Chapter 45 #2
His pants are half off. His abs are sticky. So is my hand. I don’t care. I curl up beside him again, feeling his heart hammering beneath my ear, watching his chest rise and fall as his breathing steadies.
“I’m sorry for what I did.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and I instantly regret it when I feel him stiffen. But I forge on, needing to get this out.
“I was agonizing about it on the flight back here tonight, and I think I managed to make some sense of it. Every time I’ve used incitement in the past, it was by accident, and I always told myself that I would never, ever do it on purpose.
Steal someone’s will from them…” I bite my lip.
“But when my life was in danger at the Silver Jubilee, I didn’t even hesitate.
I incited Jayde to save myself, and I’ve felt like a monster ever since. ”
“Wren—”
“No, let me finish. I felt sick after I used incitement on Jayde. But not today. There was guilt, yes, and so much remorse for breaking my promise to you, but…” I gulp through my clogged throat.
“I don’t feel like a monster for trying to save your life.
In my head, there was literally no other choice.
I’m sorry I did that to you, but I’m also not sorry.
Or at least a part of me isn’t, because it feels like this is the first time I used incitement for something good. To help someone.”
Gray goes quiet for a second. Then he lets out a breath.
“Fuck. I’m furious that you did that to me.
But I also hate the thought of you believing you’re a monster.
Because you’re not. You did what you did today because you wanted me and Evlynne to be safe.
I get that. I would’ve done the same thing. ”
“So you don’t hate me?” I whisper against his shoulder.
“Never.”
His lips brush the top of my head in a reassuring kiss.
“Stay the night,” he says, and I answer by burrowing closer to him.
I wake up the next morning in Gray’s bed. He’s sprawled on his stomach, his bare ass making me grin. He threw off the blanket sometime during the night. I had to scramble in the darkness to try to scrounge it off the floor and then cocooned myself in it while he lay naked beside me.
I’m careful not to wake him as I slide out of bed. I hate putting my dirty, still-damp-from-the-jungle clothes back on, but I can’t be seen leaving Gray’s quarters in his shirt. I dress quietly, then shove my feet into my boots and head for the living room. He doesn’t stir.
I step outside, gently closing the door behind me. I’m so focused on remaining quiet and not waking him that I neglect to notice I have company until her footsteps are right behind me.
I turn around and freeze.
Karra is standing a few feet away. Her gaze rests on Gray’s door, then shifts to me. Her expression darkens for only a split second before her mouth twists in a sardonic smirk.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Karra,” I start. Then stop, as I realize there’s nothing I can say to appease her.
It’s been a couple of weeks since they broke up, and last night was the first time Gray and I went further than kissing. But we did kiss the night he ended things with her, and for that I do feel guilty.
“It’s fine,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t care if you hook up with him. Have fun.”
She doesn’t sound all that angry or concerned, which surprises me.
“Look, I don’t want to make things awkward,” I say. “I know you two have been on and off for a long time.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, and we’ll probably be on again at some point.”
I get the message, loud and clear. He’s not yours. I’ll get him back.
“So if you want to warm his bed in the meantime,” she finishes, “go for it.”
“Until he gets sick of me?” I say sarcastically.
“No, until you get sick of him.”
That startles me.
“Because you will,” Karra tells me. She smiles, as if she has a secret that only she knows. “I’m the only one who’s willing to accept it.”
“Accept what?”
“Grayson Blake. He’s not the type to do anything other than the bare minimum. He’s not capable of real feelings or love or any of that shit.”
I frown at her.
“You’ll find out for yourself. All he wants is to keep things light and physical. Nothing ever gets deep. And if it does, he’ll just ground those emotions away so you’re feeling light and happy again.”
A groove digs into my forehead. “And you’re satisfied with that?”
She gives another shrug. “I don’t need anything more.”
I honestly can’t tell if she’s being genuine or not.
“Most women want more, though.” Karra’s gaze meets mine. “You strike me as someone who will want more.”
“Do I?” I like to think I put on a hard front, that I don’t need things like emotions and gooey feelings, but deep down, I think I do. I wonder how Karra can see that.
“You’re intense,” she says, laughing. “You hide it, but you feel things. You’ll want him to feel things, too, but he won’t, and not many people can handle that. So if you want him, go ahead. He’s all yours.”
At that, Karra saunters down the corridor. I stare at her retreating figure, trying not to let her words affect me.
After my afternoon work assignment at the range, I leave the Dagger and walk to the aviary in search of Poppy.
I’ve been trying to link with her all day, but she’s shutting me out telepathically, so I decide to track her down in person.
I know she likes to spend most afternoons here, but when I arrive at the aviary, the woman who runs it, Scarlett, tells me Poppy hasn’t been there in weeks.
“Not since Didi died,” Scarlett says, and I think of the bossy raven that Poppy introduced me to months ago. I know Didi was one of her favorites.
“What happened?” I ask in concern.
“We’re not sure. Poppy found the body. Could have been a heart attack or any other number of things.”
Dismayed, I attempt to link with Poppy again, and this time, she finally allows it.
“Where are you?” I ask her.
“Picking flowers in the clearing.”
“Do you want some company?”
“If you want.”
It’s not a ringing invitation, but I’m worried about her, so I follow the winding trail toward the clearing where she likes to pick her flowers. All the deadly violet bells are gone for the season, thankfully, but the crimlock is still going strong.
“Are those for your mom?” I join Poppy by the tall grass, gesturing to the cluster of pink and yellow wildflowers in her hand.
“Yeah.”
I grin. “I hope Fiona appreciates having a daughter like you. I never would’ve dreamed of picking flowers for my uncle. He would’ve laughed in my face.”
“Your uncle? You mean Kallister’s brother?”
“Yeah. Did you ever meet him? Julian?”
She shakes her head. “Was he nice like Kallister?”
The words nice and Jim don’t belong in the same sentence, so I can’t help but snicker. “No. He was kind of a prickhole. If he didn’t like you, he made it known.”
“Sort of like my mom.” Poppy rolls her eyes.
“He was overprotective like your mom, too. Anytime I wanted to do something with even a hint of risk, he’d shoot me down.
He wouldn’t let me work for the Uprising.
If he thought a boy and I were getting too close, he’d drive up in his truck and drag me home.
He did everything he could to keep me safe on the ranch.
But you know what happens—the tighter the hold, the harder you want to break free. ”
Poppy dons a faraway expression. “You felt it, too? Trapped?”
“Yes, and I hated it. But…it also taught me a really good lesson.”
She regards me curiously.
“That it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission,” I say with a wink.
A smile stretches across her face. “You disobeyed him?”
“Sometimes.” I pause. “Often,” I correct. “Never anything that would truly put us in danger, but yeah, I’d sneak out on my bike. Go to the village, get drunk with my friend Tana.”
Tana and I used to steal synthetic whiskey from the pub in the village square, where her father worked.
Later, I’d return to the ranch and bat my eyelashes at Uncle Jim and say, Please don’t be mad at me.
He never fell for it. You couldn’t manipulate Jim Darlington.
Unless your name was Marina Serrano, maybe.
I still can’t fathom how my mother was able to inspire such loyalty from him.
The only explanation I can think of is…love makes you do stupid things.
Poppy suddenly jerks, and I don’t need to see her veins to know her mom is speaking to her.
“I have to go back,” she says glumly. “Mom wants me to practice my shielding in the Temple.”
Fiona is always harping on Poppy to keep up with her training. I feel bad for the teen, but I can’t deny that the training has worked. I’ve opened a path into her mind before to get a sense of her shield, and it’s so strong I’ve never even tried to penetrate it. Looks like it would be a real chore.
We return to the Dagger, but it’s such a nice day and I’m not ready to be indoors yet, so I head out to the Ledge with my tablet.
I recently discovered that the digital library has fiction books I’ve never even heard of, including a fantastical series about mystical creatures and evil monarchies.
I never thought I cared about fairy tales, but I’m absolutely enthralled with this story and want to see what happens.
I don’t get a chance to read a word, however, because Evlynne is on the Ledge when I walk outside.
She’s crying.
The moment she sees me, she hastily wipes her face with her sleeve, trying to hide the tears. Too late. I already saw them.
“Everything keen?” I ask her.
“Fine,” she mutters.
“You sure? Because you don’t look fine.” I take a tentative step toward her. “Is this about your son?”
Instantly, her expression turns thunderous.
“Sorry,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I know you told me not to bring him up, but…” I give an awkward shrug. “I didn’t say anything about this before because I didn’t want to intrude, but something happened with Fisher the day we saw you in the valley.”
Concern instantly creases her features. “What happened? What did he do?”
What did he do.
The question itself speaks volumes.
“He read my mind, and I assure you, nobody reads my mind unless I let them. I trained with Julian Ash—my shield is pretty much impenetrable.” I pause. “Fisher’s only six?”
Evlynne nods, misery in her eyes.
“And he’s that strong a mind reader?”
It doesn’t seem like she’s going to elaborate, or even speak for that matter, but then she releases a troubled breath, and the words tumble out.
“I didn’t think I needed to worry when he first started manifesting. Didn’t seem like a big deal. I know when young children manifest abilities, it usually means they’re going to be strong, but that’s not always the case.” She peers up at me, as if she’s trying to convince me.
She’s not wrong. Cross had an aptitude for telepathy when he was eight, and that was as far as it went for him.
On the other hand, I had four abilities by the age of five, so…
“I guess I was hoping it wouldn’t happen,” she says, “but I was giving him his bath last night and it was there. On the sole of his foot.”
I wrinkle my forehead in confusion. “What was there?”
“His bloodmark.”