Blacklisted

  "Where are we going?" I asked. Were my words slurred? Even to myself I sounded far away, as if I stood in a tunnel. I wanted to see Shanel and tell her what had happened to her car.

  "You're going to bed. You're barely able to stand."

  "But--"

  "No buts. You can talk to Shanel in the morning. She'll probably be pissed about the car, and I don't want you to have to deal with that now. You've been through enough."

  I thought about arguing, then pressed my lips together. I'd reached my limit and we both knew it. "Okay."

  "I stay here a lot, so they keep a room ready for me." He stopped at an azure metal door with a swirling design etched around the frame. "This is mine."

  After a quick hand scan, the door slid open. We stepped inside and I gasped. Colorful murals decorated the walls. My eyesight was too hazy to make out all the details, just a rainbow of shades. A large bed with black silk sheets consumed the center of the room. A small rock waterfall pressed against the far end, emitting a peaceful rush of smooth, dappled liquid.

  A soft black fur rug--that was probably illegal to own--was draped over the floor. I didn't know which animal species. Most animals were on an endangered list; quite a few had died during the war with the Outers.

  "Wow," I said.

  "I know. I didn't do the decorating, but it suits me."

  "Me, too."

  Erik kissed my temple. "There's a shower to the right and clothes in the dresser. Use anything you want. I'll be in the room next door if you need me. Shout, and I'll come running."

  "Okay," I said with a chuckle, gazing longingly at the bed. Sleep. How wonderful that sounded. Thirty minutes ago, I hadn't thought I'd ever sleep in a bed again. I'd thought I'd be sleeping with corpses for all eternity.

  "Don't hesitate to call for me," Erik said firmly. "I mean it."

  I nodded. Erik lingered, watching me with tenderness and concern in his eyes, but he finally left. I remained in place for a long while. Here I was in Silver's house. Alive. With Erik seeing to my every need. Who would have thought I'd find myself in this position? Sure, people were chasing me. Sure, my parents would freak if they knew where I was. Sure, I'd almost died. That hardly seemed to matter at the moment.

  With a sigh, I trudged forward. The bathroom was bigger than my entire bedroom at home, with a silver-veined marble floor and chrome faucets. In the back, beside the toilet, was a command box. I punched the button for the shower and a dry enzyme spray began shooting from several nozzles.

  My limbs were shaky as I stripped and removed my bandage. The wound looked better than before, less red, less angry. Already scabbing. I stepped into the center of the shower, letting the spray cleanse me from inside out. The dirt and blood and sweat that had caked me dissolved instantly. Hmmm. A shower had never felt so delicious.

  I'd heard the wealthiest people in the world bathed in hot, steamy water. I think I would have preferred that, searing rivulets beating against my sore muscles, but oh well. I'd take what I could get.

  Finally clean, not a speck of grime on me, I padded to the dresser and pulled out a white T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Both were big on me but they were soft and comfortable. I was wearing Erik Troy's clothing. Someone pinch me. Or shoot at me. Or slap me around. I snorted. Been there, done that.

  Unable to stand a moment longer, I fell onto the cool sweetness of the mattress. Erik's spicy scent enveloped me, wrapping me in a sense of safety. Sleep claimed me in the next instant.

  *

  Drugging warmth surrounded me as surely as Erik's scent. Delicious warmth, welcomed warmth. "Hmm," I muttered under my breath, trying to wake myself up.

  There was a heavy weight pressing into the curve of my waist, but even that was something to be enjoyed. I wanted to linger in bed forever. But a nagging pain in my arm insisted I wake up.

  Sleep a little longer. So warm. So comfortable.

  Yes, just a little longer. No. Not longer. Ow. Ow, ow, ow. Take a pain pill, Robins!

  My eyelids fluttered open, soaking in the bright light of the bedroom a little at a time. The walls were multihued, not the plain gray of mine, and boasted of frolicking fairies and blooming forest murals. Where was I? Why did I hurt? I frowned.

  I stretched my good arm over my head and arched my back--and hit something solid. Frown deepening, I rolled over, unsure of what I'd find. My injured arm screamed in protest and I squeezed my eyes closed. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

  As the pain subsided, I opened my eyes and once again faced the world around me.

  Every cell in my body froze the moment I spied what I'd hit.

  There, beside me, was Erik. Sleeping soundly.

  Instantly all of last night's events flooded my mind. The shooting, the car chase...the kiss...being locked up, escaping...the kiss...

  Had we...no, I thought then. We hadn't. I would have known and Erik would not have taken advantage of me like that. He was too honorable. I knew that all the way to my bones. But more than that, I suspected he was desperate for someone to trust him, to believe in him, as no one in A.I.R. had done. Each time I'd mentioned that I trusted him, he'd given me a look of utter astonishment. And hope.

  No, he wouldn't have betrayed that. Much as I probably would have liked it.

  I reached out and brushed a stray lock of pale hair from his forehead. How peaceful he appeared. How relaxed. Like a little boy, not a hardened man. I was kind of glad he was asleep. I'd never woken up next to a guy before and didn't know quite how to handle myself.

  "Good morning," he said, his voice a sleep-warm purr.

  I yelped in surprise. Not asleep, after all.

  Chuckling, he slowly opened his eyes. Brown irises rimmed with black lashes peered at me. He rubbed a hand down his face, wiping away the sleep. "How's your arm?"

  "Hurts." His ease helped relax me and I softened into the mattress.

  "A little more paste and it should heal up nicely. How'd you sleep?"

  "Like the dead." I hadn't even felt him climb into bed. "I thought you were sleeping in the other room." There was no heat in my tone. Despite my surprise and slight nervousness, I was glad he was here.

  "I was. You must have had a nightmare, because you were tossing and turning and crying for help."

  Hope I hadn't said anything embarrassing. "Sorry."

  "I was happy to help," he replied with a warm grin.

  I couldn't help but return the smile with one of my own. He was just too sweet. Too cute. Too mine. For the moment, anyway. Kiss him. I bit my bottom lip. I couldn't kiss him with morning breath. Ugh. "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

  His brow puckered in confusion, but he nodded.

  "Don't move. I'll be right back." I lumbered from the bed, cringing when my bruises throbbed. I stumbled into the bathroom, where I searched until I found a toothbrush. There were several new ones, the disposable kind, still in their boxes. I picked the green one, opened the package, and brushed my teeth, all the while checking my appearance in the mirror. My hair was tousled, wild, and there were shadows under my eyes.

  "Good as it's going to get," I muttered. There, on the counter, were all the supplies I needed to fix my arm. Erik must have set them out for me. I applied the numbing paste, the stinky cream, the cooling gel, and finally the bandage. My lips inched into a smile.

  Ah. Sweet relief. No pain. I could concentrate fully on Erik. And kissing him. Practically vibrating excitement, I exited and stepped back into the room.

  Erik was not on the bed as I'd left him. Where had he gone? My excitement mutated into disappointment. A second later, however, he strode from the side door. I lost my breath. He looked good. Really good. He'd cleaned up, like I had, and now wore a pair of jeans, the adhesive strip unfastened. No shirt.

  His skin was bronzed, ripped. His tattoo stretched over his stomach, his belly button acting as one of the cat's eyes. Was it bad that I wanted to pet that cat?

  When he spotted me, he ground to a stop. His gaze became a dark inferno. I didn
't speak as I walked to the bed and lay back down. He did the same. We faced each other, not touching. Just knowing. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, an awakened river.

  I didn't want to let fear rule my life anymore. I didn't want to be a coward and not do the things I wanted most. And right now I wanted to kiss Erik Troy.

  Right now, I wanted everything he had to give.

  Still silent, I leaned toward him. As it turned out, I didn't have to say anything. He met me in the middle. Our lips meshed, both opening automatically. Our tongues thrust together and his warm, minty flavor danced across my tastebuds.

  One of his hands tangled in my hair, pulling me so close our teeth banged together. His other hand wrapped around my waist, trailing heat up and down my spine. Delicious heat.

  I flattened my palms on his chest and his tiny nipples speared me. I could feel the quickness of his heartbeat. His skin was hot, so hot. Burning. Our bodies pressed together--mmm, I wanted to arch and moan, did arch, did moan--and then he was rubbing against me.

  Hot before. Blistered now.

  I panted his name. "Erik. Erik."

  "I'm right here, baby." He cupped my breast, kneading.

  I gasped in surprised delight.

  "I want to make you feel good," he said.

  "I do. Promise." I continued to arch forward, back, forward again, unable to stop the actions. Moaned again. So badly I wanted to reach between us and feel him, really feel him, that part of him that made us different. I didn't, though. Too unsure. Hadn't done that before, didn't know if he'd like it. If I'd do it right.

  Where's the brave girl who kissed him?

  "Erik?"

  Someone said his name and it wasn't me. That barely registered in my brain, however. More kiss. More touch. More. Just more.

  "Erik? You up, man?"

  Who was--?

  "Erik?"

  Erik stiffened and pulled away from me. His breathing was ragged. He pressed a button on the black box perched on the nightstand. "Yeah, Silver. I'm up."

  "Breakfast will be ready in fifteen."

  My gaze locked with Erik's. His expression tightened, the fine lines around his mouth straining. "Thanks." He pressed the button again.

  Several minutes passed and neither of us uttered a word. I used the time to get myself under control. Breathing--slow, easy. Skin--cooling degree by degree. Hunger--stubborn, remaining.

  "I, uh, should probably call my parents," I said. Now there was a sobering thought. "I need to let them know when to expect me." And that I'm okay, in case A.I.R. had finally contacted them.

  Slowly Erik frowned. "I don't know, Camille. You're in deep now and your parents could be used against you." He pondered it for a moment. "What did they think you were doing last night?"

  I sat up and shook my head, hair tumbling down my back, tickling. "They thought I was staying the night with my friend, Tawny."

  He relaxed against the pillow. "All right. Call them and tell them you want to stay another night with Tawny."

  "But I don't really have a friend named Tawny," I admitted, biting my bottom lip. "Shanel and I made her up so we could stay out all night. I didn't worry about them trying to call her so late at night, but they might try to call sometime during the day."

  Erik regarded me for a heartbeat of time before bursting into laughter. "Hard to picture you lying to Mommy and Daddy."

  "I know," I mumbled. "I'm a menace."

  "You keep this up and you'll soon be picking fights and taking names."

  I rolled my eyes, but I'd be lying if I claimed I didn't like the image. Me, kicking ass. Oh yeah.

  Erik's serious edge returned and he said, "You can't go home yet, Camille. A.I.R. will be watching your house, waiting."

  Sighing, I rubbed my temples to ward off a sharp ache. "They could have contacted my parents already, who could be worried sick about me even now."

  Once more he scrubbed a hand over his face. "Having worked for A.I.R., I know how they operate. They'll refrain from worrying your parents so that you're less afraid to go home. They might secretly tap the lines, yeah, but not worry the parents."

  "Still..."

  "If you want, you can call them and tell them, I don't know...you're running away or you need time to think about your life. Or if you want to stick with the truth, tell them A.I.R. is chasing you but that you're hiding and you're safe and you'll call them again in a few days. Keep it brief, though. Sound good?"

  My stomach rolled at the thought of confessing what I'd gotten myself into. They'd be worried (if they weren't already), and they'd be disappointed, and they'd be pissed. They'd demand that I come home right away. But maybe...

  I blinked as an idea hit me. Maybe my dad could help Erik and his cause. Maybe my dad could work the system and help change the laws so that aliens could receive Onadyn when they needed it, no matter who they were related to. Dad had never worked on behalf of Outers nor for their needs, but if his only "precious" daughter begged him to do it...

  "I'll call them," I said, determination rushing through me.

  Erik reached behind him and grabbed a cell unit from the nightstand. He placed it in my hands, but didn't pull away. He lingered, tracing my fingertips with his own. "I'll give you some privacy," he said, and there was a wistful edge to the words. "I'll check on breakfast. You, me, Silver, and Shanel will have a big, long talk. Okay?"

  "'K. Hey!" I groaned as something else occurred to me. "Why doesn't A.I.R. just storm this house?" I asked, my nerves now all the more raw.

  "This house is actually owned by a human--or a human identity, I should say. Aliens are smart, and have learned to get fake IDs just as humans have. They find a child who died, take the name, have all sorts of legal documents drawn up, and then..."

  Would I ever learn the ins and outs of this life?

  He shrugged. "A.I.R. has stormed this place several times before, but always came up empty. Now a lawsuit is pending. They can't enter again without absolute proof of wrongdoing. And if they tried, we'd be notified and out before they ever hit the front steps."

  No, I wouldn't, I decided.

  "Kitchen's down the steps, past the living room. First room on the right." He rolled from the bed.

  I could have stared at him all day. He was so strong, capable, and sure. My gaze landed on the welts on his back. Crap. I'd forgotten about them and had rubbed him there. Maybe squeezed. He might be strong, but that didn't mean I should abuse him.

  "Did I, uh, hurt you when I, uh, kissed you?"

  He glanced at me over his shoulder and smiled. "Totally worth it."

  A blush heated my cheeks.

  He left the room without another word, the door shutting behind him automatically and cutting him off from my view. A sense of emptiness hit me.

  Sighing, I looked down at the phone. "Here goes," I said with trepidation, then spoke my dad's name and address into the mouthpiece. The phone dialed immediately and I almost threw up. Almost disconnected. In the end, I was a brave little solider and remained on the line. Barely.

  My mom finally answered, breathless, as if she'd run to the phone.

  "Have you talked to anyone about me, Mom?" were the first words out of my mouth.

  "What? No. Camille?" she asked, clearly confused.

  Before I could stop myself, I told her how I'd lied about Tawny, what I'd done, where I'd been, and what had happened. At first she laughed like I was joking.

  "Listen to me and hear the fear in my voice. Everything I've said is true. A.I.R. is chasing me." After everything I'd done to presereve my lies, admitting the truth felt surprisingly good.

  There was a pause. A gasp. A whimper. She began to believe. There was terror in her voice as she yelled at me. The disappointment I'd anticipated came next as she cried.

  "I'm sorry," I said, feeling lower than I ever had before. "So very sorry, but it's safer this way. For everyone. I have to go now."

  "Camille!" Her panic stayed my hand and I didn't disconnect. "Don't do this.
Come home." Desperation clung to every word, all the more potent because of the panic.

  My stomach churned. How could I do this to her?

  "We'll sit down together and discuss this," she said. "We'll find a way to get you out of this situation. Everything will be okay. You'll see. We'll call the police. We'll have your dad call the district attorney. They're golf buddies. You don't need to run or hide."

  "You didn't see the way A.I.R. treated me." And now that I'd escaped them, making me appear all the more guilty, they'd be even worse. "If the police were to give me back to them.... Tell Daddy to start looking for ways to change the Onadyn laws," I said with a trembling breath. "If Outers aren't predatory, they should be allowed to get the drug no matter who they're related to. Kids are dying, Mom, and we have to do something."

  "Camille. Camille, sweetheart, listen to me. I need you--"

  "I really have to go now. I love you, and I'm sorry. Stay safe." I hung up before she could say another world. Before she could talk me into forgetting what needed to be done. A tremor rocked me from head to toe.

  I couldn't believe I'd just confessed such crimes to my mother. Things might never be the same between us again. But that was okay. I wasn't the same girl I'd been.

  Tossing the phone aside, I clumped from the bed. My legs were shaky, but not as bad as before. I changed into another of Erik's shirts. Instead of boxers, however, I pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and tied them at the waist. He'd also found me a pair of boots and had placed them by the door. I tugged them on--but not before I'd smothered the cuts and bruises with that numbing paste.

  When I was done, a quick glance in the mirror showed that I didn't look my best in the baggy clothes and the dark circles of fatigue hadn't faded from under my eyes, but I didn't look my worst, either. I looked fragile, delicate. And yet, I looked ready to take on the world. Determined. My cheeks were rosy, my lips slightly swollen.

  I look kissed, I thought.

  Smiling, I trudged from the room and managed to find the stairs without losing myself in the maze that was Silver's house. My stomach growled in anticipation of a meal. I smacked my lips, only then realizing how dry my mouth was.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I heard laughter and familiar voices and followed the sound, smile growing again at the thought of being with Er--uh, Shanel. Shanel! I quickened my steps and bypassed the very comfortable and expensive-looking living room with its overstuffed chairs and polished wood (real?) floors. As Erik promised, the kitchen was the first room on the right.