Untamed

Chapter 35

chapter

thirty-five

Ender

“Where are you off to?” I ask.

I’m outside the building, smoking a cigarette. I don’t smoke; if ever, it’s a bad habit that I look down upon. But I haven’t been able to sleep properly since that failed mission.

I’ve been on edge, expecting a call from my father any day now. Ansel is keeping a closer eye on me than usual. Ever since my grand speech telling him to leave Haven Warrick alone and the reminder that he is beneath me, he has been unbearable.

Knox is drawing on his jacket, an annoyed look on his face, as he marches across the grounds.

“To bust a party,” Knox replies. “Can’t believe a few years ago we were a part of it and now we’re forced to break them up.”

“I’ve blocked out every memory of my time here,” I say.

He snorts. “Why? You had half the girls going feral for you. Rumor had it that your name was carved into the restroom walls. Hearts included.”

I don’t dignify that with a response, but I do join him to clear my head. We walk in companionable silence.

“You smoke now?”

“No,” I say. “It was a one-time thing.”

“You should talk to her,” Knox says.

I don’t respond.

“To Haven,” he adds. “She will understand if you apologize.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say between clenched teeth.

She came to the clinic the day before I was discharged. I passed her in the hall, but she didn’t even glance my way. She had a few books with her to read to Spider, who had just woken up. I had followed her to the door and watched as she gave him water and wiped his mouth with her sleeve.

The kindness in her eyes made my chest tighten. I wondered if she would have looked after me like that if I hadn’t pushed her away.

“So, can we grab a drink while—”

“Don’t even think about it,” I say sharply. “We are not setting a bad example.”

Knox sighs. “I figured.”

We know exactly where the spot is, because it is the same place we would have parties when we were recruits.

The roof of the Gifted dormitory. Music bleeds through the exit door before we even reach the top, the sound low and pulsing.

I can’t believe these idiots would do this when they know we’re on lockdown.

Do they not understand the gravity of the situation?

For the first time in years, the rebels are not hiding like ferrets in the dirt; they are attacking us openly. We have to be on high alert.

Knox opens the door, and that’s when I see her.

She’s wearing her pajamas. It’s supposed to be a sleeping shirt, but she’s rolled the fabric to expose her midriff, and her shorts are riding up her thighs, revealing her golden skin.

She’s standing on a barrel, a gin bottle in hand, laughing as the boys crowd around her like starving animals. I can see Grayson among her avid fans, whistling wildly as she sways her hips.

She tips the bottle to the crowd’s mouths, watching them drink with open amusement.

Something ugly twists in my chest.

My hands curl into fists at my sides. Red creeps into my vision as I push forward, shoving bodies out of my way without apology. Someone stumbles, another swears, but I don’t slow down.

Knox is on my heels.

“Ender, calm down,” he whispers.

I refuse to relax. Or acknowledge why I am behaving so irrationally.

Her eyes find mine and widen. She loses her footing, and I leap to catch her.

The world tilts as I skid forward on my knees, gravel tearing through my pants. My skin burns as I slam into the barrel. The doctor used her powers to heal the wound on my leg, but the new skin is still tender and itchy.

Haven crashes into my arms, warm and steady. Her fingers sink into my jacket.

“My savior,” she murmurs. “And tormentor.”

My jaw tightens.

“Ve—Mercy,” Grayson says. “Are you okay?”

“Back off,” I snap. “This is your fault. You’re not a recruit; maybe start acting like a soldier for once. I’ll see you in my office tomorrow.”

“I don’t answer to you. You are not my reporting officer,” Grayson says stiffly. “I’ll take her back to her room. She’s drunk, and you’re a stranger.”

“I know her far better than you do,” I say. “And the Forge is my jurisdiction; you will respect my rules.”

If Haven weren’t in my arms, I would throw the first punch to shut him up, and I’d use the second to immobilize him. But as it stands, I hold precious cargo and cannot indulge my whims.

“Leave him alone,” Haven says. “We were just having fun.”

I don’t look back, but I sense Knox on my heels.

“End this party,” I say.

“Good luck,” Knox says to Haven. “You’re going to need it.”

I walk away while Knox blocks Grayson, preventing him from doing something stupid like following me. I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to kill Sullivan.

She’s light. Too light. Her head lolls against my shoulder.

“Where are your clothes?” I ask.

Haven scoffs weakly. “Very funny.”

My anger flares again, sharp and scalding, as I carry her away from the roof and walk us in the direction of Block A.

“Did you enjoy tarnishing my family name? Ruining years of legacy by behaving unco—”

She giggles.

The sound stops me mid-sentence.

I hadn’t been expecting laughter. I’d been bracing for defiance. For fury. For insults.

“What?”

“I’m Mercy, not Haven. I have no ties to the Vale name,” she says. “Or did you forget?”

“Everyone knows that you are my sister-in-law,” I say. “You have an obligation to maintain appearances, and that means protecting our reputation.”

Another small laugh escapes her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, pressing her fingers to her mouth. “Please. Continue.”

“May I ask what you find so amusing?”

Haven reaches up, her unsteady fingers brushing my brow.

“You get this little crease when you’re angry,” she says thoughtfully, smoothing it with her thumb. “It’s kind of adorable.”

For once, I have no response. I’ve been called a lot of things, but adorable was not one of them. She tilts her head back, gazing up at the night sky as if it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

“This reminds me of the night Gray and I raided my father’s wine cellar,” she murmurs. “My head felt just like this. Light. Floaty. We spent the night on the lawn counting the stars.”

She points upward to the sky.

“Did he touch you?” I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral. Then, remembering she’s drunk, I add more sharply, “Tell me.”

Something tightens in my chest. My grip on her shifts. It’s firmer than necessary.

Haven avoids my question.

“When did you get your first tattoo?” she asks.

Her fingers start trailing my neck. She’s behaving strangely, which is to be expected, since she is drunk, but I feel out of my element right now, like I downed a bottle of alcohol and not her. My tattoos start just beneath my neck, because my father would kill me if I had them in any visible area.

A shiver follows her touch as she skims the neckline of my jacket.

“Why do you care?” I ask roughly.

I don’t usually take off my clothes around the recruits. The girls always make a fuss about it, and I don’t like the drama. It’s why I train alone during the morning. She must have seen it the day she crashed my session and demanded to see her sister.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says with a frown. “I’m not talking to you anymore!”

True to her word, she keeps quiet. I let out a deep sigh before I respond, against my will.

“I was sixteen.”

“Which one was your first?” she asks.

We’ve reached her bedroom in Block A. I hesitate just outside her door. She’s drunk. What if she falls off her bed and hits her head? Or slips on the way to the bathroom.

I can’t risk it. I have to look after her.

I spin on my heels and turn towards the opposite wing where my bedroom lies. I unlock the door with my thumbprint, eye scan, and then type in the numerical access code after. It’s the most secure room in the building. Nothing will hurt her here.

“Can I see your first tattoo?” Her fingers trace my neck. Whisper-soft and maddening. “Please.”

I set her gently on the bed.

“You’re tired,” I say. “Go to sleep.”

“I want to see it.” Haven pouts. “Right now!”

She’s a stubborn little thing. I’m not sure why I find her demanding tone so amusing. Anyone else, and I would have cut their tongue out for the disrespect.

“Will you sleep if I show you?”

“Yes,” she says, nodding with ridiculous enthusiasm.

I wonder, briefly, if bringing her here is a mistake. I’ve never brought anyone to my room. She sits on the corner of my bed, kicking her feet and staring at me with her big, moss-green eyes. Something in my chest lurches at the sight. I like her here, in my space, far more than I care to admit.

I unbutton my shirt slowly, giving in to her demands. Haven straightens, her eyes following my hands with unguarded interest.

My breath leaves me in a sharp exhale. She likes this.

“Don’t look at me like that, Warrick,” I say roughly.

“Why not?” she whispers.

“Because I only have so much self-control.”

I pull my shirt off my shoulder, then unbuckle my trousers just enough for her to see. The room is dim, forcing me to come closer so she can look. She leans forward, bracing her fingers on my hip to keep steady, staring in fascination at the word inked on my waistline in a small, crooked font.

Her breath stutters. The silence elongates.

Then she laughs.

She falls back against the mattress, laughing so hard that tears streak down her cheekbones.

“You cannot be serious,” she says between gasping breaths.

“It was the aftermath of a dare,” I reply flatly. “One I lost to Knox, of course.”

Years ago, I lost a stupid dare, before Spider began to indulge Knox’s silly games. The outcome resulted in me being forced to get the words ‘suck me’ inked just above my pelvis.

She pushes herself upright.

“Let me see it again.”

Against my will, my mouth lifts in a crooked smile as I indulge her. Haven dissolves into giggles once more, before she stills. Her eyes drift up my chest, studying the other designs on my torso.

“I like this one,” she says, tracing the serpent and dagger down my sternum. “And this one.”

Her fingers glide over my skin, leaving behind goosebumps in their wake. Every instinct in me screams to push her away, while the other half demands that I pull her closer.

I step back swiftly, my hand curling into a fist.

“Sleep,” I order. “Now.”

Her lips move, mocking my words. Her snark is intact despite her muddled mind.

“Very mature,” I drawl.

“I aim to please,” Haven replies.

She obeys me, slipping beneath the covers. I reach over and draw the blanket to her chest while she peers at me with a strange expression. Her eyes are big and owl-like in the dark. I adore them.

“What is it, sunshine?” I ask.

My tone softens as I try to figure out what is bothering her.

Her hands are straining to reach me, and I lower myself to my knees to speak with her. She places her hand on my cheek, fingers delicately tracing my cheekbone.

“I hate that you look like this,” she whispers. “It is unfair.”

“You’re one to talk,” I say. “I lose my breath when you’re around me. Every sensible thought flees me in your presence. You are the source of my every temptation. And the truth is, I have a terrible desire to possess you.”

It hits me then that her father was right about one thing: his daughter has a leash around my throat. One that grows tighter with each passing day. Nobody has ever had such complete and utter control over me. And she doesn’t even know the power she holds.

I capture her wrist, drawing her fingers away from my face. It is impossible to resist the urge to lean in. My body rebels at the idea of pushing her away. But I cannot allow myself to care for someone whom I don’t trust.

Haven Warrick is full of secrets, and I refuse to be another thing she hides in her chest of lies.