33. Addie
ADDIE
PARAMORE – TELL ME HOW
A girl at Blackwing couldn’t do much, apparently.
Knowing there were cameras in the elevator meant Beck and I were stuck teetering on the edge of bold admissions and bad decisions. He relinquished my hand in order to jab the number four button and couldn’t pick it back up again without someone being aware of it.
Instead, we were forced to be content with the backs of our hands brushing up against each other. With the subtle caress of a thumb or pinky finger.
It wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
And I found myself wondering if another jab of magic medicine would allow me to experience enough. Unfortunately, I didn’t think so. But it sure as hell wouldn’t stop me from trying.
The doors dinged open and I practically raced Beck to the end of the hall.
My fingers tapped a rapid melody against my thigh as he struggled to find the right key and shove it into the lock.
In fact, he struggled so badly that evidence of his hardship could be heard from within the apartment, and Dek wrenched the door open so aggressively it tousled his emo-boy-band fringe.
His lethal expression dropped in an instant, registering two familiar—if not a little embarrassed—faces stuck out in the hallway.
“Dude, what the fuck are you doing? I thought you were some punk recruit trying to break in on their last night at Blackwing.”
“Or worse,” Evander grumbled from just inside the door, dagger raised and ready to strike. He blinked twice, eyes widening when he realised who Beck had brought home—decidedly not the girl he’d left with. “Addie, holy shit. What have they done to you?”
I jerked as if he’d slapped me, then frowned when Dek punched him.
“Not cool, dude. You know what Blackwing does to Swallows,” he said softly, voice tinged with a hefty dose of sadness.
“And they would have done a fucktonne more if I hadn’t smashed Marie’s machine,” Beck snarled, still furious at the callous bitch.
Dek’s face whipped round to mine, hazel eyes wide and a little… frightened? “No way, you got Marie?”
Beck grunted an affirmative. “I bribed Greta to assign her the others, though.”
He broke out into a grin. “Aww, shit yes! We get to hang out with Pyotr? That guy knows all the best secrets.”
“Careful what you wish for,” I mumbled, earning three vastly different stares for my trouble.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Van’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“It means let us in or no one will get any dinner around here tonight,” Beck said, grabbing my hand and guiding me into the apartment behind him. To my utter surprise, he didn’t let go until I was seated on the couch, comfortably propped up on a fluffy pink pillow.
Wait.
Fluffy? Pink? Since when did this apartment possess even a lick of colour that wasn’t grey, black, or brown?
I knew it couldn’t have been Beck, since he’d been attached to my hip all day, which left either the singer or the professor. I watched each of them closely, trying to decide who was being the weirdest.
Both stood by the door—staring at me, staring at Beck—both realising something had changed but unable to deduce exactly what.
Beck returned with another needle, lips pursed in something too close to regret.
“Give it here,” I demanded, holding out my hand like a platter.
He shook his head. “No. You did the last one and busted yourself up pretty good. If you think I’m about to let that happen again, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for.”
“And she’s pretty damned smart,” Van muttered, crossing the room to drop into the empty space beside me.
He held out his hand as Dek sat on my other side, throwing an arm over the back of the couch behind me.
“We’ve got it, Beck,” Van said. “You go do your kitchen thing and cook us something good for dinner this time.” He winked, knowing the jab would land and Beck wouldn’t stand for culinary slander.
As it was, he debated with himself for a few seconds, then relinquished the needle with a sigh. “Any requests, Ice?”
Suddenly I was hungry for so much more than food.
“Something bad for me,” I hummed, holding a smirk at bay. “Something I’ve never had before, and will probably regret in the morning.”
His eyes darkened as my core simmered. “You wouldn’t regret anything of mine in the morning, ‘cause it’d be there in the morning for you to devour as well.”
“Fuck,” I whispered, ignoring the charged glances shot past my face as Dek and Van exchanged disbelieving looks.
“I want what she’s having,” Dek drawled jokingly, shifting in his seat to adjust his crotch.
Beck turned his dark glare on his friend, significantly colder than the one he’d given me. “Do you?”
“Actually, no. I want what you’re having,” he answered, dismissing Beck, then locked eyes with me.
Reeling, I leaned back, accidentally slipping into the crook of his extended arm. He took full advantage of the opportunity and dropped said arm around my waist, dragging me closer to him and further away from Van.
I turned to the professor, hoping for a lifeline. And I got one in the most heartaching of ways.
His expression chilled me. It was so venom-filled, so hate-filled that I retreated further into Dek’s embrace.
What had I done to deserve the professor’s ire?
His upper lip curled as he flicked the cap of the needle off. It rolled away on the floor, forgotten and discarded—like I soon would be.
“Ready?” he snapped, flicking the hem of my shirt up whether I was or not. With absolutely no hesitation, Evander stuck the needle into the area my uterus used to occupy, then pressed the plunger down to its hilt.
As before, I collapsed immediately—this time overcome by profound fatigue rather than debilitating pain.
Before unconsciousness claimed me fully, three disembodied voices followed me into the dark.
“Dude, what the fuck did you do that for?”
“Evander, you better have a fucking good reason for that.”
A pause. Then, “They stole her. Changed her. She doesn’t look like Addie anymore and I hate it—more than I thought I would.”
“Okay, but don’t take it out on her!”
“You’re gonna have to get used to it. We don’t get to keep her for much longer.”