“The same thing you are, dear brother. Little Kat’s pain called to me—dragged me like a magnet all the way across the ship from the Unmated Males section.”
Lock’s brown eyes flashed. “What were you doing there? You’re not unmated!”
Deep raised an eyebrow. “I practically am. Anyway, why should you care?”
Kat looked back and forth between them uneasily. She wasn’t sure exactly what went on in the Unmated Males area—but she thought there must be some kind of sexual element to it. She’d never heard of prostitutes aboard the Mother ship but vague whispers and rumors seemed to indicate that there was some form of release available to the unmated warriors. Which made sense when you considered the uncharted amount of testosterone in the average alpha male Kindred.
“I care because it’s disrespectful to the lady Kat,” Lock growled. “But why should I expect anything different? You disrespect everything and everyone. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
Deep threw up his hands. “That’s me—I’m just a self-centered bastard, pissing on everything you hold dear. Ruining your life.”
“Yes, you are!” Lock’s hands were curled into fists and his normally mild expression had turned to one of hatred. He started to get off the bed but Kat stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Please, don’t.”
“Let him.” Deep gestured to the half-healed bruises on his face. “If the only way he can express his emotions is through his fists. Why not?”
“Because.” Kat hated how weak she sounded, how her voice trembled. She wanted to say something cutting or witty. Wanted to defuse the tension somehow, the same way she had sometimes when she was a little girl and her parents fought. If you can make them laugh or make them hate you instead of each other, they’ll stop fighting, whispered a little voice in her head. And maybe they won’t hit each other anymore… But nothing came to mind. “Please,” she repeated softly. “Please, just don’t.”
“I won’t, my lady, forgive me.” Lock gathered her protectively into his arms. “I’m sorry we upset you,” he murmured into her hair.
Kat closed her eyes, feeling bombarded by their emotions. Lock was feeling sorrow/worry/protectiveness and Deep was filled with despair/rage/hatred.
No, not just hatred…self-hatred. Kat opened her eyes to see the dark twin smirking at her, an insolent expression on his handsome features. But underneath that look of indifferent scorn, she thought she saw a flash of something else. A sorrow so deep it was nearly unbearable. A desolation so dark it made her heart knot like a fist in her chest.
“Guess I’ll leave and let you two finish comforting each other,” he said.
“Wait!” The skin to skin contact she’d had with Lock gave Kat the strength to jump out of bed and run after Deep as he was turning for the door. “Wait,” she demanded again, putting a hand on his arm.
“What is it now?” Deep growled, turning to face her.
Now that she was facing him, Kat didn’t know what to say. She wanted to shake him, to demand he stop acting this way and admit his true feelings. But part of her was still shaken by the fight—or almost fight that had just occurred. Part of her was still the scared little girl, huddling in the corner, listening to hatred and insults fill the air and praying that the people she loved wouldn’t hit each other this time.
“Well?” Deep demanded and she realized she’d been standing there silent for too long.
“Don’t be this way.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Please, Deep. I…I know you care about me. And I know you love Lock—he’s your brother. Please don’t act like you don’t.”
He raised an eyebrow at her mockingly. “You think I care? How very touching. And, unfortunately, how very wrong.”
“You do care,” Kat insisted. “Why else would you take my pain? The scars on your back prove it.”
“They prove nothing, other than my honor as a warrior,” he snapped. “I couldn’t let a female whose safety I’d been charged with die. That is the only reason I did what I did. Nothing more.”
Kat felt herself freezing inside. Despite her outward self-confidence, she’d suffered a lot of rejection in her life. It was hard—incredibly hard—to stand there, insisting that a huge, gorgeous, muscular man who would have been dating a supermodel if he was human and lived on Earth—loved her. Especially when he was saying in no uncertain terms that he didn’t.
Still, she tried one more time.
“I know something bad happened to you in the past,” she said quietly, meeting his eyes.
“Oh you do, do you?” Deep’s black eyes blazed. He looked up at Lock. “Thank you, Brother, for revealing my most private and painful shame.”
“I said nothing,” Lock growled.
“I’m just saying that I know about it, not that I know any details or that I judge you for it,” Kat said hastily. “I was thinking that whatever it is, maybe it had something to do with the way you’re acting now.”
Deep shook his head. “What happened is in the past—over and forgotten. It has nothing to do with what I feel for you, little Kat.”
Kat lifted her chin, her heart pounding. “And what do you feel for me?”
Deep leaned down until they were almost close enough to kiss. Looking into her eyes, he murmured, “Nothing. I feel nothing for you.”
Kat sucked in a breath. It felt like someone had punched her in the gut and she couldn’t get enough air. “Oh,” she whispered.
Deep nodded and straightened up to his full height. “Are you satisfied now, sweetheart? Can I go?”
“You can go, all right.” Tears of pain and rage filled Kat’s eyes but she blinked them back fiercely. “Go straight to Hell!”
Deep winked at her. “I prefer the Unmated Males section. There are so many more…distractions there.”
“I don’t care where you go—as long as you’re back in time for our trip tomorrow.” Kat kept her voice steady though she wanted to sob. “So we can go get this damn bond cut once and for all.”
Deep grinned insolently. “I wouldn’t miss it.” He sauntered out of the bedroom and through the suite.
Kat held herself in until she heard the front door whoosh shut behind him. Then the tears came—tears of shame and pain and embarrassment. Tears of rejection that stung worse than all the others put together. He really doesn’t care. Doesn’t want me. Putting a hand over her mouth, she sobbed.
Lock was there suddenly, enfolding her in his arms and raining soft, consoling kisses on her hair. “Oh my lady,” he whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”
“I shouldn’t let him get to me.” Kat blotted her eyes against the back of her hand. “But I feel so stupid. Liv kept saying tonight that maybe he was just afraid to love me or that he felt unworthy.” She shook her head. “I’m the unworthy one.”
“No, you’re not!” Lock took her face in his hands and looked at her earnestly. “You’re beautiful and intelligent and perfect. If only I could be free of him, I would bond you to me as quickly as I could. If you’d have me, that is.”
Kat sniffed and straightened up. “Thank you, Lock. I wish I could,” she whispered. “But I can’t be with a man who doesn’t want me and there’s no way to separate the two of you. I’m sorry.”
A look of sorrow passed over Lock’s face. “Will you let me hold you tonight, at least?” he asked softly. “Since tonight is the last night I’ll ever be able to do so?”
Kat knew by now that he didn’t care about the pain the physical contact would cause him. “Yes.” Turning her head, she kissed his broad palm. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Lock swung her up into his arms and carried her back to bed.
Kat laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, trying to forget the hurt and humiliation she’d endured. But in her mind’s eye, she just kept seeing Deep’s mocking grin and hearing him say over and over, “Nothing. I feel nothing for you.”
She wished she could say the same about him.
Twenty-Seven
Deep didn’t go to the Unmated Males area. In fact, he barely made it back to the suite he shared with Lock. Just inside the front door, he collapsed, sliding down the wall to sit with his knees drawn up to his chest.
She hates me now. Utterly and without a doubt. Hates me. Well good—that was what he’d wanted. Wasn’t it?
Self loathing rolled through him in waves like nausea until he knew he was going to be sick. Heaving himself to his feet, he just made it to the bathroom in time to void the contents of his stomach.
When he was empty, he splashed water from the sink in his face and rubbed his cheeks and mouth vigorously with a towel. Looking up into the viewer, he saw emptiness—a male with nothing left to lose. Nothing left because he’d just thrown away the most precious thing in his life. Thrown it away like a piece of garbage to lie rotting and festering in a dump.
“I killed it,” he said aloud, addressing the hated face in the mirror. “Anything she felt for me is dead now.”
But that was good—that was how it had to be. Closing his eyes, he remembered again the moment of total panic he’d experienced when she fainted during their love-making. I would have hurt her. Would have been the death of her—the same way I was with Miranda. She’s better off without me. Better off with Lock.
Yes—that was the truth of it. The real heart of the matter. Deep knew he didn’t deserve to love and be loved in return by such a beautiful, intelligent elite female. But Lock did. And Lock would take care of her, he would shelter Kat and protect her from the fiercest danger. He was the one she needed to be with. But how?
I know a way. Deep thought of the schematics for the Scourge torture device called the psychic knife. He’d been studying them before he was called away by Kat’s pain. When he’d first suggested using it, Deep had fully intended to simply sever himself and Lock from Kat once and for all. But after reading over the specs, a different plan was emerging in his head.
Forgive me, little Kat, he thought, wiping his face one last time and going in to the bedroom to study some more. Forgive me for hurting you but you’ll see—it will be for the best in the long run. I promise it will.
Kat was dreaming. At least, she thought she was—she seemed to be floating disembodied in an empty room. Where am I? she thought, looking around. The room seemed familiar—the large leather sofa built for three, the small, cozy fireplace, the pictures on the wall of a world with golden oceans… Deep and Lock’s suite, she thought. But what am I doing here?
Her question seemed to be answered when Deep walked in and settled himself at the desk in one corner of the room. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a long, thin tube and unrolled it to form a personal memory pad. Kat watched with interest as the liquid crystals within the pad’s black surface came to life and began to form shapes. What was he doing? The dark twin didn’t strike her as the introspective type—the idea that he might keep a memory journal surprised her greatly. But then, a lot of things about Deep surprised her. And not all of the surprises were pleasant.
Deep looked over his shoulder for a moment, almost as though he could sense that someone was watching him. Then, having satisfied himself that he was alone in the room, he leaned closer to the pad. “Enable memory five-two-six. Replay nonstop. Allow no interruptions,” he murmured.
There was a soft clicking and then the display screen enlarged substantially as the crystals expanded. By the time the memory began, it was large enough that Kat could have seen it from across the room.
The memory looked like a scene shot with an old fashioned handheld camera. It was clearly from Deep’s point of view and seen though his eyes because Lock was walking right beside him and they were talking in low voices. They appeared to be moving down a clean white sidewalk along a row of well cared for houses.
The neighborhood could have been in any town in America, as far as Kat could see. The houses looked to be upper middle class—prosperous without being gaudy. There were luxury cars and minivans in the driveways and the lawns were green and well tended. All the houses were quiet and peaceful…except for the one at the end of the block.
It was a white two story house with green gingerbread trim and a green door to match. But the white gravel driveway was crowded with emergency vehicles, their lights flashing. People in official looking uniforms were swarming over the neatly mown lawn.
“Is that the place?” Lock asked, pointing to the house. “You always see it so much clearer than me in the dreams.”
“That’s her house.” The point of view moved up and down, as though Deep was nodding.
“What’s going on?” Lock asked.
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t look good.” Deep sounded grim.
“Maybe we should go back to the HKR building. Come again later. Or send the draft officers for her instead.”
“We agreed to come for her ourselves. Those damn draft officers only scare the human females when they drag them out of their homes. And she’s already scared enough of me as it is.” Deep sounded unhappy.
“Still, it’s official procedure.” Lock sighed. “Don’t worry about the dreams, Deep. She just needs to get to know you. We’ll take things slowly during the Claiming period. Very slowly.”
“Agreed. If there is a Claiming period.”
“What do you mean by that?” Lock demanded as they went through the gate of the white picket fence surrounding the house with the gingerbread trim.
“I’m sorry, sir, but this is an official crime scene,” a voice said, before Deep could answer. The point of view looked down and Kat saw a human police officer standing there with his thumbs hooked in his belt, frowning and blocking the walkway.
“We’re Kindred,” Deep said smoothly. “Here on official business.”
The cop got a mulish look on his face. “Well, I’m afraid your business will have to wait. Crime scene takes precedence.”
“Give it up, Murphy.” Another policeman, this one a middle aged woman with her black hair scraped back into a ponytail, came to stand beside him. “It’s not really a crime scene when she meant to off herself.”
“That’s not our call to make. The Coroner’ll decide if it was suicide or not,” the first policeman said stubbornly.
“Suicide?” Lock sounded worried. “What are you talking about? Who—?”
“There they are! Let them through, officers. Let them through—those are the murderers.” A young woman with scraggly, brownish-blonde hair came running out onto the front porch. She was pointing to Lock and Deep and sobbing hysterically.
“Murderers, eh?” The first policeman, Murphy, looked at them with considerably more interest. “You gentlemen care to explain that?”
“Officer, I assure you that my brother and I have never even been on this planet until this morning and we—” Lock began but Deep was already pushing past the officers and rushing to the front porch.
“Where is she?” Kat saw his large hands grip the hysterical girl and give her a firm shake. “Where’s Miranda?” he demanded.
“You want to see her?” the girl shouted through her sobs. “You want to see what you did to her, you son-of-a-bitch?”
“Yes, I want to see her, damn it!” Deep’s voice was fierce now. Fierce and fearful—Kat could hear the dread throbbing in his tone. The knowledge of what he might find if he followed the crying girl into the house. But he went with her anyway, climbing a staircase and going down a hallway to the bedroom at the end.
Kat could hear soft sounds of grief coming from behind one door and there were two paramedics just leaving the far bedroom as they entered it. “Hey, I thought the police didn’t want anyone going in there,” one protested as Deep and the girl brushed past them.
“Official business,” Deep said, but his voice sounded hollow and strained.
At the door to the bedroom, the girl turned to face him, her face pale and blotchy with tears. “So you finally came for her. She said
you would. It was all she talked about for the past month.” Her voice went high and scared as though she was imitating someone. “‘The dark one—I don’t know his name but he won’t leave me alone. Every time I close my eyes I see him…coming for me, reaching out to touch me.’”
“Enough. Let me see her,” Deep sounded quiet but dangerous. “She’s supposed to be our bride—I have a right to see her.”
“She was never going to go with you,” the girl spat. “She made sure of that. You want to see? Fine, have a look!”
She flung open the door, revealing a room that was decorated in cream and pink and butter yellow. A cheerful room with a canopy bed against one wall and set of French doors leading out onto a balcony covered with climbing ivy.
It was cheerful, that was, until you noticed what was lying on the bed. Kat didn’t want to see it but somehow she couldn’t look away as Deep approached.
At first it looked like a doll. A life sized doll with hair the same brownish-blonde as the crying girl’s. But it was clear when you got closer that the doll was broken—its large, china blue eyes were wide and staring at the canopy overhead, its mouth frozen half open, as though it wanted to speak.
Oh my God, Kat thought numbly. It’s not a doll—it’s a girl. And she’s dead. She’s really dead.
“Gods!” There was a sudden, dizzying shift in the point of view and Kat realized that Deep had fallen to his knees. “Miranda!” he whispered hoarsely.
“I found her like this when I came to get her for breakfast.” The crying girl, who had to be Miranda’s sister, sounded numb. “She took my mom’s pills—all of them. And she left this.” She thrust a crumpled piece of notebook paper into Deep’s hands. “Read it,” she demanded.
Deep bowed his head and the words on the paper came into focus.
They’re coming for me and the dark one won’t leave until he gets me. I see them every night getting closer and closer. I just want him to leave me alone. I just want the dreams to stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…
Brides of the Kindred Volume One: Books 1-4 Page 112