by Kit Rocha
The last thing Ashwin could anticipate was what any of them were thinking. “No.”
“Dammit, man.” Zeke clapped a hand to Ashwin’s shoulder. “We’re going to work on this. It’ll be an awesome party trick. Just focus.”
“For fuck’s sake, Zeke.” Ana elbowed him aside and gave Ashwin a quick, fierce hug. “Knock him upside the head if he annoys you,” she told him as she pulled back. “That’s what everyone else does.”
“Only Reyes,” Zeke countered. “I’d like to discourage anyone else from picking up that habit, actually.”
“Then stop talking so much.” Reyes laid his hands on Ashwin’s shoulders and studied him for a moment, then grinned. “Welcome to the ranks of the damned. Fun never stops.”
“I’ve noticed,” he answered, and though it wasn’t meant to be a joke, Reyes threw back his head with a laugh.
Hunter stood beside him. He didn’t touch Ashwin, made no move to embrace him or even shake his hand, but it didn’t feel like a personal slight. He recognized his own patient reserve in the younger man as Hunter nodded slowly, one corner of his mouth tilting up in a rare smile.
Ivan was just as silent, clasping Ashwin’s hand with bruising pressure that might or might not be a challenge. Ashwin couldn’t tell—Ivan’s chilly blue eyes were as blank as his own had ever been. Bishop’s grip was almost as hard, but the gleam in his dark eyes was sheer anticipation. “I can’t wait to get you in the sparring ring.”
“I agree,” Gabe said, pulling Ashwin into the same sort of back-pounding hug Deacon had given him. “I imagine we all have a lot we can learn from you.”
The furrow between Ivan’s brow deepened at that, but Ana’s expression brightened with an eagerness that pricked something inside Ashwin.
Training was the only part of that relentless job in Eden that he’d actually...no, enjoyed was too strong a word. With most of the Special Tasks soldiers, any satisfaction at the transfer of knowledge and skill had been balanced out by his primary mission—assessing their weaknesses for the day he’d have to kill them.
But the process itself appealed to him. Maximizing effectiveness. Carving away vulnerabilities. Honing talent until it gleamed. He could do that here with a clean conscience—certainly none of the Riders were likely to turn their skills toward plundering the sectors and wreaking havoc.
“I can do that,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow—”
“Not tomorrow,” Lucio interrupted, slinging a friendly arm around Ashwin’s shoulders. “Nobody’s getting up before noon. You’ve still got to go on your welcome ride.”
Ashwin looked questioningly at Gideon, who laughed and shook his head. “My part in this is done. Your brothers—” Gideon winked at Ana, “—and sister will take it from here.”
Metal jangled as Deacon held up a set of keys with an amused, expectant expression. “You do know how to ride a motorcycle, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
Zeke interrupted him with a laugh. “No buts. Come on!”
The Riders contracted into a group around him, hustling him toward the door. He cast one last glance at Gideon, who stood next to the candle illuminating Ashwin’s portrait, studying it thoughtfully. Then they were out the door, their laughter and chatter filling the solemn atrium as they hustled him toward the back corridor that led to the parking lot.
All of the Riders’ motorcycles were there, lined up in a gleaming row that caught the last rays of sunlight. Most had been painted in the bright, vivid colors so beloved in Sector One, but the bike at the end of the line was simple, pristine black and chrome.
Ana nudged Ashwin toward it. “You can decide if you want it detailed later,” she said. “But Lucio and I have been working on it all week. She runs like a dream.”
Deacon held out the keys. The metal had warmed from his grip, but the sharp edges still scraped Ashwin’s skin as he closed his fist around the unexpected prize. “You’re giving me a motorcycle?”
“What else are you gonna do, patrol the sector on foot?” Deacon pushed him toward the bike. “Try it out.”
Ashwin approached and swung his leg over the seat. As the engine purred to life, he tried to slot the bike into the same category as any equipment requisition. Gideon wanted him to do a job, and this would help him do it more efficiently. Ascribing any deeper meaning to it was needlessly sentimental.
But then the parking lot was full of the rumble of engines, the vibration of it settling in his bones. Deacon pulled out of the parking lot, and Ashwin’s body performed the necessary maneuvers to follow. The bike operated so smoothly he barely had to think about it.
It left too much of his attention free to focus on the rawness. On the vibrations. On the tangy sensation of yearning that mounted as they broke free of the trees and spread out on the main road, riding toward the sunlit Sierra Nevada peaks.
It was the privilege of Makhai soldiers to operate with an autonomy alien to the strict hierarchy of the Base. They were sent on extended undercover missions and trusted to use their best judgment to achieve mission objectives. Ashwin had always valued his independence more than whatever brotherhood the infantry found together, perhaps because he’d known from an early age that it was the only alternative open to him.
For his whole life, men and women had stared into his eyes and found themselves unsettled by what stared back. Even if they didn’t know he was Makhai, but especially when they did. He’d been rejected by the other trainees on the Base. He’d been warily obeyed by the Special Tasks soldiers inside Eden.
Only Kora had ever looked into him and kept smiling. And it had been easy to rationalize her away, because Kora was different. As genetically altered in her own way as he was—and incapable of seeing that darkness always won eventually.
His world had made sense when Kora had been a logical exception to a fundamental rule. But Sector One refused to follow the rules, as if Gideon’s power ran so deep that he could announce the sky wasn’t blue and the people of the sector wouldn’t just believe him, they’d look up and see fluffy white clouds in a sea of green.
He could remake their reality on a whim. And by accepting Ashwin—no matter his motivations—Gideon had upended the physical rules of the universe. He’d bent light. Reversed gravity. He’d created something that should not exist—this emptiness in Ashwin’s chest, a longing for the bonds of brotherhood. For acceptance.
With Kora, the longing had crept over him in mathematically inconsequential increments. It had taken years for that odd, distant desire to bloom into fierce, obsessive craving.
This wanting stole his breath with its suddenness. He tightened his grip on the handlebars, iron discipline keeping him steady. But as they roared into the courtyard of the central temple, Ashwin’s pulse sped with the heady feeling of belonging.
It only intensified as the front doors flew open. Robed priestesses and acolytes spilled down the steps, surrounding him the moment he climbed off his bike. He still didn’t like close physical proximity to strangers, but the way they beamed up at him as they dropped curtsies and thanked him for his sacrifice—
He’d seen that look before. It was the look Dallas O’Kane got from his loyal followers. The look Gideon drew when he walked among his people. Naked respect. Earnest awe.
Hero.
It was antithetical to everything he’d ever been. To the darkness of his past, the body count he’d left in his wake. The blood on his hands and the ambiguousness of his loyalties. Wanting it was as reckless and illogical as wanting to belong to this family of misfit holy mercenaries. As impossible as dreaming of a future with Kora.
Gideon could extend his hand and change the natural rules of his sector, but someday Ashwin would have to cross the border into the real world again. Falling into this fantasy would leave him too weak to survive it when that time came.
But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to believe it. Just for a night.
Lie.
Chapter Fifteen
Kora couldn’t settle down. She’
d helped set up tables and lay out food and drinks in preparation for the bonfire, even though the acolytes flashed her confused looks when they thought she couldn’t see them.
Now, without a task to occupy her, she drifted distractedly, wandering from the light of the growing fire off into the encroaching darkness. Toward the road, her gut twisting into knots, and it wasn’t until she heard the rumble of motorcycle engines that she understood why.
Protectiveness. Concern for Ashwin’s safety and well-being was familiar, but this—this was consuming, an anxiety that bordered on anguish. And it was ridiculous, because he wasn’t in any danger of being harmed on his welcome ride.
Or was he?
The queasy sensation in her stomach worsened. He was in such a precarious position, on the verge of opening himself to a world he’d always considered closed to him, and a single snub or rebuff could bring it all crashing down. It could injure him in ways that a gunshot or a stab wound never could, because he was used to physical pain.
If anyone hurt him—
The bikes rolled into sight, headlights gleaming in the twilight. Her heart thudded painfully, and she held her breath as they slowed to a stop.
Then she saw Ashwin.
He looked like a stranger. It wasn’t just the scuffed denim pants and leather jacket, or the fact that he rattled under the weight of a small fortune’s worth of jewelry. Glinting gold caught the light as he swung off his bike, wearing half a dozen leather straps lined with heavy gold coins. Silver chains clinked against them, adorned with rare jewels that sparkled brightly.
He should have looked absurd, like a pre-Flare pirate showing off his pillaged bounty. But the bright, feverish intensity of his gaze as it locked on to her stole her breath.
Not a stranger. She was staring at the man she’d only caught in glimpses, the one who seethed beneath the tiny fractures in his control.
The tension broke, flooding her with giddy relief—and an entirely different kind of tight anticipation. “Congratulations, Ashwin.”
He smiled. An actual smile, full and easy, and just looking at it made the ground shift beneath her feet. He was walking toward her, sure and confident, utterly focused, and she opened her arms without thought. Ashwin caught her around the waist and lifted her, crushing her body to his as they spun in a dizzy circle. “Thank you, Kora.”
The coins and jewels around his neck were poking her through her shirt, but she clung to him anyway. “I missed you.”
He drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m destabilizing. Rapidly.”
“Let’s call it something else tonight,” she urged, her mouth close to his ear. “Let’s call it...free.”
“Free.” His lips grazed her jaw, and his hand tightened on her hip.
Neither of them anticipated the sudden impact from the side as Zeke hip-checked them with a laugh. “C’mon, Kora. Let us party with him a little bit before he blows out of his own celebration.”
Ashwin turned his head to glare at him, so Kora grasped his chin and directed his gaze back to hers. “Everyone worked so hard to set it up.”
It wasn’t an argument that would have compelled him before. But his grip eased, and he let her slide slowly down his body until her feet touched the packed earth. “All right.”
She held on to his hand, unwilling to relinquish that single point of contact. Reyes rolled his eyes as he walked by, but hid the expression as Maricela approached.
He bowed his head. “Miss Rios. If you haven’t promised the first dance to anyone, I’d be honored.”
“Maybe,” she said lightly. “Probably not, but maybe.”
His formal mien melted into a wicked grin, and he winked at Kora before heading toward the fire.
Maricela stretched up on her toes to kiss Ashwin’s cheek, and he didn’t even flinch away from the contact. “What are you drinking tonight, Rider?”
“Whatever Kora’s having.”
“Just punch.” Before, the very thought of liquor had turned her stomach. Now, she couldn’t bear the thought of anything that might dull the crisp edges of her senses. She wanted to soak in everything about this night—the noise, the sharp, woodsy scent of the fire, the chill of the air on her skin.
The heat of Ashwin’s hand around hers.
Maricela bit her lip, but it couldn’t hide her smile. “Coming right up.”
Del was the next to approach, free of her robes for once and wearing jeans under her thick, knitted sweater. She smiled and extended her hands, offering Ashwin an exquisitely tooled leather belt with two sheathed knives hanging from it.
He released Kora’s hand to accept it and pulled out one of the blades, his eyebrows climbing swiftly as he turned it so the firelight caught the shimmering edge. “Folded steel. It’s impeccable.”
“Our blacksmith and her apprentice made it. Mostly they make kitchen knives, because there isn’t much call for anything else in Sector One. But that’s our gift to new Riders. They can make swords, too, though Gabe’s usually the only one who takes them up on it.”
He slid the knife back and threaded the belt and the sheaths through his belt loops with graceful efficiency. When the silver buckle was fastened, he reclaimed Kora’s hand, twining their fingers together. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Instead of touching Ashwin, Del reached out to squeeze Kora’s shoulder gently. “Enjoy the celebration.”
The insinuation was unmistakable. Kora muffled a laugh against Ashwin’s shoulder.
When she melted back into the shadows, Ashwin pulled her closer. “They’re...teasing us.”
“Uh-huh. It’s pretty clear they expect us to sneak off at the first opportunity.”
His thumb traced a slow, suggestive circle across the back of her hand. “I’m good at sneaking.”
Goose bumps rose on her skin, not just at the contact, but at the promise simmering in his words. “I’m not, but you could teach me.”
He lifted their joined hands, so graceful and easy it was almost like a dance as he looped his arm over her head and stepped behind her. Their entwined fingers settled near her hip as his arm pressed to her stomach, tugging her back against him. “Sneaking is about timing,” he murmured, taking a step back and bringing her with him. “And awareness. I could close my eyes and tell you where every person is standing.”
His heat surrounded her now, and she leaned into it. “Because you already committed it all to memory, or you just know?”
“I always know.” Another step took them into the shadows. “Practically speaking, yes, I committed it to memory. But I don’t have to think about it. It’s training.”
With twilight slipping away, the shadows beneath the trees hid them completely. “Does it matter where they are? They’ll see us if we try to slip into the barracks, and the path to the palace is on the other side of the bonfire.”
“There’s another path.” The hard bite of the gold and jewels against her back contrasted with the soft brush of his fingers up her arm. “Through the orchard, leading to the family wing. The palace guard might see us, but they won’t stop you.”
“Another path?” She’d lived here for months, and she’d never seen it.
“Mm-hmm.” His lips touched her temple. “We should go, before we get caught. Or distracted. Distraction is bad for sneaking.”
She bit her lip to silence a whimper.
Warm breath feathered over her ear. “Focus, Kora.”
She was already turning in his arms when he stepped back, pulling her along as he melted deeper into the darkness.
Ashwin didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t falter as he slipped between the trees. She knew his night vision was excellent, but this seemed more like muscle memory, as if he’d traveled through the woods often enough to know the way.
Then they broke out into the moonlight, and she knew where they were—the cherry orchard. She’d watched the trees bloom from her bedroom window, moved by their size as much as their beauty. The orchard was old, planted under the direction of the Proph
et, so the trees were larger, gnarled and weathered.
The petals were falling now. She’d mourned the trees shedding their blossoms from her window, but from down here, it seemed like magic, a constant rain of soft pink and white floating on the breeze.
Ashwin touched her chin, tilting her face to his. He studied her, his brows drawn together, but she sensed an echo of her own awe in him. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” he murmured. “Feeling.”
“Because no one ever told me not to.” She caught one of the petals as it drifted past. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” He traced his knuckle over her cheek. “How do you know if something is beautiful? If you find satisfaction in looking at it?”
“Sometimes.” She shivered. “Your heart races, or it’s hard to breathe. Or you just have to stop for a minute and marvel at how perfect the universe is, to have created something like that.”
Another petal drifted toward her shoulder. Ashwin snared it and rubbed it between his fingers, and the heady scent filled the air. “Then I never saw beauty before I saw you.”
Her chest ached. She ached—to kiss him, to hold him. To pull him down to the petal-strewn earth. Instead, she slipped her hand back into his and smiled. “I know the way from here.”
The stone path at the edge of the orchard led past the greenhouse. Kora barely noticed the guards, and the only indication that they saw her and Ashwin was the tracking of their gazes as they walked past.
The kitchen door was closest, but Kora kept walking to the one that connected to the main foyer via a small side hall. She didn’t know why, except that she didn’t want to lead him up the back stairs to her bedroom. That would make this feel too much like a secret tryst, a clandestine affair. And she needed this to be real, the kind of thing no one could deny.
So she pulled him up the wide, curved staircase that faced the front doors, their steps echoing in the empty hall. She didn’t look back, and she didn’t stop until she reached her door, though her hands had started to tremble.
“Kora.” His arms went around her again, strong and solid. “Is this what you want? Me, in your bed?”