by Sarah Noffke
“You know nothing of loyalty,” she says through tight lips.
“I didn’t know how to be loyal when you knew me, dear Dahlia,” I say, hoping she’ll feel my earnestness. “But I do know loyalty now that I’ve grown up.” I think of my commitment to the Institute. How it’s what has taught me about real dedication. Who would have thought my would-be enemy, Trey Underwood, would have been my greatest teacher. I thought that day eighteen years ago he was going to kill me. I think that day he actually saved my life.
“Ren, it’s been almost twenty years. I looked for you,” she says, a desperate tone lacing her voice. “I hired men to find you. I didn’t give up for almost ten years. I searched and searched tirelessly. Where have you been?” She looks too defeated after this confession. I drained her energy by leaving. Another person might have plummeted after what I did, but Dahlia searched and also kept her stardom. She is more a marvel to me than ever.
“Would you believe me if I told you I became a monk?” I say, a cheeky grin on my face. I’ve had a hard time hiding it all this while as I stared at Dahlia.
“No, I wouldn’t believe that. You detest organized religion,” she says boldly.
“Well, I didn’t become a monk but I have been punishing myself.”
“For how long?” she asks.
“For almost eighteen years.”
“For what you did to me?”
I nod. “As well as other things.”
“And have you atoned for these sins?” she says, her voice not quite sensitive, but rather challenging.
“No, not yet.”
“Is that why you’re here?” And only Dahlia would dare to ask such a gamble of a question, knowing the odds of disappointment are so high.
I blow out a breath and consider answering her. Instead I say, “I lied to you.”
She pauses and regards me sideways. “How many times?” she says, sizing me up.
“Only the once,” I say.
“Which was…?”
“When I said I didn’t love you back then,” I say, each of my words carefully constructed. “The truth is, I did. And I do. I always have. I never stopped. I couldn’t make myself stop loving you, although I tried.”
Her face doesn’t shift at all. Instead of answering me, she inspects my features. I almost feel her eyes crawling over my face, but I don’t feel invaded. At all. It’s been too long since I felt her eyes on me, gracing me with her appreciating gaze. I realize now that when I sent Dahlia away, I banished myself to hell, but any other reality was a suffering after knowing what kind of effect she has on me. After a long minute filled with my thoughts and her lingering gazes she says, “You haven’t aged enough in all these years.”
“Nor you,” I say simply.
“It’s a perk of being rich, you know.”
“I wouldn’t actually.”
“You’re not rich anymore?” she says, not disappointed, but rather curious.
“No, I’m hardly Ren anymore.”
“Come here,” she says and motions me forward. I step so only two feet separate us. Dahlia takes her time regarding me, but I don’t grow impatient of looking at her, at her looking back at me. And then I spy her hand rise in the air. I could have moved away from it, but I never want to move away from her again. Even if every movement is a punishment from her, I’ll take it. She strikes me hard across the cheek with a fast and deliberate force. Her hand claps against my skin. That one sound sends the last eighteen years reverberating through my bones. I whip my head to the side from the assault. A stingy sensation wraps around my cheek, making it burn with heat. I clap a hand there before I bring my eyes up to meet Dahlia’s seething stare.
“I deserved that,” I say.
“And more,” she says, her eyes burning with a pain I know I caused and can’t ignore.
“Should I chain myself up so you can whip and torture me then?” I say.
“Oh, you’d probably enjoy that.”
“Probably,” I say, rubbing my still burning cheek.
“So why did you finally show up after all these years?” Dahlia asks. “Why are you finally confessing what I’ve always known, that you love me?”
I bring my eyes up to meet Dahlia’s. Her gaze has always done something to me. I thought maybe now I’d be immune to it, but there’s something there that unwraps me. She takes the monster out of me. Cages it, so I can breathe properly. “Because I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of pretending that not loving you is better than loving you and losing you.”
“That’s why you spent almost twenty years away? Because you were afraid to love me? I knew it,” she says, turning her gaze away, looking angry.
“In the beginning I was afraid and then things got complicated and I couldn’t get back to you even if I wanted to,” I say and pause, gauging her reaction. “I got in trouble and I had to hide.”
She doesn’t give anything away. God, I love this woman. Dahlia remains stone when others would crumble. She regards me with exactly what I deserve. Nothing at all. And I know it’s an act, but it doesn’t matter, because she’s so good at it that I’m impressed by her.
“I also had a service to pay to a friend and that deterred me,” I say. “Before a year ago I wasn’t really available.”
“You have friends now?” she asks in surprise.
“Just the one,” I say, a lump blistering my throat as Jane pops into my mind.
“Did you marry?”
“Never,” I say, like the idea is preposterous, because it is.
“Were you with someone all this time?”
“Hardly anyone,” I answer honestly. “Just the devil.”
“Did you ever love anyone else?” Dahlia asks, her tone even.
“Not like you,” I say, not wanting to lie to her. The monster in me loved Allouette, and has been tortured by her ever since.
“And this service…?” Dahlia asks in a roundabout way. She’s on the hunt and her mission is clear.
“It was more like a military duty. I helped to rid the earth of evils that would wipe away the fabric of time,” I say dully.
“Oh, is that all you did?” she says, a small smile gracing her lips.
“I read a few good books.”
“So, you haven’t been running scams all this time? Fooling innocent Middlings?” she says, her tone disbelieving.
“No, Dahlia. I haven’t. If you can believe it, I actually became a good guy,” I say, my voice honest, like I’ve never heard it. There’s no snark. No ego to it. “I won’t tell you where I’ve been because all that matters is that I’m here now.”
Dahlia has to realize that I know her life just as everyone does. It’s no mystery. Not like mine. She isn’t going to explain her affairs over the last eighteen years and I won’t question her about them.
“And what happens now that you’re here?” she says, looking at me like she knows how to break me in two and is just waiting to do it. I almost run right then, but decide against it.
Finally, I bolster the strength to say, “I ask you a question.”
“And I answer it?” she says so plainly. Everything is perfect about this woman. Everything. And I never wanted to believe it. But if eighteen years apart hasn’t shattered the illusion, then what will? I can create illusions, but I can’t create an illusion as perfect as Dahlia. She is flawless. Utterly and completely perfect.
“Right,” I say with a nod.
“And then what?”
“And then we decide,” I say, like it’s the obvious answer in this complex equation.
“That sounds ridiculously simple.”
“Life is simple, Dahlia. It’s blokes with too much power who make it complicated,” I say.
“That makes sense,” she says, nodding casually. “Well then, go ahead and ask your question.”
I bring my chin up but look down at her. “Dahlia, do you still love me?” I say and it takes every fiber of my being to force those words out. I’m not a strong man. I’m one granted pow
ers I shouldn’t have. And to ask this question takes everything inside me, but I’m glad I spent that energy, no matter what she says, because then at least I’ll know.
She blinks in surprise at the strange question after a lifetime apart. Then she holds out her hand. “It depends,” she says, her hand hanging in front of us.
“On what?”
“I want to know if I’m still the only one who you have zero control over,” she says.
“That’s how you’ll know if you still love me?” I say, offense creeping into my voice.
“No,” she says, sounding insulted as well. “Of course I love you. I can stop that as easily as I can stop breathing. I just want to know if it’s safe to actually love you. That’s why I want to know if I’m still the only one who you can’t control.”
“Well, I’ve never met anyone since, but maybe now things have changed. I am stronger and you’re an older Middling woman. My powers were always strong on them.” I say.
Her eyes narrow in mock disdain. “Take my hand, Ren,” she says, flicking her still outstretched hand at me. “Tell me if you hear my thoughts.”
I eye the dainty hand, hanging gracefully in the air in front of me. Finally I reach out and take it like I did over eighteen years ago on the night we met. My mind is assaulted by a rush of thoughts but they are all mine. The way her skin feels against mine. Her warmth. The shock she still sends through me overwhelms every single thought. And still not a single one of her thoughts graces my mind. I drop her hand and it floats to her side as her eager eyes stare back at me.
“There’s nothing,” I finally say. “My telepathy doesn’t work on you. And I’m certain I still can’t control you with my mind or hypnosis.”
Dahlia steps forward and blinks at me. She has no idea that her proximity unlaces the parts of me I’ve trapped. The way she moves tears at my resolve. “Then Ren, I think you need to finally allow yourself to admit that I’m one of the few people who absolutely love you for who you are and not because you manipulate me to do so.”
“You really still love me after everything I did to you?” I say, needing to ask the question. Needing to hear the answer.
She takes another step forward, and my heart actually feels like it falls out of the coffin where I buried it. It beats in my chest, unobstructed for the first time in almost two decades. “Of course I do,” she says. “As I told you before, I would never love another like you. I knew it was true then, and it’s always been true. I love you, Ren Lewis. You’re the only man I could ever tolerate. You’re the love of my life. I’ve just been disappointed you’ve missed out on a greater portion of it.”
“I’m here now. And I’d like a second chance,” I say and lean down. A startled breath escapes her. “Are you going to slap me again?” I say with a wry smile.
“Yes, but not on your face,” she says and I pull her into me, my lips instant magnets to hers. Eighteen years to not feel an attraction like this hasn’t been torture. It’s been purgatory. But in Dahlia’s arms I’m reborn. In her arms I’m not Ren, the powerful man with the skills of a god. I’m a normal man. I’m what I’ve always wanted to be. And finally I feel like I deserve this destiny.
Epilogue
Two guards stand outside the compound in Argentina holding automatic rifles. There’s loads more on the inside. I know that because of Trey’s report and also because I surveyed the building while dream traveling. I’m in physical form now. That’s the only way to control minds in this realm, and I have a few minds I plan to take over. The guards stand like a wall in front of the warehouse entrance. They are incredibly vigilant, as I’m sure they’ve been commanded to be. That’s fine. I don’t plan on getting past them. From where I stand some twenty yards away I’m hidden behind an overturned car. It’s probably the result of a vigilante’s attempt to stop Group X. Bloody fools. They probably used force, attempting to break into the compound. Why break in when I can make Antonio come out and see me?
I’ve already taken out the four minions that were charged with retaliating if Antonio was apprehended. They won’t be doing that now. The only one who will suffer when Antonio is punished for his crimes is Antonio. These four men have had the orders from their guerrilla leader wiped clean from their heads. Suggestive memory loss is a helpful tool. I’ll be adding it to my regular arsenal, as well as a few other clever tricks I’ve yet to learn. Teleporting will definitely be one of them.
The entrance to the warehouse opens and a man I know to be Antonio marches out into the sunlight. There’s no one else accompanying him. Even from this distance I spy the dazed look on his face. He’s moving, driven by a force, but doesn’t understand why. I’ve pulled out all the stops for this one. It isn’t the strategy that Trey signed off on and he isn’t going to like it. Let him fire me. I’m not usually a vicious man, but Antonio decided to bomb the wrong Underground station. No one messes with my city and gets away with it.
Antonio has long black greasy hair and he works out way too much. He trudges past his guards and they gaze at him, not quite certain what they’re looking at. I have the guards and Antonio under my mind control. I’m at my capacity, manipulating the minds of three people at once, but I’m also heavily motivated. People can do anything when incentivized.
Antonio halts when he’s six feet away from the soldiers. I know that because I made him take exactly that many paces. His mind is strict and demented and not easy to control, but he’s still no match for me. Suddenly Antonio drops to both knees, putting his hands behind his head as he does. I blink back at the man who maybe can see me since I’m only partially obstructed behind the vehicle. In a week’s time, this man is responsible for the deaths of thousands. He’s a terrorist intent on creating chaos for the sole fact that he’s never known peace inside his own mind.
One guard raises his rifle and points it at Antonio’s oversized head. The lunatic stares in my direction. He has the eyes of an evil man, one without a conscience. I have seen those eyes many times in my life, and I have looked away from them too many times. I have ignored their evil or even flirted with it or pretended that that evil lived in me.
The guard releases the safety on his weapon. He holds it steady and centers on Antonio. I turn just before the shot is fired. Some people need to be ridded from this world, but I don’t want to have their deaths etched across my memory. With a steadying breath I return my gaze to the compound. The soldiers, as instructed, have dropped their weapons and are walking away. Who knows what they will do when I release them. Maybe they will forget that this happened. Maybe they will become productive members of society. My only concern is that I’ve done my job. Antonio lies on the ground, blood puddling out around him.
Although I know I undoubtedly have a conscience, I don’t feel bad for murdering Antonio. I was born a monster. And God created me to take down bad men.
I close my eyes and dream travel back to Los Angeles, where I will generate my body. Dahlia will be waking up soon. I want to be beside her when she opens her eyes. I want to be beside her every morning that she awakes.
The End
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Acknowledgements
Thank you so much to all of my readers. I cannot do this without your support. I’ve had so many of you make preorders or have standing orders for paperbacks and I can’t even express how great that is. Being an author is the hardest profession I’ve ever had, but you all make it so much easier than it would be. Well, I wouldn’t last at all if there weren’t people who wanted to read my books, now would I?
Thank you to my beta readers. The list is long for this book, but each one of you made this book better. A colossal thank you to Heidi, Heidi, Kelly, Melinda, Colleen and Kim. Thanks to Kelly for recruiting more beta readers and for the idea to write this book in the first place. Thanks to Colleen for putting up with me. You have the hard job of reading the rawest manus
cript and I’m sorry that I still refuse to use commas in first drafts…well not really, but I want to be sorry about it. Does that count? Thank you to Heidi for being such a wonderful supporter. I love you all. XOXOOX
Thank you to Katie for beta reading this book to check that my use of the British vernacular was correct. Being spot on was extremely important to me. As a native Texan, I could have bodged this whole thing up, but knowing and having a blighty like you to proof the book sure saved me from looking like a git. You’re the bee’s knees. Thanks for helping me not sound like a tosser when I really want to be regarded as wicked. Bob’s your uncle and other things that I didn’t get the chance to say in this book.
Thank you Christine LePorte, my editor. As I said to Colleen, sorry about the refusal to use commas. I do know what they are. As an English professor, I even know how to use them…kind of. I think it’s just better for everyone if you handle commas. Anyway, thanks for answering all my assorted questions. This book especially threw me for a loop. There was so many concerns, but you are my objective party and I really trust your judgment.
Thank you to Andrei Bat, my cover designer. This has been the most important cover we’ve done so far, because people have such a specific idea of what Ren looks like. And you nailed it. Forever and ever I will have those eyes burned into my memory. And you took my idea and really made it ten times better. Ren, my darling beautiful man, actually looks like a monster, while also being handsome. Thank you!