18. Cat
18
CAT
D ean and I skip the rest of the afternoon of classes. We go up to the Bell Tower and Dean spends two hours exercising his aggression on my body, before we lay under a pile of blankets just holding each other.
It’s freezing in the drafty tower, but Dean’s body heat is always more than enough for both of us.
He tells me everything, from the moment he stepped foot in the Chancellor’s office, to his encounter with Snow, to his relief at seeing me afterward.
I barely recognize this man who speaks to me with such raw honesty. Just last year Dean wanted to kill me for witnessing him in an emotional moment. Now he tells me all his darkest fears and deepest regrets .
“He died alone,” Dean says, his deep voice vibrating against my ear as I lay my head on his chest. “I can’t help but feel I’m bound to do the same. Everyone leaves me, Cat. They always have.”
“I don’t think your father wanted to die,” I murmur. “I just don’t think he knew how to live.”
“I don’t want to be like him,” Dean says. “A prisoner to the past.”
“You’re already letting go of it.”
“Only sometimes.”
I wish I knew how to help him better.
I can hear his heart beating against my ear. A strong heart. A steady one. Not shrunken and twisted by time, despite all that’s happened to him.
“You’re wearing the necklace,” Dean says, pleased.
“It’s my favorite gift I’ve ever received,” I tell him.
The necklace is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever held in my hands. I like it all the more for what it symbolizes between Dean and me: erotic connection, and the violent secret that brought us together.
I don’t feel the same guilt about Rocco Prince anymore.
It ebbed away, bit by bit, with every day I spent with Dean .
“I think our sex has been therapeutic,” I say to Dean.
He chuckles. “For you or for me?”
“Maybe both.”
He sits up on his elbow so he can look at me, his violet eyes keen and curious.
“Why do you like it?” he says. “The rough sex . . . the domination.”
“At first I liked it because I felt guilty. I felt like I deserved to be punished for what I did. At the same time, it felt so good . It heightened every sensation—I’d never experienced anything so intense. The stronger you were, and the more aggressive, the more it made you seem god-like, superhuman. And that made me want to please you . . .”
“Go on . . .” Dean grins.
I can feel his cock stiffening again against my hip, though we only just finished fucking.
“There’s this other part of it, too,” I say. “It’s the way you focus on me, when we’re doing kinky shit. It’s like I’m the only thing in the world. You’ll spend hours touching and manipulating me. I love the attention.”
“You are the only thing in the world,” Dean says seriously. “You’re all I have now, Cat. ”
I can’t believe he’s looking at me with that expression of utter focus. I can’t believe he’s saying those words to me.
For all the time I’ve spent with Dean, I still find it baffling that someone as ferocious as him could fall in love with someone like me. Some days I think I’ve grown so much. But others, I still feel terrified inside.
Like right now.
I want this to be real.
I don’t know what I’ll do if it isn’t.
I touch the pendant laying in the divot of my collarbones.
“I never got you a Christmas gift,” I say.
“I didn’t expect you to,” Dean says. “The only thing I want is exactly what I’m getting. You, naked, obeying my every command . . .”
He kisses the side of my throat, then slowly works his way down my body.
Before I lose myself in the sensation, I think to myself that there must be something I can do for him . . .
Saturday morning, I walk down to the village with Dean .
The village clusters in a half-moon around the harbor, the buildings green and mossy, the street unpaved, because there’s no cars on the island. The students like to walk down here in good weather to pick up letters at the post office, eat the fresh-caught cod at the fish and chips shop, or visit the tiny cafe for tea, biscuits, and hand-made caramels.
Today is not particularly good weather, so Dean and I are two of the only people willing to brave the wind.
We stop in briefly at the second-hand bookstore where Dean has been trading in his well-read novels for any he can’t find at the school library.
Upon better acquaintance with Dean, one of the many things that surprised me is that he reads at least one novel every week, in addition to all his schoolwork. Or at least, he used to before he started spending so much time with me.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, since he places top in his class in marks. I knew he wasn’t just a dumb boxer.
“There aren’t any dumb boxers,” Dean informs me, as he picks through the pleasantly-musty piles of books. “Or least, not any good ones. Boxing requires strategy. It’s not so different from chess.”
“They might not start out dumb,” I tease him. “But after all those hits to the head . . . ”
“Careful,” he growls, giving me a sharp little smack on the ass. “Don’t think you’re safe just because we’re in public . . .”
My bottom is already bruised from our last session. Dean has been especially aggressive this week, probably because he’s still upset about his father, much as he tries to hide it.
I don’t mind. I’ve never cum more times than I did last night, and if an aching ass is the only price, then I’ll gladly pay it. In fact, I’ll probably do it again tonight . . .
The owner of the store clears his throat and gives us a stern look over the top of his glasses. I don’t know if he heard us, or if he just hates joviality. He’s been watching us the whole time we’ve been in his shop, sighing with the air of someone forced to entertain unwanted visitors.
At least his big gray tabby cat is welcoming. It keeps winding itself in and out of Dean’s legs, trying to trip him in the friendliest way.
“What are you looking for?” I ask Dean.
“I dunno.” He shrugs. “Whatever catches my eye.”
“You ever read this one?” I hold up Persuasion.
“No,” he says. “I read Pride and Prejudice , though. Actually, I kept thinking of a line from that book when I met you.”
“What line?” I say .
Dean searches the Austen books, finding Pride and Prejudice and flipping through it until he locates the line in question.
“This one—‘ No sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardly had a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes .’ ”
I slap him on the shoulder, earning another disapproving grunt from the shop owner.
“ ‘ Hardly a good feature in her face! ’ ”
Dean laughs, grabbing my hands so I can’t smack him again.
“Not that part—the bit about the dark eyes, and how they show your cleverness. I can always see what you’re thinking from your eyes.”
“Oh yeah? What am I thinking right now?”
“You’re thinking you want me to kiss you.”
“That’s too easy. I always want that.”
Dean obliges, with zero care for the irritation of the shop owner.
Then he buys Persuasion on my recommendation.
The shop owner wraps the book in paper as protection against the sleet. Dean tucks it under his arm, taking my hand with his other .
We have to push hard against the door to exit into the wind.
As we cross main street, we overtake Miss Robin leaving the post office.
“Morning, Cat!” she says, trying to hold back her frizzy red hair from blowing all around her face. “And Dean, of course.”
“Good morning.” Dean nods.
“Where are you two off to?”
“The cafe,” I say. “Do you want to join us?”
“I won’t interrupt your date. But I’ll walk along with you so I don’t blow away.”
I take Dean’s book so he can offer his other arm to Miss Robin.
“Didn’t think we’d see anyone else down here,” Dean says.
“You almost didn’t. That last gust just about carried me off.” After a moment she adds, “Dean, I heard about your father. I’m so sorry.”
I suppose the Chancellor told her. Being his niece, she might have been the first to know.
“It’s fine,” Dean says stiffly. “It won’t distract me from my studies.”
“It would be understandable if it did,” Miss Robin says gently .
We’ve almost reached the cafe. As I stretch out my hand to open the door, it bursts open from the inside. Fighting the pressure of the wind, Snow and Sasha tumble out, laughing at the awful weather.
“Oh, hello!” Sasha says, before they can stumble into us. “How are?—”
She breaks off, regarding Miss Robin with a startled expression.
“Julia, have you met my wife?” Snow says. “Sasha Rybakov.”
Miss Robin holds out her hand to shake. Unlike Sasha, she shows no hint of discomfort.
Sasha takes her hand and grasps it briefly.
“Nice to meet you,” she says.
“I won’t keep you all in this.” Miss Robin nods toward the windswept street. “Enjoy your tea, Cat and Dean, and enjoy the rest of your day, Sasha and Snow.”
Miss Robin heads off down the street in the direction of Kingmakers, while Snow holds the door for Dean and me so we can enter the cafe.
I linger in the doorway, watching Sasha stare down the street after Miss Robin .
After Dean and I have ordered and selected our table in the corner, I say, “That was odd.”
“What?” Dean says, already attacking his scone.
“When Miss Robin and Dr. Rybakov met.”
“What about it?”
“You didn’t think the doctor seemed—alarmed?”
“Why, ‘cause Miss Robin’s pretty? So’s Sasha. She’s got nothing to worry about, Snow’s crazy for her.”
“It felt off somehow.”
“Maybe because we were in the middle of a tornado,” Dean laughs.
“Could be,” I say, stealing his scone and taking a bite.
“Have the whole thing,” Dean offers. “I’ll order another.”
That afternoon, I ambush Rakel in our room.
“I need your help,” I say.
“I’d like to, but I’m extremely busy at the moment. ”
Rakel is reading her favorite graphic novel for the twenty-eighth time while eating oranges in bed. The whole room smells of citrus.
“Come on,” I coax her. “It’s a computer thing, and you’re better at it.”
Rakel holds her place with one long, dangerously pointed fingernail and glances over at me.
“I haven’t beaten you at a programming challenge in weeks.”
“This is something different.”
“You’re being mysterious because you want to intrigue me.”
“Is it working?” I grin.
“Maybe. I’ll help you?—”
“Yay!”
“IF you do something for me.”
“What?” I say suspiciously.
“Go to the dining hall and get me four more oranges.”
“What!” I groan. “It’s hideous out there.”
“I know. That’s why it’s a good trade.”
“You already ate . . .” I try to count the towering stack of peels, “ . . . a whole fuck-load of oranges. ”
“Nature’s candy,” Rakel says, returning to her novel and turning another page.
“I’m gonna freeze.”
“You’ll stay warm if you run really fast.”
Grumbling, I sprint up the stairs and then dash across the lawn with my jacket pulled tight around me. I already froze my ass off walking to and from the village with Dean. After this second excursion, I’m going to need a solid hour huddled under a blanket just to thaw out.
I steal as many oranges as I can stuff in the pouch of my sweatshirt, then I run back to the Undercroft, cursing Rakel’s extortionary tactics the entire way. She’s been paying a little too much attention in Professor Owsinki’s class.
“Here, you fucking terrorist,” I say, dumping the oranges down on her lap.
“Great,” Rakel says. “I’ll help you when I’m done eating them.”
“RAKEL!”
“Alright, alright.” She grins. “Tell me what you want.”
I take a deep breath. “I need to find somebody. But I only have a small amount of information about her. And she might be in hiding.”
Rakel considers. “Is Miles’ satellite still working? ”
“Yeah, as far as I know.”
Miles and Ozzy set up their own private network on the island so they’d have constant internet access outside of the limited and highly-monitored connection available through the school computer lab.
Rakel keeps Ozzy’s old laptop hidden under her mattress. It looks like it’s been through a war but performs like a race car.
Though I’ve gotten pretty decent at my Code-breaking and Security Systems classes, Rakel is still the master at old-school hacking techniques. I hope she can put her skills to use on my behalf.
Rakel rolls off her bed so she can dig out the laptop, scattering orange peels everywhere.
Then she reseats herself, holding her fingers over the keyboard like a pianist about to play a concerto.
“Alright . . . what do you know about this person?” she says.