Talia’s light form bounced along with the bed from the impact. Neither fear nor shock nor anger registered on her beautiful face. She said nothing, waiting for me to continue.
“Until someone finds a cure, no one can help me,” I practically growled.
My vision became fuzzy. My limbs began to tingle. The lamp next to the bed flickered several times, followed by a quick pop that sounded impossibly loud in the silence. Only the pale moonlight streaming through the window kept us from being engulfed in total darkness.
Confused shouts from the other bedrooms in the hallway met my ears.
Shit. Ours was not the only light that had gone out.
Get it together. Calm the hell down before someone gets hurt, I lectured myself.
Fearing that very outcome would come to pass, I leapt off of the bed, determined to find a quiet place to ride out this latest fury wave. I was fast, but Talia was faster. She darted in front of me, putting her body between me and the only exit from the bedroom.
“Move,” I snapped.
“No. I’m over this bullshit, Erik. I will not go on like this. You are going to stop being a brooding asshole and talk to me.” Talia was shouting now, loud enough for people in the next shire—or whatever the hell they called towns here—over to hear her. “I can’t cure you. You’re right about that. I can’t change what Mac did to you. I can’t help feeling sad that Donavon is dead. Yeah, I—”
“I never said anything about Donavon,” I shouted, banging one fist into the wall.
Even in my anger, I was cognizant of Talia and her positioning. I made sure to turn and hit a wall away from where she stood. Yes, I punched a stone wall—not one of my finer moments.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Talia knew how I felt about Donavon, his death, and her reaction to it. That her mourning upset me. And yet, it did. Ninety percent of the time, I loved the intimate connection she and I shared. I loved feeling what she felt. I loved when we were in a crowded room and Talia was displaying one face for the world, and only I knew what was really going on inside her head. I loved that the reverse was true. But the other ten percent of the time, like say now, that connection bit me in the ass.
Of all the thoughts I wanted to keep from her, the ones about Donavon were my most closely guarded secrets. Talia gave a brittle laugh. She’d heard me.
“That’s my point! You never say shit about shit, Erik. What? Am I so fragile that a little truth is going to break me?”
Part of me, the part that knew every freckle on Talia’s body and every cell inside her brain, knew she was baiting me intentionally. She wanted a reaction. And the steely glint in her gaze told me she wasn’t backing down until I gave her one.
Someone pounded on the door. Talia stumbled forward with the force of the wood shaking behind her. Reacting on instinct, I caught her easily in my arms. She was trembling with a mix of panic, rage, and heartache.
From the brain patterns of the knocker, his identity was obvious.
“Go away, Brand,” I called. “You too, Henri,” I added when I felt my old teammate and friend join Brand outside the door.
“Talia?” Henri asked, voice muffled.
“We’re fine, Henri,” she replied.
Refusing to return my embrace, but also not pulling away from me, Talia tipped her head back and met my gaze. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. The tone soothing, calming. Not quite manipulating, but on the verge.
“Talk to me, please,” she said, in what was as close to begging as my girlfriend would ever come. “I can’t cure you, but I do understand how you feel. I get what it’s like to feel out of control. Even before the drug, my moods were at one end of the spectrum or the other. I don’t have an in between.” Talia bit her lower lip, as the physical pain would mask the emotional. “If not me, then Penny. Because I know I can only sympathize with the other stuff, but Penny truly understands.”
The angrier emotions inside of me ebbed, both as a result of Talia’s powers and the offer she’d just made. She wanted to be my confidante. It killed her that I refused to pour my heart out to her. Asking me to confide in Penny, instead of Talia herself, hurt my girlfriend’s pride. But she cared more about easing my torment than her wounded ego.
I blew out a long breath and squeezed her tighter. This time, Talia wrapped her arms around my waist and returned the hug. My heart was beating so hard, it was a wonder her head didn’t bob visibly when she rested it on my chest.
“I hate how much his death is affecting you,” I murmured into her hair. “I hate that you cry in the shower, when you think I can’t hear you. I hate that he sacrificed his life for you because I was stupid enough to let TOXIC catch me and therefore wasn’t in Kentucky with you that day. I hate that I’m jealous of him. And I hate how insane all of what I just said sounds.”
Warm liquid seeped through the thin cotton of my tee-shirt: Talia’s tears. Crying was nothing new from my hyper-emotional girlfriend. But I’d never before been the one to cause the tears. It scared me, made me want to stop. Instead, I began speaking in a rush.
As I held her there in my arms, I told her everything that I’d been holding back for weeks. Some fears I’d been unaware of until I said them out loud to Talia. The worry that my father was never going to fully recover from his injuries. My distress that my brothers’ lives were ruined because of me.
Then there was the Treaty, an obscure document I’d spared little thought for until the last twelve hours. The very real likelihood that our kind was going to be forced into exile, confined to UNITED’s seven-island nation, was terrifying. Living there for just the last couple of weeks had been hard enough—I felt like a caged bird when I was on Eden.
I saved the hardest thing for last. The scariest of all. It was terrifying to admit, but I honestly believed that I belonged in containment.
Even though I still felt my friends’ presences on the other side of the door, I no longer cared who heard me. Maybe tomorrow I’d feel differently, but, just then, it was too cathartic to stop. Spilling my guts was lifting the boulder-sized burden weighing me down.
My verbal regurgitation of touchy-feely topics completed, silence filled the void. Talia was still crying quietly into my shirt, handfuls of the material bunched in her hands at the small of my back.
“Say something, Tals,” I urged.
Her mind was open, but I was too petrified to look inside. If I’d broken my girlfriend with all of the weight I’d just put on her, I would never forgive myself. And not just because I didn’t want a broken girlfriend.
Talia cleared her throat and I held my breath, waiting in reluctant anticipation for her to speak.
“Was that really so hard?” she asked, her tone deceptively light and even a little mocking.
With her words, the darkness within me retreated to only the furthest reaches. My girlfriend didn’t think I was crazy. At least, not any crazier than she had before now.
“Are you serious right now, Tals? What’s with all the crying, then?”
“I’m relieved, you moron,” she said with a soft laugh. “You’re talking to me. I couldn’t take being shut out. Besides, everything you just told me? Those are all normal worries and fears. After weeks without knowing what was happening in there, I was expecting way worse.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her, gently pushing back her shoulders so I could see her face.
Eyes still wet and shiny with tears, Talia smiled.
“For what, exactly?” she asked, a mischievous quality to her upturned lips. “And better yet, how do you plan to make it up to me? Because ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it right now. Words are easy. I’m going to need a little action on this one.”
Using my lightning fast reflexes, I bent and scooped her up, with one arm beneath her knees and the other cradling her torso. Talia gave a small squeal of delight. I carried her back to the bed, tossing her gently onto the mattress.
“You better tell your bodyguards out there everythi
ng is okay before they bust through the door and interrupt my apology,” I said.
Talia’s smile was downright wicked. When she didn’t assure everyone that I wasn’t murdering her, I climbed onto the bed and grabbed ahold of her right foot, tickling the skin above her ankle bone. She squirmed, pretending to put up a fight.
“Tell them,” I sent, as her laughter reverberated around the bedroom.
“No way,” she gasped, panting as she continued to wiggle out of my grasp.
Releasing her ankle, I gently grabbed her flailing arms and pinned her wrists to the mattress. Leaning down to kiss the spot just below her ear, I whispered against her soft skin.
“Never mind, I don’t care about anyone but you.”
Chill-bumps sprang to life on Talia’s arms and neck and she shivered. I trailed kisses along her jaw, over her cheeks, until my mouth hovered millimeters above hers. Talia’s eyelids were half closed, her focus solely on my touch. Feeling her visceral reactions to me was my favorite part of the connection we’d forged so long ago. In that instant, I vowed never to resent that bond again, even in those rare times I wanted privacy that she refused to give. It was a small price to pay for moments like this one.
Things between us might not have been completely back to normal, but I honestly wasn’t even sure what normal was for us anymore. Regardless, even if just for a little while, my world—our world—wasn’t spinning out of control. The barriers between us had crumpled with my many admissions and Talia seemed satisfied that I was opening up to her.
“Tals?” I whispered, yet to actually touch her lips with mine.
“Hmmm,” she mumbled.
“Will you look at me?”
She opened her eyes completely, that look I knew and loved staring me in the face.
“Seriously, I’m sorry. I can’t promise that I’m up for daily therapy sessions or anything, but I will try and let you in more. Okay?”
“You’d better,” she said. “Because I need you. You. The guy who took away my pain after I got myself stabbed on my first mission with the Hunters. The guy who punched my cheating boyfriend. The guy who has endured so much crap, just to save me the trouble of it. The guy who hates the only other boy I’ve kissed simply because he kissed me. You’re still that guy, Erik. And you always will be, even if they never find a cure for the Creation drug.”
Finally, I kissed her. Softly at first, but then more urgently as her love washed over me. My hands slid down her arms to find the hem of her shirt. Free to roam, her own fingers crawled over my stomach and up to my chest as she tried to separate me and my clothes.
The day had been long and exhausting. Tomorrow was going to be even worse. But none of that mattered when I had Talia in my arms. As long as I had her, my days always ended on a high note.
A STREAM OF incoming messages to my communicator, each arrival punctuated with an irksome beep, ripped me out of sleep in the wee hours of morning. Outside the window, the sky was a turbulent navy with heavy gray clouds lit by the moon, which still hung lazily above the horizon. ‘Ominous’ was the first word that came to mind.
Erik groaned as I wiggled out of his warm embrace to search for my communicator. It had somehow ended up underneath the bed, cuddling with a family of dust bunnies. I shook the device free from its slumber companions. Apparently displeased by the early morning wakeup call, they flew up my nose and into my eyes in protest. I sneezed and cursed the non-furry little creatures.
“You okay down there?” Erik called drowsily.
“Fine,” I muttered as I emerged from the bunny cave and stood up. My sneezing fit continued, drawing a sleepy smile from Erik, who still had his eyes closed.
Not the best way to start my day.
Unsurprisingly, all eleven of the messages were from Victoria. The first informed me that UNITED’s cryptos had finally deciphered the time and date on the auction invitations, confirming that the event was to take place in just a few short hours. Messages two through nine were updated surveillance footage from Andrew’s Rock. Through the use of animal drones, the recon team was monitoring the premises from both the air and ground, giving UNITED a direct window into the comings and goings in the area. Even in the middle of the night, Andrew’s Rock was a hive of activity.
The last two messages both instructed me to call Victoria immediately.
The communicator beeped again as I finished reading the last message. Evidently Victoria had given up on text, because this was a voice call. Great, the councilwoman was short on patience today and didn’t trust me to obey her directives.
Less than alert, I hit the answer button before taking a good look in the standing mirror next to the privacy screen. Yikes. My hair was disheveled and frizzy from Erik running his fingers through the curls, lips swollen from hours spent molded against my boyfriend’s beautiful mouth, eyes puffy from too little sleep. And I was naked. Super professional—that was me.
“Agent Lyons,” Victoria greeted me automatically, golden eyes widening and thin lips forming an “O” when she took in my appearance.
I quickly disabled the video option, flames of humiliation engulfing every exposed freckle on my uncovered skin. Even though she’d only seen the upper portion of me—thank heavens for small favors—it was still enough for me to want to find Andrew’s Rock and immediately crawl under it.
Well, at least I can check off ‘shock-a-reaction-out-of-Victoria’ from today’s to-do list, I thought.
“Hey,” I said to cover the awkward silence from the other end of the call. “Sorry, I was sleeping. I just finished reading the messages, I’ll go wake the others now so we can go over the surveillance footage you sent.”
Following my lead and ignoring the fact she’d just seen more of me than either of us was comfortable with, Victoria’s response was professional.
“You received it then? Very good. Thus far we have been lucky, no one has spotted the drones. They will remain in place throughout the day to allow the council to keep an eye on things. That way, should you need reinforcements, we will know immediately.
“I need Agent Kelley and Agent Longpre in the conference room in one hour for a briefing with the strike teams. There are five groups, each comprised of ten agents, ready to leave for Andrew’s Rock on my word. Departing from Bern on their hovercrafts, it will take approximately nineteen minutes to reach you. Please keep that in mind. We will try to have one team in position nearby, but we cannot raise alarms by being too close.”
“Do you want me to pass all of that along?” I asked, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
Erik was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, one arm thrown over his face to shield his eyes from the small lamp I’d turned on. The other was reaching out blindly in my general direction. Taking Erik’s hand, I climbed back onto the bed and let him pull me close.
“No need, I have sent everyone their orders and the relevant information,” Victoria replied.
“Okay,” I said, steeling myself for the councilwoman’s next words. No way had she called me at four in the morning just to make sure I’d received the surveillance footage.
Silence from the other end of the communicator had me double-checking the connection. Still intact.
“Is there anything else?” I finally prompted.
Victoria’s sigh was long and tired, and I wondered whether she’d been to bed yet. Suddenly, my three hours of sleep seemed indulgent.
“Talia…,” she began, and my ears perked up.
Victoria rarely used my first name. Sometimes, when she was particularly pissed, she’d use ‘Natalia’. It was always spoken in a patronizing tone that set my teeth on edge. But just then, the councilwoman’s tone lacked any trace of condescension. It was more beseeching, like she was about to ask a favor that I was unlikely to grant.
Despite his moans and groans, Erik was awake. And listening to our conversation. Hearing my first name from Victoria caused Erik to stiffen, as well. Like me, he knew whatever she had to say was serious and probably not go
od.
“Um, yes?” I replied hesitantly.
“The council has received credible intel. From our undercover agents inside many of the foreign governments.”
“Okay….”
Erik and I exchanged an uneasy glance. His hand tightened reflexively on my waist, calloused fingers squeezing the skin just above my hipbone.
“As of right now, a majority of the Joint Nations representatives plan to vote against renewing the Treaty.”
A spasm of pain lanced through my core. It was one thing to discuss the Treaty being overturned in the abstract. But knowing that our supporters were officially in the minority was a different beast altogether.
“This isn’t really possible, right?” I asked Erik, my thoughts rushing on before he could answer. “I mean, they can’t really make being Talented illegal, right? They can’t really send all of the Talents to the island. They know there isn’t enough room. They know that, so they can’t really say everyone has to go there. Right? Right?”
Erik didn’t answer me, his brain was whizzing through the progression of events in the world and trying to come to grips with it logically. Understandably, with the Created making headlines from Tokyo to Manhattan, everyone was scared. The non-Talented were scared of the Talented. UNITED was scared of the vigilante justice those scared individuals were seeking. The members of the Joint Nations were scared of the chaos devolving into war. To them, peaceful coexistence of our races probably seemed like a relic from the good old days. So UNITED’s preemptive measures—preparing the islands for additional refugees, recruiting Erik to be the face of the Created—made sense. Ignorance wasn’t bliss in this situation. Ignoring the probability that our kind was doomed for exile was naïve.