Текст книги "The Shadows"

Автор книги: J. R. Ward

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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 42 страниц)

SIXTY

As Selena spoke up, Trez broke out a laugh. And she smiled.

They were both total hot messes, her face swollen and beet red from the screaming and the crying, his forearm bleeding from the glass that had hit him, their bodies shaky as they stood together.

“Did you practice all that?” he asked, brushing her hair back.

“Oh, yeah. For, like, hours.”

He led her over to the bed and sat them both down—before they fell over onto the broken glass that littered the carpet. “And in your head, how did it go?”

Selena leaned to the side for the Kleenex box next to the alarm clock. She offered him a tissue, and then took one for herself.

After they’d both blown their noses, she took another deep breath. “It went so well. You were touched at my magnanimity. Humbled by the purity of my love. And when I got teary, it was all Sleepless in Seattle dewy—not like this.”

As she indicated her face, he tilted her to him and kissed her. “You’re even more beautiful to me than ever.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, get real. I just told you I want you to be celibate for the rest of your life.”

“And nothing could possibly make me happier.”

“Trez, be real. That is a total bitch move on my part.”

“Do you think I’d be any different?” He shrugged. “Man, if I were to die? I wouldn’t want you to look at another male—forget being naked with him.” He couldn’t hide the recoil of disgust as he tried that nightmare on for size. “Oh, shit, nope. No way. Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Straight one hundred. Serious.”

As she looked down at the rug, the most beautiful smile hit her face.

Man, it felt good to be on the same page.

But then her expression faded.

They were quiet for an awfully long time. And he had a feeling he knew where she’d gone in her head.

“Life can be very long,” she said. As if she were imagining the time he had before him—and how things could change.

“Yes, it can.” He felt as though they had lived three lifetimes in the last two nights. “But my memory is stronger than time. When it comes to you, my memory will be the immortal part of me.”

“If it does come to pass.” She cleared her throat. “If you do find someone, I want you to know . . . I would never hold that against you. I love you too much to blame you for that.”

“Not going to happen.”

Selena snapped free another tissue, but she didn’t use it. She just folded the fragile square in half. And then halved it again. And a third time.

“I don’t want you frozen in a cemetery of your own making,” she said finally. “That’s I guess the point I’m trying to make. My big fear about being trapped in my body forever? Locked in? I fear that for you in your grief, too. Yes, sure, there is a part of me that wants you to duck your head and let the years pass you by, but an even bigger part of me doesn’t want that kind of prison for you. I guess . . . what I’m trying to say is that if you ever feel bad, you know, at some point, because something happens and you think it’s funny or you do eat a meal you enjoy or . . . if there’s a movie you want to see or you’re happy about a present somebody gives you, just please know I love you in that moment. Maybe you could even pretend that they’re gifts from me from the other side.” She smiled sadly. “A kiss from me to you.”

Oh, shit, now he felt like losing it again.

“Can you promise me that, Trez? That you’ll let the good things in even after I’m gone?” She ran her fingers down his face. “Even if those things happen because there’s another female by your side? The only thing worse than me dying is both of us going away, in spite of the fact that that big strong heart of yours continues to beat in your chest.”

He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to think about this.”

“Neither do I.”

In the silence that followed, he was once again confronted by the reality that there was nothing to fight, no one to scream at, nobody he could stab with a dagger to stop any of this.

“You want to go down to Doc Jane’s now?” he said.

“I’d rather you answer the question.”

Trez gathered up her hands in his own. “If it will give you peace of mind, then yes, fine. I promise that . . .” Okay, he couldn’t actually say it. “I’ll keep going.”

Relief loosened up her face, her shoulders, her entire body. “Thank you. That really helps. You won’t ever know how much that really helps me right now.”

He kissed her softly, and then got up and went into the closet. He had no clue what he put on himself, but he covered up the naughty bits and even remembered to put on deodorant. When he came out, his stomach felt like it had been dredged.

“You ready to go to the clinic?”

She glanced around the room as if searching for something. Or maybe she just wanted to put off the inevitable a little longer.

“I’m so sorry about your window,” she blurted.

“That’s okay. The shutter is still in place, so that’ll cut the breeze and the cold.”

“And the lamp.”

“Like I care.”

She nodded and stood up. She was wearing black skinny jeans and a loose white blouse—and he was struck by how good she looked in normal clothes, not all that Chosen formality. And it was funny, her language was loosening up too, becoming more vernacular.

Goddamn, he thought. . . . he would really love to have had children with her.

* * *

The trip down to the clinic felt endless, and Selena wasn’t sure whether that was a bad or a good thing. On the one hand, she was ready to have the news just so she could deal with whatever it was. On the other, she would have been content to live in the no-know zone a little longer.

Trez held her hand all the way to the training center, not letting her go even when he put the various passcodes in or when they had to go one after the other through the supply closet. Walking down the corridor to Doc Jane’s, she thought about all the doors they could have entered instead of the one they were destined for.

As they came to the examination room, she looked up at him. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

He leaned down and brushed her mouth with his. “The good news is that you won’t have to.”

Together, they entered the clinical space. Instantly, Selena had trouble breathing, that chemical scent and all the shiny-shiny getting to her once again. And the choking sensation got worse as Doc Jane and Manny straightened from the computer screen over at the desk and put on identical, professional smiles.

“Bad news, huh,” she said. As both doctors started to prevaricate, she cut them off. “Please. Respect me and my time enough not to waste words trying to sugarcoat all this. Tell me what my body told you.”

“We see some change in the joints.” Doc Jane stepped back. “Everywhere we X-rayed.”

Well . . . didn’t that take the starch out of her. Even though she had expected that very answer.

The two doctors were taking turns explaining things, and Trez was nodding like he was tracking the conversation. She, however, was focused on the computer screen’s side-by-side comparison of two images, one that had been taken after the last episode had happened . . . and the other that had been taken hours ago. Separated by a mere two days . . . the joints now had a gray haze in the spaces between the bones.

“It’s as if it is kindling,” Doc Jane said. “Maybe your body is holding it at bay?”

“For how long?” Trez asked.

“We have no idea.” Manny reached forward and adjusted and readjusted the contrast of the moniter, as if searching for something. “We would like to suggest that you come in for more imaging every six hours for the next day. That way we can see if things are continuing to change.”

“Are you in pain right now?” Doc Jane asked.

“No.”

“Because we can give you relief if you need it.”

Trez spoke up. “Are there any medications we can try?”

Dearest Virgin Scribe, her brain seemed to have shut down.

“Well, we’ve talked it over.” Manny glanced at Jane. “And we’re stuck.”

Doc Jane took the lead. “One of the things we’ve been considering is anti-inflammatories. Oral steroids would be problematic, because they suppress the immune system and it’s unclear to what extent an episode is being held off precisely by your body’s own defenses.”

“Your white blood cell count is very high,” Manny cut in. “So there’s definitely something happening right now.”

“And steroid injections into the joints, even if we stuck with only the largest ones in your body, would be but a partial solution.” Jane drew a hand through her short hair. “It would seem logical to start you on some NSAIDs—think prescription-strength Motrin.”

“Not a lot of negative side effects,” Manny chimed in.

“They would ease any pain up to a point, but also work as anti-inflammatories that wouldn’t affect your immune system.”

Selena closed her eyes and wished she could be anywhere else. Wished that she could be anyone else.

To think that the entire compound was filled with people who had no fear of whether they were going to wake up at dusk.

It wasn’t that she begrudged them that blessing. Not at all.

She just wanted to be a member of that club.

More conversation happened, but her brain had left the clinic and the clinical discussion. Instead, it was back up in Trez’s bedroom, reliving the knock-down, drag-out that had ultimately brought them even closer.

Trez was right. They had lived a lifetime over these last forty-eight hours.

“. . . you think?” he said to her.

“I’m sorry?” she mumbled.

“So what do you think? Would you like to try the pills?” When she stayed silent, he leaned down. “You okay? You need some time?”

“I need to make you dinner,” she blurted. Then shook herself. “I’m sorry, yes, sure, I’ll try whatever you want to give me. But after I get the pills . . . I want to make you dinner after sundown. At the Great Camp. With no one else around.”

Trez smiled a little. “Okay. You want to plan tonight’s date, you got it, my queen.”

She took a deep breath and nodded at the doctors. “That is what I want to do. And then I want to go for my boat ride.”

Both of the healers said all the right, caring things, reaching out and touching her hands, her shoulders—and she really appreciated the contact. It made her feel as if she weren’t some machine they were fixing from a distance, but someone they loved and cared about. A few minutes later, an orange bottle with a white lid was pressed into her palm and instructions she didn’t track were given.

More nodding. More thanking. Then she and Trez were leaving.

She waited until the door shut behind them. “Did any of that register for you? Like what I’m supposed to do with these?” The pills inside rattled against the plastic as she looked down. “Oh, there’s a label.”

“I remember everything,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Come on.”

He led her back to the office. Back out through the closet. Back into the damp-smelling, went-on-forever tunnel.

“Can I tell you something?”

She glanced up at him. “Of course. And I promise I won’t throw any more lamps—well, not like there are any around at the moment, but still.”

“You can throw anything you want.” He stopped and turned her to face him, brushing her hair back. “You are the bravest person I know.”

She laughed in a burst. “Okay, stop humoring the dead person, all right?”

“I’m serious. And don’t say that.”

“You live with the Brotherhood. They are the bravest people in the race.”

“No,” he whispered.

As he stared down at her, the admiration on his face was . . . simply stunning. But it was all wrong. “Trez, I’m terrified about everything.” She held up the pills. “I’m scared to take these. I’m scared to go to sleep—”

“You’re very brave—”

“I’m scared to cook you dinner.” She held up her forefinger. “And FYI, you should be, too. I can’t even make toast. Which is bread. In a toaster. How hard is that—and yet I have burned up loaves of the stuff.”

He shook his head. “Courage doesn’t mean you aren’t scared.” He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her. “God, I love you so much. I love you so deeply. I love you forever.”

Putting her arms around him, she held on hard—and maybe wiped some tears on his shirt. “Fine, you think I’m brave . . . well, you’re the most romantic male I’ve ever known, seen, or heard about.”

Now he was laughing, and the deep rumble sounded so good against her ear. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Right.”

Melding her body to his, she said, “There is nothing more romantic on the planet than loving someone with your full heart, even though you know they’re leaving.”

He went still. “How else could a male love a female of worth like you but wholly. Completely. And without a single regret.”

As they stood there in that tunnel, halfway from the compound and halfway to the main house, she thought it was apt that what was on either side of them seemed to go off into infinity. They had but this middle point of the here and now, and they had to make it count.

“I don’t need to mate you in a ceremony,” she said.

“No?”

“We’re living the vows right now.”

“So you’re saying you won’t mate me.”

“Are you asking?” she teased.

“You want me to one-knee it?”

Sinking down to the floor, he took her hands. “Selena, will you be my shellan? My one and only? I don’t have a ring, but we can go get you one—it’s what the humans do. Plus, I don’t know, I kind of want to buy you something expensive.”

Her first instinct was the one she had been trained to have—a demure deferral of the attention, the fuss, the pleasure.

But, in the words of her male, Fuck. That.

“I would love that. I would love everything, a ceremony, a ring, a party, the whole thing.” Opening her heart wide, she let the love in. “Everything!”

“That’s my queen,” he murmured. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

And that was how she ended up . . . engaged.

As she bent down to kiss him, it seemed utterly bizarre that the pair of them kept ricocheting back and forth between such incredibly opposite emotions. But this situation seemed to amplify the highs and lows, funneling feelings and experiences through a bullhorn until everything was too big to contain.

“So, a ring?” she said against his mouth.

“Yup, a ring.”

He ran his hands around the back of her thighs and stroked up and down. “And maybe a little sumthin’-sumthin’ you can’t get at a store.”

“And what might that be?” she drawled.

“Oh, you know. I’ll just have to show you upstairs. . . .”

SIXTY-ONE

“Yeah, I heard you arguing during the day.”

As iAm spoke, he glanced into the mirror over his bathroom sink. His brother was standing behind him, in the doorway to his bedroom, and the guy was dressed in all black, looking like he was right out of a magazine.

Clearly ready to take his female out again for the night.

“Sounded heavy,” iAm tacked on.

“It was bad for a little while.” Trez came in and sat down on the lip of the Jacuzzi. “But we got through it. I asked her to mate me.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Picking up the can of Barbasol, iAm hit the go button and then patted down his cheeks and chin. “How’s she doing?”

“Okay.”

iAm knew the male was lying. The tells were all over the place, but mostly in the way his brother didn’t meet his eyes.

“What’s on your mind, Trez.”

Trez cracked his knuckles one by one. “She doesn’t want her remains to be . . . like, where her sisters are up there.” He pointed to the ceiling, but meant the heavens above. “So, you know, when the time comes, I’m thinking of disposing of—”

As that deep voice cracked and couldn’t keep going, iAm forgot about his razor and went over, tightening the towel that was around his waist and sitting down beside his brother. “Shit.”

Trez rubbed his face. “Yeah, that about covers it. Anyway, I’m thinking I’ll build a pyre for her. Rehv’s people do that. That way, she’ll be . . .” He cleared his throat. “She’ll be free. She wants to be free at the end. You know.”

iAm shook his head. “I hate this for you.”

“Me, too. Guess I was born under the wrong star in a major way.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. Just listen to me and forgive me if I say the wrong thing or get pissy. The stress is fucking crazy.”

They sat side by side in silence—because sometimes that was all you could do for someone you loved: There were paths that had to be walked alone. And that just sucked.

He wanted to ask how long. But that was the question of the hour, the one that nobody could answer.

“Are you going to have a ceremony?” iAm asked.

“I don’t think she wants that. I’m not sure what the Chosen do for funerals—”

“I was talking about the mating.”

“Oh, yeah. Ah, yeah, I guess.” Trez slapped his knees and got to his feet. “I gotta head out. I’m going to take her out tonight and get her a ring. I want to put a star from the heavens on her finger. Then she’s going to cook me dinner up north at Rehv’s.”

“Sounds good.” iAm looked at the guy. “Listen, this is none of my business—”

“Everything is your business. You’re my blooded brother.”

“Does Selena know about what’s doing with the s’Hisbe? About your . . . situation with the Princess?”

Trez shrugged. “I told her. A while ago. But I’m not thinking about all that right now.”

God, they were down to only a couple of nights left in the mourning period. And then . . .

One nightmare at a time, iAm thought. His brother was right.

“Listen,” iAm said. “I’m just a phone call away. You need anything, you hit me.”

“Thanks, my man.”

They clapped palms, and Trez offered a dead smile. “You look like Santa Claus.”

On that note, his brother left.

iAm sat there for a while, the uneven rim of the tub and the marble ledge making his butt feel like someone was hitting it with a two-by-four over and over again.

It was the saddest commentary that Trez was more focused on the funeral than the mating ceremony.

For a moment, he considered canceling his own . . . date. Or whatever it was with maichen. But he could just as easily wait by the phone in her company.

Naked company.

As he stood up and went to the sinks, he grabbed his Gillette eight hundred–bladed whatever and started de-Santa’ing himself. The guilt that he felt about heading off for a couple of hours of sex while his brother was suffering like this was enough to make him want to throw up.

His entire life had been in service to the male, and thinking of himself and what he wanted for his own shit was like exercising a limb that had been in a cast for decades: It seemed uncomfortable, unsure, unlikely to sustain weight.

But he felt kind of like Trez did . . . as if there was a limited time to enjoy what he had before everything changed and not for the better.

Trez might not want to think about it. But his time for reckoning with the s’Hisbe was going to come whether he acknowledged it or not. Their parents had been stripped of their station and their ill-gotten gains for essentially selling Trez to the Queen. There were no other levers to pull on that front—even if their mother and father were tortured and killed? Which had been brought up nine months ago? It had been no motivator for Trez or himself. And the s’Hisbe must have realized that because that was the last either of them had heard of that line of threats.

Impossible to get emotional about two people who had allowed you to be jailed your entire life—just so they could rise to be Primaries at court.

One thing he knew for certain? As the time for the ritual mating came due, the Queen was going to take things to a higher level. Which meant both he and Trez were going to have to watch their backs.

Probably a good idea to encourage any dating scenarios to stick close to home. Or, preferably, in the compound itself.

Shit, Trez was going to hate that.

* * *

“Hmmmm.”

As Trez let out a purr, Selena pivoted around in the closet. He had materialized behind her, his arms crossed over his chest, his body tilted against the jamb.

“Well, hello,” she said.

“I love what you’re wearing.”

“I don’t have anything on.”

“Exactly.”

He came forward, turning her to face him and drawing her closer. “Gimme.”

His kiss was forceful, his hips thrusting into her, his arousal a very good indicator that they were in danger of being late.

She laughed and pushed at his solid chest. “Aren’t we supposed to be at the jeweler’s in a half hour?”

“Who cares.”

As if she were going to say no?

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she let herself get loose. Or . . . as loose as she could become. Even with the pills that she’d taken two doses of, her joints were aching all over, her body’s battle reaching the point where her mind was being brought into the fight, the sensations no longer a figment of paranoia, but an actual, dogged drag.

The good news? The lust she felt was so loud and pervasive it overrode everything else.

Trez picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Laying her out flat, he kissed her deeply, his hands caressing her breasts and thumbing at her nipples, his pelvis pushing and retreating. When she was writhing underneath his weight, he broke off from her lips and began a slow descent down her body, lingering to lick and suck, heading for her sex.

She called out his name as contact was made, spreading herself wide for him, drinking in the sensations of his wet mouth on her core. The orgasm was a beautiful series of contractions, pleasure vibrating through her, filling her out on the inside.

And all the while, he watched her, his eyes looking up from where he was, his hands cupping her breasts.

She was expecting him to stop so that she had time to dress.

No. He kept going, licking up to the top of her sex, lolling his tongue around, giving her every opportunity to see what he was doing to her, showing off as he flicked at her, his pink flesh moving quickly. . . .

Punching at the pillows, she stretched herself against the heat and the thrill of it.

And still he continued.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that he was doing this not just to pleasure her, but to bank the memories in his mind: His eyes never left her, his peridot stare capturing her face, her throat, her breasts, her belly.

“Trez . . .” she moaned, arching up.

When he finally released her core, he reared over her body and all but ripped off his clothes. As his shirt went fluttering to the floor and his pants were treated with no concern at all as he yanked them off, she smiled.

She was so ready for him.

He brought her knees up with his dark hands, bending her legs and moving them out to the sides gently. And then he gripped his erection and brought the head of it to the center of her need. Stroking her, he went up and down, glossing himself as he stared at where the two of them were about to be joined.

Pressing inside, he retreated and came at her again, his palm doing the work more than his hips. And each time he popped free, he bit down on his lower lip, his fangs compressing the flesh that had worshiped her.

For some reason, she thought about all her training as an ehros. She had been prepared to do her duty, had even been curious about the act, but these experiences with him, the choice to have him, the joy at giving herself not out of some trained obligation, but because she loved him and only him, was so much grander and more glorious than anything her station might have prepared her for.

Eventually, his control snapped and he groaned, sinking into her to the hilt. Propping himself up on his hands, he moved above her, his eyes traveling around her face until he dropped his head and kissed her.

Soon, his pumping became hard and fast, and she stretched her arms out, stroking his lower back, his buttocks, his hips.

As he started to climax, she fell still and felt him orgasm.

It went on for the longest time, his gasping breath, his groans, the sound of her name being wrenched from him as if his soul were being torn apart. And still his hips moved and his sex stroked, and then once again she was coming along with him.

When he collapsed on top of her, she wrapped her arms around him. He was so big, she could barely make it up onto his back, much less have her hands meet at his spine.

He was panting into her hair. Into her throat.

“I love you so much,” was all he said.