Reckless Cruel Heirs

by Olivia Wildenstein

  I shut my eyes. Not so much because I was embarrassed, but because I was in pain, and I didn’t want him to freak and pull out. When he didn’t push in any farther, I rocked my hips, bearing down on him.

  He hissed. So did I. Most probably not for the same reasons.

  Sweat broke out over my upper lip. I licked it off.

  “This was your first time?” His tone was full of something—regret, reproach. Definitely not smugness.

  I opened my eyes to ascertain his mood: not happy. His jaw was getting a full workout from how unhappy he was.

  Before my next breath, he pulled out and set me down.

  Heat glided down my inner thigh. And then heat glided down my cheeks. I closed my eyes again, floundering in how very awkward it had all gotten.

  His hands came up to my face, gentle and trembling. “Look at me, Trifecta.”

  I lifted my lids, sent him a death glare. “What?”

  His brows drew together. “Whoa there.”

  I turned my face to the side. Well tried to anyway. Only my eyeballs managed to move.

  His thumbs dragged across my cheekbones, skipping over the bruised skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I assumed you knew.”

  “How could I have known?” His eyebrows slanted some more. “More importantly, though, why are you mad?”

  “You looked horrified.”

  He snorted. “That was most definitely not horror, baby. Shock and worry, but trust me, zero horror.”

  “Then why did you stop?”

  “Because your first time shouldn’t be against a wall in a cave that smells of wet fur when you’re feeling so emotional.”

  “I don’t care about the how or the where. All I care about . . . all I’ve ever cared about is the who.”

  “I’d ask if you’re certain you want me to be that person, but it’s a little late now.” His arms came around me and towed my stiff body into his. “I know it sounds pretentious, then again I am a pretentious ass, right . . .?”

  My snort was muffled by his satiny skin.

  “But thank you for giving me that honor.”

  I rolled my eyes behind my lids.

  “Now, let’s start over,” he said, pulling away from me.

  “I’m pretty sure we can’t.” I gestured to the trickle of blood on my calf.

  Remo towed me toward the laid-out pelts. “What I meant was, let’s try this again. Let me make this . . . better.” He let go of my hand, walked over to our balled T-shirts, picked one up at random, then returned to me. Before I could figure what he planned on doing with it, he crouched and wiped the blood off my leg before tossing it aside.

  “I liked it, Remo.” Sure the stabbing pain had put a tiny damper on how much I’d liked it, but the fact remained that I’d enjoyed the brief fullness, the quick slip and slide of flesh, the hiss of pleasure that had fallen from his lips. “You sounded like you liked it, too. Well, until . . .” I nibbled on the inside of my mouth.

  “I did. Very much.” He pushed long strands of hair off my face and tucked them behind my ear. “I promise you plenty of cavemen sex later, but let me make your first—”

  “Second.”

  “I believe it still counts as your first—”

  “Technically not.”

  He shot me a pointed look that shut me right up. “Lie down, woman. Unless you’d rather argue semantics.”

  I smiled; he smiled back. And just like that, all the awkwardness was gone, and my heart finally discarded all the different emotions that had beat within it, settling on a single one—joy.

  43

  The Wake-Up Call

  I woke up to Remo’s nails gliding up and down the arm I’d slung over him last night and hadn’t removed, afraid he might decide to leave while I slept. I’d never thought of myself as clingy but perhaps I’d be one of those girlfriends.

  He must’ve heard my mind whirring, because his fingers stopped traipsing across my skin, and he turned to face me on our furred pallet. “Hey.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m guessing the same way I look.”

  “Beautiful, then? Pleased to hear it.”

  I rolled my eyes, the prickly violet fur digging into my raw cheek. “I was thinking more along the lines of giant bruise.”

  Remo slid his arm under my neck and pulled me against him, pillowing my injured cheek on his bicep, which wasn’t much softer than the fur but a lot smoother.

  The way his eyes sank into mine made me forget all about my throbbing face. He leaned in, pressed a feather-light kiss to my mouth. “We should get up.”

  “We should.”

  Neither of us moved.

  In truth, I wasn’t sure I could. I really did feel like a massive hematoma. Although the main reason for my inaction was bliss. I flicked a lock of red hair out of his eyes, letting my fingers linger on his birthmark. “Can’t believe I broke all my rules.”

  “What rules were those?” His words were so husky they sent a little thrill up my spine.

  “Kissing redheads with the last name Farrow.”

  “Oh. Those.”

  I smiled at his evident contempt for my rules.

  “You had too many standards to begin with.”

  I popped an eyebrow up. “Too many? Or none that pleased you?”

  “Well, I did feel a little singled out. Redheads with the last name Farrow? We aren’t many . . .” His mind must’ve wandered to the other redhead in his family, because his gaze turned somber.

  “You’ll see them again,” I said, threading my fingers through the hand resting on his abdomen.

  He didn’t say anything for a while, then, “I can’t believe Karsyn tried to kill you.”

  Felt like a million years ago. “Make sure to tell him you like me when we get back, so that he doesn’t try to recoup his dust through murder.”

  His bicep flexed, curling around me as though to protect me from an invisible source of danger.

  To dissolve the sudden dark cloud dangling over us, I said, “For someone who told everyone my blood was poisonous, you didn’t seem too frightened by it last night.”

  A grunt rumbled through his chest. “Because my heart’s thankfully nowhere near my cock.”

  I played with his fingers.

  “My very large cock.”

  “You did not just say that.”

  “I didn’t want you to forget.”

  “Like I could. I think you might’ve destroyed me.”

  “I tried my hardest.”

  “Tell me that pun wasn’t planned.”

  His answering brazen smile made me swat him.

  “Ouch,” he whispered.

  “Softie.”

  He rolled over me, bracketing my head between both his forearms. “There is nothing soft about me.”

  A grin threatened to cleave my cheeks in half.

  “Amara!”

  My smile warped off my face, and my eyelashes slammed against my browbone. I shoved Remo off and sat, and then I shot up to my feet, the pounding in my chest rivaling the one at the apex of my thighs.

  I turned toward Remo. “You heard my mother’s voice too, right?”

  “Remo!” This time, Faith.

  Remo grabbed me around the waist and twirled me.

  “We’re naked,” I whispered in horror.

  “And saved.”

  “But we’re naked, and our mothers are here,” I hissed, because . . . priorities. “Put me down.”

  “Giya!” Nima called out.

  I scrambled for our clothes, before remembering the state they were in.

  “Amara!” Nima’s voice was so close I assumed she’d just entered the cave system.

  My suit caught my eye, and although I’d sworn to never put it on without my Infinity, I grabbed it and yanked it up one leg.

  Remo already had his tunic pants on, and since he was a guy, it wasn’t like he needed anything else to look decent. So. Unfair.

  My foot
got jammed inside one pantleg, and I fell. I whimpered from the ensuing series of aches and pains. Remo came to my rescue. Soon, he was stretching the maddening fabric up my legs. Teeth gritted, I shoved one arm through, then the other. At least I no longer had sleeves to contend with.

  “Can you try to run into another cave . . .?” I whispered as he zipped me up so fast most of my hair caught in the metal teeth.

  “Remo?” Faith called out.

  Although I didn’t have a built-in sonar, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she was standing in front of the coiled entrance of our little cave. I brought the zipper back down, freed my hair, then tugged it back up.

  “A bit late for that, Trifecta.”

  Here I’d thought all the blood had drained from my body, but nope . . . it had simply relocated into my cheeks. “What’ll they think?”

  “That prison had its perks.” He waggled his brows.

  I didn’t smile, but that might’ve been because his mother was standing right in front of me, blue eyes as wide as her mouth.

  My horror-stricken expression supersized Remo’s grin. He swung around and crossed the very short distance toward his mother, whom he engulfed in a hug. She kept staring at me over his shoulder.

  I dropped my gaze to a golden stripe in the rumpled fur pelts, ogled it so hard the gold blended with the purple.

  “Amara?” my mother shouted.

  “She’s in here, Cat,” Faith called out.

  Cat? I glanced back over at Remo’s mother, unable to read much of anything in her guarded eyes, but she’d called my mother Cat. She’d never called my mother Cat.

  “Oh, thank Gejaiwe.” Nima swung into the room and arrowed straight for me, then crushed me against her. “You’re alive! Oh, Amara . . . Oh, baby.” She shuddered. “My baby.” Another shudder. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

  “I am.”

  She didn’t seem to have noticed Remo, but of course, my mother never missed a thing. Once she’d gotten her shuddering under control, she asked in a thankfully low voice, “Do I want to know why you’re sharing a cave with Remo and not Giya?”

  I was too choked and shocked to answer. Not that I especially wanted to answer her. I buried my face in her neck and sobbed like a big baby. After a few more minutes of waterworks, I murmured, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  Nima smoothed my hair back. “Oh, abiwoojin . . .” she croaked. “I’m so sorry it took us so long to find you.”

  I pulled away from her. “How did you . . . find us?”

  Her lips were pressed into such a firm line they almost appeared thin. “Joshua Locklear finally came forward with the information.” Her eyes tracked over my face, snagging on my cheek. “How did you get that bruise?”

  When another sob tripped out of my trembling lips, she hugged me back against her, chest heaving. Was my hard-as-nails mother crying? My mother never cried. At least, never in front of me. She pressed away and cradled my cheeks, her thumbs stroking away my tears while so many rolled down her face.

  “Is Iba here, too?”

  Her fingers stilled, and she sniffed. “No. He stayed with Gregor.” When I was a kid and did something naughty, Nima would pronounce my name the exact same way she’d just spoken Gregor’s, which told me the wariff was in big trouble.

  “Is it just the two of you?” I asked.

  “Lily came too. As well as a handful of guards.”

  Had she seen Cruz, yet? Before I could ask, I said, “Sook! He’s not here.”

  “We know. Kajika got him out a few minutes before we came in.” Her eyes became incendiary. “If your father doesn’t kill Gregor, I will. How could he have kept a place like this from us?”

  I darted a worried glance toward Faith and Remo, whose hushed conversation had come to a standstill. I doubted either of them wanted to hear Nima discuss Gregor’s execution.

  “Did he know we were in here?” Remo’s question made me suck in a breath.

  I hadn’t even considered Gregor could know and leave us inside. Why would he? Or rather, why would he leave the apple in play if it could actually kill us off?

  “No. Dad swore he didn’t know.” Faith stared up at her boy, then at me. “I’m sorry, Amara.”

  I frowned.

  “For what I said, and how I behaved the night the two of you—”

  Remo draped an arm around her shaking shoulders, tucked her head under his chin before kissing the top of it. It was so darn sweet that if I hadn’t already chosen him, I would’ve at that very moment.

  Nima took my hand. “Let’s go home.”

  Home . . . I considered pinching myself to make sure this was actually happening.

  Remo slid me a gentle smile as we passed by him and Faith, one that made me want to reach out and take his hand. I didn’t, though, since I was already holding my mother’s. Plus his mom was right there . . .

  Nima came to a brutal halt outside our cave as her gaze alighted on the body standing across the sandy aisle from us—Cruz. Neenee’s fist was already shoved against her mouth, and her gray eyes shimmered with tears, the same tears that seemed to adorn everyone’s faces. Well, everyone but Remo’s, stoic man that he was.

  “Cruz?” Nima whispered, his name rolling off her tongue. “Oh, Great Gejaiwe, Cruz!” She dropped my hand and covered the distance between them in three quick strides. She didn’t touch him. Didn’t hug him. Just stared unblinkingly, taking in the flash of green behind wayward black curls, the hardened lines of his face, the soft mouth, the cords of lean muscles stretching out from his neck like calimbor roots.

  He smiled at her. “Hi, Cat.”

  She released a small, ragged peep, then finally touched his jaw. Just for a second, as though to make sure he was made of matter and not air. Once she’d ascertained he wasn’t a wandering spirit, she reeled her hand back and laid it over her heart.

  Cruz tipped her a quiet smile, then directed his attention toward my aunt. “Lily.”

  As Giya circled an arm around her mother’s waist, as though sensing Neenee would need the support to stay upright, she eyed me, then Remo, who stood beside me, so close that our hands grazed.

  Remo’s pinky hooked mine, and I swear, my entire body reacted as though I’d been electrocuted by a Glade eel. I thought I’d been happy before falling asleep, but it didn’t come close to how I felt at that moment. Especially when I found him smiling down at me, that gorgeous, crooked smile I’d mistaken for smugness instead of what it truly was: a mix of bashfulness and heart.

  A soft sob whispered over the walls of the cave, reminding me that we weren’t alone. I found Cruz stepping toward Neenee, who was shaking as hard as a panem leaf during a windstorm. It was such a strange sight to behold: Cruz looking more like her son than an ex-fiancé. I couldn’t imagine how strange it must’ve been for them to lay eyes on each other after so many years.

  His hands came around her, and then his lips moved gently against her ear, pouring words that seemed to bring her more grief than comfort. Her arms snared him, too, and a spine-tingling rush of air splintered out of her mouth.

  The lost one had been found, and yet the pain of loss lingered.

  How long would it last? Forever? Could such agony ever be forgotten?

  Remo hooked my fingers, and I crushed his palm, wishing nothing would tear us apart but knowing something or someone eventually would.

  However united or magical, we remained two separate vulnerable beings.

  44

  Home

  “Where’s Kiera?” Giya’s question had me glancing around the dark space.

  “Last I saw her, she was by the train crater, skinning one of the tigri,” Cruz said.

  I wrinkled my nose, imagining her elbow-deep in gore. I hoped it was helping her work through her grief.

  “And Quinn?” Remo asked.

  Cruz frowned. “Quinn bit the apple yesterday. Didn’t Amara tell you?”

  Remo’s eyes, as well as everyone else’s, fell on me. “No. She failed
to mention that.”

  My cheeks flooded with heat, which worsened when their eyes fell to our clasped hands. My fingers froze and skidded from his. He tried to catch them, but I stepped away.

  “Quinn?” Nima asked.

  “Forest Press Quinn,” Cruz said, and Nima gasped.

  “If you think that’s crazy, Neenee, wait till you learn who else was stashed in here,” Giya added.

  “Who?” Her question was a rush of breath.

  “Good old Uncle Kingston.”

  “Kingston?” Nima’s voice was so murderously sharp it would’ve sliced my traitorous uncle wide open had he still had a body to rip through.

  “He’s gone, though. Amara made him bite the apple.” A hint of pride edged my cousin’s proclamation.

  “What are you all talking about, biting apples?” Faith asked.

  Remo’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t Grandfather tell you anything before he let you in here?”

  “He was . . . indisposed when we were shown through the portal.” Faith’s mouth pursed.

  Indisposed? I wanted to know what that meant, but shouting erupted at the mouth of the cave as two lucionaga dragged in an indignant Kiera. “Massina, we’ve canvassed the cell and found one more prisoner. What would you like us to do with her?”

  Nima and Lily spun around.

  “Let her go.” Startlingly, it was my voice which rang out.

  Although Kiera stopped snarling at the thick-armed guards restraining her, she narrowed her red-rimmed eyes on me. She hated me. I hoped that in time, she would see I wasn’t to blame for Quinn’s suicide. The guards looked between Nima and me, and then they looked at Remo.

  “You heard your prinsisa,” Remo growled. “Unhand the girl!”

  At least now I knew where I stood on the ladder of command—under Remo.

  “Thank you,” I murmured to him.

  “They shouldn’t defer to me.” His jaw was so clenched it was a wonder he managed to produce words, much less entire sentences. He stalked toward his fellow guards, and the rest of us followed.