilt and apology.

  Fuck you, I mouthed, whipped around, and stormed for the closest exit, making it to the hallway.

  “Brexley!” Caden’s voice followed me. “Brexley, please stop. Let me explain.” He ran after me.

  “Explain?” I whirled around, seething. “You want to explain to me how you almost fucked me on top of the roof last night?”

  “Shhh.” He jerked his head around in panic.

  “You are engaged!” I shoved into his chest. “All the bullshit you told me last night… How could you do it to me? Haven’t I been through enough?”

  “Brexley, calm down.” He peered around, seeing if anyone heard. I was way past caring.

  “I will not calm down. You are a gutless asshole!” I pushed him away again, and anger flared in his eyes.

  “Jesus, Brex, you think I want this?” he hissed back, agony and anger cracking his features. “I don’t want to be engaged to her. I want to be with you. But I don’t have a choice.”

  “You don’t have a choice?” A derisive laughed huffed up my throat. “Wow, that’s rich coming from you. Wasn’t it you who yelled at me that I didn’t have to marry Sergiu? Now look at you, lying down like a good boy.”

  “It’s because of you I even have to marry her,” he yelled, getting in my face.

  “This is my fault?”

  “No.” He pinched his nose. “Not what I meant. But because your marriage didn’t happen with Sergiu, the deal with Romania fell through. They have him set to marry some leader’s daughter in China, which is a huge blow to Father since they have some object or substance my father wants.”

  “Substance?”

  “Some special nectar.” He waved his hand. “I don’t know. That’s not important to me right now. You are. I don’t care about her.”

  Nectar. The word triggered something in my memory, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

  “Strange how perfectly timed the princess of Ukraine suddenly became single.” I wagged my head.

  “Az istenit!” Caden ran his hands through his hair, grunting under his breath. “I told you—when I lost you, I didn’t give a shit about anything. My life felt gray and cold no matter what I did. Father told me I would be marrying her...” Caden’s rage bristled under his skin. “Married to her or some other woman, it didn’t make a difference to me.” He grabbed my arms, backing me into a wall. “You don’t get it. Nothing mattered then. Because I lost you.” His brown eyes lifted to mine, full of sorrow and regret. “I love you. Only you.”

  A tear trailed down my cheek, grief digging pins between my ribs. Everything seemed against us, our paths once again forced apart.

  He wiped my tear away with his thumb, his face twisting with anguish. “I don’t want to lose you again.” He pinched my chin, pulling it up. “Please. I can’t…”

  “You’re getting married. She will have your kids. I don’t—”

  “Don’t you dare say you don’t belong in my life, because you do. More than ` ever will. I may have a family with her, but you will always be mine. The one I choose to be with. The one I truly love.”

  My mouth dropped. “You mean you want me to be your mistress?”

  “And I will be your lover.” His lips grazed mine, kissing me softly. “We can still live a full life together, no matter who we are married to.”

  His mouth moved over mine while my brain reeled at the proposition. Not even four months ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. If it meant being with him, I would have taken anything I could get.

  “No.” The word belted off my tongue.

  “What?” He leaned back.

  “No.” I pushed him back easily, getting distance. “Fuck, no. I’m not going to be your little bit on the side, Caden. Waiting and living for the moments we can secretly meet up, while you go home, kissing your wife and kids.” I shook my head. “That is not a life I want.”

  “Brex.” He reached for me.

  “No, Caden.” I pulled away. “I love you, but I love myself too. I deserve better than that. I’ve been through too much shit not to be someone’s first choice.”

  “You are my first choice.”

  “The woman in there is your first choice.”

  “I don’t get to fucking choose!”

  “Yes, you do!” I shouted back. “I want a love where nothing can keep us apart.”

  “Brexley…” Pain lined his face.

  “Nothing.”

  “Caden,” Istvan’s voice barked from behind me. “Your fiancée is wondering where you went. You do not want to be rude to your future in-laws.”

  Caden’s gaze met mine. Torment, pain, and love flooded his expression as we stared at each other.

  “Now, son.”

  Caden’s throat bobbed, and for one second, I thought he would tell his father to fuck off. Choose me. Instead, he sighed deeply, his head dropping as he strolled past me.

  My lungs wheezed t
hrough the pain stabbing my chest, my eyes watering as I looked to the side. The sound of the door shutting was the final nail in the coffin.

  “Brexley.” I squeezed my lids together at the sound of Istvan’s voice, not wanting to hear anything he said. Wiping away my tears, I took a deep breath and turned around.

  He pursed his lips, stepping toward me, his medals and awards clanking.

  “I am no fool, nor am I blind. I’ve seen what you felt for Caden for a long time, what he may feel for you… but you understand, marriage is not about love. It can’t be for either of you.”

  I folded my hands in front of me, staying silent.

  “This marriage will change everything. Uniting with Ukraine will advance our stance in the world. Hungary will become a formidable capital in the Eastern Bloc. Trade, money, armies, power. Humans will rise to power again. So I can’t be sorry for breaking either of your hearts. You are young and naïve and will easily bounce back. You both will soon realize love is a foolish ideal and has no place in the scheme of life. Not for us.” He dipped his chin. “Now, clean yourself up, put on a smile, and rejoin the party. The Leopold press are here. It looks bad if you are not there, celebrating with your brotherlike figure on this happy occasion,” he ordered and marched back inside.

  I watched the door shut after him, a deep rage pinning me to the rug, my fists rolling into balls. To him, I was still the chess piece he had created and had the right to move around. My life was entirely in his hands. All for more power.

  My mind flicked to something Caden had said with what I had read on Istvan’s desk.

  The word nectar…

  “…he has not given up the hope of finding the nectar of life.” The journal of this Dr. Rapava flashed back.

  “They have him set to marry some leader’s daughter in China, which is a huge blow to Father since they have some object or substance my father wants. Some special nectar.”

  “Hungary will become a formidable capital in the Eastern Bloc. Trade, money, armies, power. Humans will find their way to the top again.”

  “Superior human army.”

  My lungs squeezed together, the puzzle pieces starting to click together, but I couldn’t see the full picture or how deep it went. Istvan was up to something bad, and I would not be used as a pawn, blind and naïve to what was happening around me ever again.

  My gaze swung to the hallway where Istvan’s office was. A soldier stood there, but he wouldn’t think twice about me going down there. Caden and I had the complete run of the place in their eyes. And I’d known where Istvan hid his spare key from the time I was a kid. Adults always thought children were clueless and obtuse. We picked up and saw much more than they thought.

  Not having a clue what I would find or if I wanted to discover it, the decision tugged at my gut.

  I should go back to the party, smile for pictures, and act like the ward they trained into docility.

  I should…

  Istvan thought I was a pretty face he could sell off to another country for more power and money. Tamed and obedient. He had no clue. I was more dangerous. I might look like a doll on the outside, but I was savage on the inside.

  And I would bend to no man again.

  Strolling past the guard on duty, I held my shoulders back and head high, trying to disguise the terror surging through me. Confidence was necessary in the art of deception. If you acted as if you belonged, no one questioned your intentions.

  And I belonged here.

  At least to them.

  “Good evening, Ms. Kovacs.” The guard bowed his head.

  “Good evening.” I kept my chin up, traveling down the hallway, casually peering over my shoulder when I got to Istvan’s door. The sentinel looked forward, shoulders relaxed. His job was boring and tedious, probably one of the easiest here, keeping guests from wandering places they shouldn’t.

  My fingers tapped over the hidden lockbox behind a painting next to Istvan’s door, popping the lock open.

  One thing with Istvan, he might have been an extremely good general, paranoid when it came to the outside world, always noting every detail, but he had grown lazy and arrogant inside his domain. He had not bothered to change the code for the hidden key in years.

  As gently as I could, I twisted the key in the lock, holding my dress around the knob to muffle the sound.

  Click.

  My head swung again down to the guard, my heart throbbing in my ears.

  He didn’t move.

  With care, I opened the door wide enough to slip in, closing and locking it softly behind me.

  I exhaled, feeling my pulse beat wildly against my flimsy dress.

  You should not be in here, Brexley. My conscience stomped its foot like an uptight preteen. You’re going to get in trouble. Why are you doubting Istvan? What are you even looking for anyway? All these thoughts tumbled around in my head, racking up my pulse until it pounded in my ears, almost convincing me to slip back out and return to the event pretending this lapse in judgment never happened. You can no longer pretend you don’t know anything. You know something is off. Feel it in your gut. Istvan is lying. You’ve seen the pills. What they can do. The notes from that Rapava. The opposing voice slid into my head.

  My tongue slid over my dry lips, tilting my ear toward the closed door. I listened for any activity before moving to a shelf with books, which held no interest for anyone, especially an enemy. Books on literature, art, languages. Old and antiquated in times like these. Tugging on the one I knew, feeling for the hook, the hollowed-out design pulled away in a grouping. Fake. Concealing the safe built into the wall.

  Caden implied Istvan had more hiding places, but this was the only one I knew about. I had watched him open it from behind a curtain when I wasn’t supposed to be using his office in a game of hide-and-seek.

  Like the code outside, I hoped Istvan hadn’t decided to suddenly change it.

  Sucking through my nose, my hands shook, feeling the weight of my conduct. I was purposely breaking in and spying on someone I had thought of as a father figure for years. Someone I had believed and trusted. I could walk out now, step back into my role, become the obedient daughter and soldier.

  Perspiration dampened the back of my neck, sliding down my spine, while moisture evaporated from my mouth. I typed in the code, my throat tightening, part of me hoping it wouldn’t work, giving me an easy out, an excuse to walk away.

  Click.

  The lock snapped free, icy weight dropping into the pit of my stomach as the door of the safe swung open. I froze, trying to listen for any sound outside my thumping heart, waiting for Istvan to barrel in and catch me.

  Panic lodged in my throat, and fear scraped up my spine as my trembling hands reached for the stack of documents inside. Flipping through them, I knew the third file was the one I had seen the other day. I reached for it, my heart stumbling in my chest, alarm shrilling through my veins like a scream.

  A note on the second folder was scribbled in Dr. Karl’s handwriting.

  Results on Brexley Kovacs. I tested all these three times. We need to talk.

  With shaky fingers, I flipped open the file. Most of it was medical lingo I didn’t really understand, though I figured out he highlighted things that were not normal. My regard tracked down to a footnote.

  Since the first test, her Immunoglobulin M level has tripled the normal rate. The more I tested, the higher her results were, as if each time her body was trying to defend against me. No human can sustain even half of these levels. Ms. Kovacs should be dead. She is not even showing signs of organ failure. If anything, she seems stronger and healthier.

  Note: Her fresh wounds from when she arrived have now healed as if they are weeks old.

  We must discuss these results in private. There seems to be only one explanation.

  Terror punched me in the gut, leaning me over, oxygen gushing from my lungs. My nails dug into the desk as I tried to breathe.

  They know you aren’t normal. A voice crawled from
the depths of my subconscious. It was one thing to let the thought drift across your mind, but to have others say it—it was an accusation.

  Did Killian do something to me? Did those pills change me? I pinched my nose, exhaling through my mouth. Come on, Brex, no one can change human DNA. Right?

  Boxing up my panic before I fully flipped out, I opened the next folder, quickly fanning out the papers on the desk.

  Everything stopped. My world tipped on its axis, trying to shove me off.

  Icy fingers dragged down my neck, wrapping around my throat. Shock and fear twisted my chest as I took in the dozen pictures staring back at me.

  My own image.

  A pinched noise rose in my throat, my heart slamming against my ribs. I reached for the first photo.

  It was slightly hazy because it was night and at a distance, but there was no denying it was a picture of me—and Killian.

  Embracing.

  “Oh, gods…” Panic fluttered in my lungs, shadows edging around my vision.

  Flicking through the rest, they showed every moment of our kiss. An intimacy and ease between us.

  Frantically, I picked up another set. Ones of me standing at the window inside the bedroom Killian gave me. Some alone, some where he stood next to me, our bodies close and in conversation.

  My muscles quaked, my mind whirling with justifications about these images when Istvan interrogated me. He knew the whole time that I had come from Killian’s… he knew I was lying.

  My brain rolled with excuses I could tell him—that I had to fake interest in Killian to get away, that I was doing it all to save my life. It could have been feasible… except I had kept the fact I had even been there a secret.

  And he kept the fact he knew about my time with Killian from me. He let me walk right into it. It was something he did when trying to trip Caden and me up in a lie. He gave us the rope to do it ourselves.