Chapter 42
chapter
forty-two
Ender
Ihave Haven in my lap. My fingers are tracing her body like a starving man. I should have better control of the situation, but ever since I found out that she came here with Grayson Sullivan and walked into the club on his arms instead of mine, I’ve been ill.
Rage built like a wildfire inside me, forcing me to act out of character.
I indulge for a few minutes, feasting on her mouth and swallowing her sweet moans. Her fingers trace my abdomen, coiling around my belt, before I capture her delicate wrist.
“You’re drunk, sunshine,” I say.
“I’m not,” she says.
“What’s 24 x 9?” I ask.
“That’s not fair,” she says. “I wouldn’t know that sober.”
A chuckle escapes me, and I pat her thigh before placing her in her seat.
“You’re no fun,” Haven mumbles.
The drive home is long and unbearable.
My eyes keep straying towards her. Her head is lying on the window, and before I know it, she’s fallen asleep. I brush aside her hair so I can see her face better.
She looks so innocent when she isn’t spewing venom and fighting me at every turn.
I pull into the driveway and scoop Haven into my arms; her head falls into the crook of my neck. Her breathing is soft and warm. My chest tightens when I look down at her. Why does she look so perfect nestled in my arms, and why do I have this sudden urge to protect her?
I carry her to the guest room and place her down on the mattress. I head to my bedroom and return with a t-shirt. I place it over her head, dragging it over her dress to keep her warm. I brush back her hair and drag the covers over her when she tangles her arms around my neck.
“Ender,” she murmurs. “Don’t leave.”
I kick off my boots, ignoring the voice in my head telling me to reject her request, that it is a bad idea. But I can’t resist her when she looks at me with those doe eyes.
I pull my shirt over my head and start to fold it.
“I want that one,” Haven says, just before I toss it in the corner. She pulls at the shirt I gave her. “Not this one.”
I swap the shirts, not understanding why her drunk brain wants this one in particular, but I indulge her nonetheless. I slide into the bed and pull her close to my chest. For one night, I’d like to pretend that the weight of the world isn’t on my shoulders.
Haven’s fingers trace the veins on my forearm before she lifts it and sinks her teeth into my flesh.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, amused.
“No,” she says. “I couldn’t resist.”
“You’re very drunk,” I say.
“Mhmmm,” she mumbles. “And tired.”
Her fingers slide along my vein, tracing it to my bicep. Her touch skirts across the scar there. The one I got when she shot me. She must realize where it is from, because she stills.
“I thought you would have gotten this healed,” she says.
“I didn’t even get it checked,” I say. “Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten rid of the mark.”
“Why not?”
“I will never get rid of anything that you give me,” I say.
Even though she is exhausted, I don’t want this conversation to end. I don’t want morning to come, because I know she will never look at me like this again, she will never touch me so simply, as if I belong to her.
“I liked it when you told me about how you got your powers,” she whispers. “I felt like I knew you better.”
“I never told anyone that,” I admit.
“I was afraid, too.” She yawns. “Powers are scary.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“The day I was tested,” she says. “My mother was so worried.”
Oh, she means the testing. Most people are afraid of discovering they have powers. One’s life can change in the blink of an eye. Despite the Gifted believing there is nothing better than having powers, some people fear it.
“I’m surprised you and your sister are not Gifted. Your father is a Kinetic,” I say. “Powers are more likely when the mother and father are both Gifted, but there is a twenty-five percent chance if one parent is Gifted.”
“Would you like me more if I were Gifted?” Haven asks. “Everyone says I am weak, that I am undeserving of being in Black Star.”
“You are the strongest person I know, Warrick,” I say. “And I’ve trained alongside some of the Continent’s best. Powers don’t determine your grit and strength, practice and a willingness to show up every day do.”
“You never answered my question,” she says. “Would you like me more?”
I hesitate, and the words sit heavy on my tongue. A truth I never processed myself slips out of my mouth before I can swallow it.
“I can’t imagine liking you any more than this,” I confess.
I fear and desire her in equal measure.
Haven smiles, and the weight on my chest loosens. Her reaction makes me feel better about my answer.
I’m not certain if she’ll remember this tomorrow or if my words will stick with her. But for now, it comforts her. I said the right thing for once. I didn’t upset her.
She settles under the sheets, a yawn stretching her lips.
“Sleep,” I command.
“So bossy,” she mumbles.
And then she’s sound asleep, following my orders even when she doesn’t want to.
My perfect little soldier.
Mercy is pacing by my bedroom when I slip out of Haven’s arm.
“Ender,” she says, relieved. “Can we talk?”
“You will address me as Commandant or sir,” I say. “You don’t have my permission to use my first name.”
“But why?” Mercy asks, confused. “We’re family. You’re engaged to my sister.”
“Because I said so.”
“Fine, sir,” she says, slowly, as if the title is a waste of her time. “Is Haven okay?
“She’s fine,” I say. “You may speak to her when she wakes up.”
Her eyes brighten.
“She’s here?”
I came out to tell the housekeeper to set an extra placemat for breakfast.
“Ende—sir?” Mercy begins.
“What?” I ask, irritated.
Mercy hesitates.
“Don’t hurt her,” she says. “She’s tough because she has to be.
I was never brave enough to fight my own battles, so Haven had to protect me.
And when our mother died, she took care of me.
She even went to the Forge, because she knew I wouldn’t survive it.
Everything she did was to keep me safe. Just…
leave her alone. Please. She’s all I have. ”
I don’t know what to say to that. It might be too late to keep her sister safe. Whatever is going on between Haven and me can’t be stopped.
It doesn’t help that I still don’t trust Haven’s motives or intentions. She is hiding something. I just don’t know what. But that won’t stop me from claiming her.
“I see,” Mercy says. Her features harden. “You have no intention of leaving her alone. Haven should be with someone good. Gray has always liked Haven, and she hi—"
“Don’t you dare mention his name before me,” I warn.
“You don’t deserve her,” Mercy says.
She spins on her heels, heading to the guest rooms. I curse under my breath before I head downstairs.
If that girl whispers one bad word about me to Haven, she’s going to wish she had never been born.
Breakfast is tense.
The twins keep shooting each other looks that I can’t read. They dressed identically. One in a black collared dress and the other in a white one. To no doubt throw me off. But I am undaunted by their silly games. I find it quite amusing that they are attempting to confuse me.
I know exactly which one of them is mine. And I don’t even have to pull back the fabric of her gown to find her unique birthmark.
“So, who is who?” the one on the left asks.
I glance at them both.
They brushed their hair the same way and are wearing the same calm impression.
Knox enters and staggers at the sight of them.
“Whoa,” he says. “Freaky.”
“Who is who?” the one on the right asks.
Knox points to the one in the black dress. “Haven, of course,” he says. And then the one in the white dress. “Mercy, darling?”
“No,” I say. “It’s the other way around.”
Haven’s head turns to me, brows raising in surprise.
“How did you know?” she asks suspiciously.
“I know you,” I say evenly.
A grape hits my shoulder, and I glare at Haven.
“Manners,” I say sharply.
Another grape hits my nose.
Brat.
“Tell me how you knew?” she pushes. “How do you always know?”
I didn’t always know. Not the first time.
And the second time, it was her birthmark.
But now it would be impossible not to tell them apart.
Haven has the posture of a soldier. She is rigid and cautious.
Her eyes scan the room, her fingers drumming softly on the table as she silently counts the enforcers passing the rear and front windows.
I don’t even think she knows that she does that. It’s just a habit.
In that way, we’re alike.
But even if her behavior didn’t give her away, the truth is that I find her more beautiful. I like how her eyes are hard and her lips teasingly soft.
One might argue that they are identical, but the second my gaze meets Haven’s, I lose all my senses.
Her sister grins freely, but when Haven smiles, it’s like the sun peeking behind a gray cloud.
It’s why I call her sunshine, half the reason is to poke fun at her salty disposition, but the rest is pure fact.
I move aside, evading the next grape.
“Enough of this nonsense, we have to leave.”
“What’s the rush?” Haven asks.
“We just caught a rebel who is finally ready to squeal,” I say. “I’m going to know exactly who the traitor in our ranks is by this afternoon, and I will put a bullet in their head myself.”
My father has been breathing down my neck about the recent failed missions. It’s like the Resistance is always one step ahead. Either that or they have an Untamed whose powers are tied to luck, because they keep getting away.
Haven looks uneasy. Her fork scrapes against the porcelain plate.
“I want you there,” I say. “In the interrogation room.”
Haven is, as Mercy said, softer than she appears. She has made it clear that she sympathizes with the rebels, but that doesn’t exactly confirm that she is a rebel. I need to weed out the weakness in her and make her a soldier worthy of being inducted into Black Star.
“Come on,” I say, pushing back my chair. “We have a traitor to capture.”