Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
NICOLE
Thank fuck, he's alive.
The field tent is chaotic but functional, buzzing with activity. Other competitors lie on cots, groaning or resting while green Gara clones flit between them.
Arture’s cot sits at the edge of the tent. I'd know him anywhere, despite the fact he looks like a Gerverstock; it's not just the mechanical arm and eye, but also the way he looks at me. Like I'm his lead mare, like I know what I’m doing and can keep him safe.
But he quickly drops his gaze, left hand curling into the side of the cot.
“Are you okay?” My words tumble out too fast, my heart racing.
The Selthiastock next to him looks up at me but doesn’t meet my eyes. His scales flicker with nervous excitement. “Esteemed female, he’s broken his legs in multiple places, but I’ve set the bones. His nanites will repair the damage overnight.”
The tight knot in my chest loosens. “Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome.” He slides to standing, finally meeting my eyes. His are turquoise blue-green with flecks of sapphire. “I’m the clone Arra-bellah named Ezla.”
“No way! You’re Gara’s big brother. Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand for him to shake.
He takes it but presses his big fingers on my pulse, as if that’s what I wanted. “His big brother… I suppose, in a way.”
Arture blurts at last, “You should leave. Now.”
Wow, was I stupid to run all the way down here nearly in tears.
“Well,” I say at last. “I guess you're fine, so I'll go.”
As I spin on my heels, Arture’s hand clamps on my wrist. “You’re not safe here,” he mutters, as though every word costs him something.
“Why? What’s going on?” I lean in, ducking closer to read his expression. “Did you see the Prif? Are these orders from her?”
His mouth snaps shut, his eyes darting away from mine.
Maybe that's it.
I sit down on a stool beside his cot. “Is it a memory?”
Arture winces, eye glowing faintly blue.
“You’re supposed to be in the talky portion of the games tomorrow,” I tease. Because he's starting to scare me.
“I literally couldn’t give a fuck about the games,” he snaps.
“Then why are you here?”
His lips press together in a firm line.
I grab his hand like I can help him out of the pit he’s in. “Speak, you’re not an animal. Tell me what you need if you can.”
His eye swims with tears, his silence answering the question better than words could. How do I help him?
“You’ve got orders from Samara, haven’t you?” I shouldn't press him; I already know the truth by what he's communicating to me through his body language. Whatever orders he’s got, they’re bad.
His whole body tenses. “I… I can’t.”
I'm so fucking done with her. I squeeze his hand in mine. “I know how hard it is to fight what your head says. It’s probably not exactly the same, because no one’s head is, but you need to know, you’re not alone.
If you can’t fight it, fight her, then work with your brain.
You’re smart, I bet you can think a way out of—”
He tears his hand from mine. “I can’t! I managed to think my way past the other orders, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.”
My heart drums. “You’ve thought your way out before?”
He grits his teeth. “I took you to the All-Mother, and then I went to see Samara. Then when I saw her, it was from a distance, so I didn’t bother her.”
“Smart cookie,” I praise him. “You can do it again. I wish you'd see how strong you are—”
He shakes his head. “You need to leave. Go back to Earth and never return.”
I take his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “But that’s the problem, Arture. I do want to see you again.”
He hunches his shoulders, turning away even though that has to be hurting his legs. Every signal he's giving me screams ‘fuck off.’ He abandoned me. Before that, he kidnapped me.
And yet.
“I shouldn’t feel this way about you,” I say.
He focuses on me, wary as a wild animal about to bolt. “You’re right, you shouldn’t. You’re smarter than that. Go now, get the All-Mother to take you home, and don’t look back.”
It’s clear the words hurt him, his right eye blazing before he puts a hand up to cover it. His left is a morass of sadness and anger, raging against the shackles binding him to a fate he never chose.
I lick my dry lips. “You can be… dangerous. Not just physically, but to my heart. You’re not just like me, someone trying to figure out this life and whether a partner fits into that.
You’ve got orders, hardwired into your brain by someone with an unknown agenda.
I’m caught in it now, whether I like it or not, but…
I know you, Arture. I’ve been wrong about people before, sure.
I was wrong about Logan, I didn’t see what he was doing until it was nearly too late.
“But I know I’m not just a mission for you to complete. And I know you have the strength to get up and walk away from her. If I can do it, you can do it.”
He gestures down at himself with disgust. “I’m destroyed, Nic-coal. I can’t fight this. You have to get to safety.”
“And what about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.” He looks away, jaw set. Exhaustion drags every muscle down, strained with not only physical pain but mental and emotional, too. I want desperately to pick him up and whisk him away, help him through this trauma slowly and carefully.
First, I need him to see what I see. When I look at him, lying broken as he said but not defeated. He doesn’t believe he’s strong, but he’s stronger than anyone else I’ve ever met, able to work through his traumatic incident with the stampede and making me feel so safe and, yes, loved.
He doesn’t think he’s worth fighting for, but he is.
The ache in my chest won’t let me ignore him anymore. I want to be close to him, to chase away the doubt in his eyes, to tell him with more than words that he’s not alone in this fight.
I don’t even realize I’ve climbed into the cot until I’m close enough to feel his breath against my lips.
This is stupid. Reckless.
But I don’t care anymore.
“Arture, look at me.”
His gaze slides toward me, but he snaps it back into place, staring at the tent fabric.
I take a deep, shuddering breath. “Tell me you want me to leave, and I will. But please make sure it's you telling me, and it's what you really want.”
“I… can't.” It costs him a lot to say, his face contorted with pain.
I am so going to smash Samara in the face when I see her.
I stand up. “I’m going to find this Prif and have a quiet word.”
“Don’t!” He grabs my arm, pulling me back. I stumble and fall across on his chest and he’s there, holding my shoulders, cradling me close like I'm precious.
I look up, and he meets my eyes. There's conflict there—like he’s torn between pulling me closer and pushing me away.
He draws in a shaky breath, fingers trembling like he’s wrestling with himself, as if he’s trying to talk himself out of whatever he’s feeling.
Then his hand hovers just above my cheek. “Nic-coal, I… I shouldn’t…” His voice is barely a whisper, rough and strained.
I rest my hand over his, and his jaw clenches.
“I don’t… I shouldn’t…” he murmurs, voice thick with guilt, but his breath catches as I gently run my fingers over his scaled cheek.
“It's okay, Arture,” I say, putting all the reassurance I can into my voice.
He opens his eyes, and everything is laid bare. His pain, yes, and underneath a desperate hunger, a longing he’s tried so hard to hide, and can't keep contained any longer.
In one swift movement, he closes the distance between us, his lips capturing mine with a desperate fervor.
I'm pretty sure all the clones are staring, but the moment his lips touch mine, the world tilts. My doubts, my fears, all get pulled away, and there’s nothing but the heat of his mouth and the way he unravels me completely.
His kiss isn’t just a touch, it’s a claim.
He’s slow at first, but the longer our lips linger, the more his restraint begins to crack, and he presses into me with a fierce, undeniable passion.
My hands tremble as I press them to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his twin hearts beneath my palms. I straddle him, because it’s too much and not enough all at once.
I’m weightless, like I’m caught in free fall, but he won’t let me hit the ground.
His hands find their way to my shoulders, fingers grazing my skin, but then his grip tightens. His breathing quickens, chest rising and falling against me as he surrenders.
His fingers come together behind my neck, cupping my head as he kisses me deeply, thumbs stroking my throat.
Tracing my jugular. His fingers tense, poised on my throat, pressing lightly. I moan into his mouth.
He rips his hands away and I fall against his chest.
“Get away from me.” His voice is breathless. Terrified. “You have to go. Go!”
“Arture, what's wrong?”
His hands grip the side of the cot, still staring at me.
At my neck.
I touch my throat where he'd put his hands.
What orders is he fighting?
“Go.” All he can push out is a strangled gasp as he lunges straight at me.
I retreat from years of practice with biters who suddenly turn and snap their teeth, and his legs buckle. He collapses to the floor, burning eyes fixed on me.
Clones throw themselves in his way, trying to protect me, but he shoves them aside with a single-mindedness that makes my breath catch.
“Arture!” I call. “It’s me. Stop!”
He doesn't stop. He slams clones out of the way, and I back up to the tent flaps. He closes the distance and his arms are around me, dragging me down. He ends up above me, his weight pressing me into the ground of the tent. His chest heaves as he breathes, his body trembling, every muscle taut.
He’s holding himself back with everything he is.
I stare up at him, my heart pounding, but not with fear. “You won’t hurt me,” I whisper, soft but steady. “I know you.”
For a moment, his face contorts, caught in a battle between rage and recognition. He croaks, “You don't know who I am. I don't even know myself.”
Clones lift him, pulling him away from me. “Let him go,” I order, but he rips away and flees out of the tent. “Arture!”
He’s already running, gait broken and uneven, his legs barely holding him up. He doesn’t look back.
“Female, are you alright?” Selthiastocks surround me, Parthiastocks making a perimeter, Gerverstocks glaring after Arture.
Whispers start. “He hurt a female. A female.”
“I'm not hurt,” I tell them. “Shaken, sure, but not hurt.”
Because, despite what he might think, he won't hurt me.
But I am going to hurt Samara.