The Other Side of Truth (The Marked Ones Trilogy Book 3)

by Alicia Kat Vancil

  “But what if she’s a Kakodemoss assassin?” I pleaded as I turned and took a few steps after her.

  Nualla spun around quickly, and I nearly collided with her. “One, you should have thought about that before you slept with her,” she pointed out as she jabbed a finger in my chest. “Two, if she was a Kakodaemon assassin why the frak would she stick around to take a shower?”

  “Uh…” I really had no fucking answer for that.

  “Bye, Travis,” Nualla called out over her shoulder as she walked out of my apartment, waving. “See you at lunch if you’re not dead.”

  I stared after Nualla for a long moment before I finally shut my apartment door. Then I turned slowly back toward my room.

  Oh gods, I was so royally screwed.

  I crept through my room to the open door of the bathroom, and peered in cautiously. The curvy shape of a girl moved behind the steamy glass of the shower, and I froze. The memories of her soft, beautiful body moving against mine made my heart slam harder in my chest and my breath come up short.

  As if she sensed that someone was watching her, Parker stilled, but only for a second before she went back to running her hands through her hair.

  “If you’re someone other than Travis Centrina, know that I’m well-practiced in a dozen forms of combat and could snap you like a twig. If you are Travis Centrina, I might just do that anyway,” Parker stated with a deadly calm.

  “I…deserved that,” I breathed out on a shaky breath.

  Parker looked over at me and even through the foggy glass I could see the fierceness burning in her eyes. “You left me,” she stated accusingly before she turned her back on me.

  “I…I’m sorry,” I said heavily.

  “So what do you have to say for yourself?” she asked as she clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her back still to me.

  “Apparently you’re a Kakodaemon?” I said with a nervous shrug.

  She turned around quickly, and opened the shower door. “Is that why you ran off?”

  I just gaped at her in disbelief. “Of course! It scared the fuck out of me to wake up with a red-horned girl in my bed.”

  She let out a sigh, and folded her arms under her bare chest. “Oh, good, I thought it was something else.”

  “Like what?!” I yelped.

  Parker looked to the side, and ran her teeth over her bottom lip uncertainly. “I thought maybe you regretted last night.”

  “Oh hells fucking no, last night was amazing!” I blurted out stupidly.

  “Really?” Parker asked as she looked up at me shyly from beneath her lashes.

  “If you couldn’t tell, then I did a really shitty job and I’m sorry.”

  Parker snorted a small laugh, and I grinned along with her. Then it finally seemed to register in my brain that she was standing in front of me in all her wet, naked glory.

  I coughed, and swallowed hard as I tried desperately to not trace her naked shape with my eyes. But as the blush started to creep across my cheeks, I gave up and looked away as I ran my hand back through my hair.

  “Just to ease my anxiety, you weren’t sent here to kill me or anything were you?”

  “Of course not,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at me before she ducked her head back into the water stream of the shower. “And before you ask, yes, Kiskei knows what I am—and Alex.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Because explaining to them how I found out is really low on my list of things I ever want to have to do.”

  Parker giggled, and I cracked a crooked grin.

  The conversation drifted to silence, and I just stood there unsure of what to do or say next. I ran my sweaty palms down my jeans before I leaned against the wall.

  Parker leaned back, and peered out the still open shower door. “Why are you just standing out there? Are you waiting for a formal invitation or something?”

  “Sorry, I was just a tad bit concerned that you might kill me,” I said wryly as I pulled my shirt over my head.

  “Trust me, if it was my intention to kill you, you would already be dead,” Parker stated with a mischievous grin.

  “’Cause that makes me feel so much better,” I said sarcastically as I leaned against the counter to unlace my shoes.

  I stood awkwardly in the corner of the shower against the wall, watching the streams of water snake their way down Parker’s perfectly formed—

  Breathe, Travis, just breathe. You’ve seen her naked before. This is nothing to get so worked up about.

  I needed a distraction—any distraction. I looked up at the ceiling and asked, “So how did it happen?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You being a Kakodaemon, how did it happen?” I asked again as I forced myself to keep my eyes on her face.

  Parker froze and her hands slipped slowly down from her head. “I’m not actually Kakodaemon, or Kalodaemon. I’m something in between.”

  “Oh.” I opened my mouth to ask how something like that could even happen, but stopped. There was something about her in this moment—naked and wet in the warm cocoon of the shower steam—that made asking such a question seem wrong. So I asked something else—something that seemed far less…private.

  “How is it that you appear Kalodaemon? I mean, do you always look that way unless you’ve just slept with someone? Like some weird chemical reaction or something?” I babbled nervously as I rubbed shampoo into my hair.

  Parker looked at me, and I immediately felt stupid. “You come up with the weirdest things,” she said with a hint of a smile that grew broader with each heartbeat. “If you must know, I have a pendant that alters my appearance so I appear Kalodaemon.”

  “Oh,” I said as I traded places with her and stuck my head under the stream of water. “Is it that one you always wear?” It was probably like the ones Tylia had found on the black market.

  Parker didn’t answer, and when I emerged from the water she was watching me. “What?” I asked uneasily.

  Parker just gaped at me, a bit startled. “You have a Mark on your back.”

  “Well probably, I mean you did dig your nails in there pretty good last night as I remem—” she was shaking her head. “—ber.”

  “No, I meant like a Marked Ones’ Mark,” she clarified as she traced the pattern of the Mark in the air in front of her.

  “What?” I said, slowly dropping my hands down to my sides.

  “You have a Marked Ones’ Mark right in the center of your back. In the exact same place as your brother. It’s much fainter, but it’s there, clear as day.”

  A million thoughts raced through my head, and then collided.

  “You’re going to make me go back to your labs and run me through a bunch of tests again, aren’t you?” I asked flatly.

  “Oh, most definitely,” she confirmed with a slight smirk. “Just not right this moment.”

  “Oh fabulous, because I was hoping to finish with this shower and maybe put some clothes on first,” I said sarcastically as I rinsed off the remaining soap suds that were still clinging to my ribs.

  Parker ran a finger down my chest and abs until she reached the crest of my hip bone. “Well…I guess you could put clothes on. Or…”

  My brow furrowed. “Or? Or what?”

  In answer Parker ran the inside of her thigh across my leg and slipped her hands behind my neck. The entire length of her body pressing up against mine.

  “Oh,” I said, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise as I caught her meaning. “I like, or. Let’s go with or.”

  How Crappy Art Saved the Free World

  Friday, November 16th

  PATRICK

  “Is that a urinal?” Connor asked as he cocked his head to one side, and looked at the sculpture entitled Fountain.

  “Yep,” I said with a smirk as I read
the description.

  “Seriously?” Connor said in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up.

  “Apparently?” I replied with a snort.

  “What the fuck?!” Connor practically shouted in disgust.

  A bunch of tourists glared at him angrily, and we quickly moved on to the next exhibit. As part of his final research paper for his 20th Century Art History class at the Academy, Connor was required to visit the SFMOMA and complete a weird scavenger-art-hunt-packet-thing and then write a paper about some of the pieces there. So naturally, he had dragged me along to share his pain.

  “This class is seriously like the most depressing thing ever,” Connor grumbled as he scrawled something onto his packet of papers with a pencil.

  “Why?” I asked, arching one eyebrow.

  “Because the art we’re studying just gets uglier every week. And they’re basically trying to get us to worship a bunch of dudes who made art that looks like they somehow tied paint brushes to a cat and set it loose,” Connor ranted as he followed the instructions in the packet, leading us through the room of exhibits and into the next.

  “I heard the CIA funded Pollock to combat Communism,” I commented as we passed a particularly hideous I-have-no-clue-what.

  “Oh don’t even get me started on that guy,” Connor said as he pointed his pencil at me. “That guy was a total hack.”

  I cracked a smile as I turned to the next exhibit.

  “Is that a fork?” Connor asked in disbelief as he stared up at the mobile hanging above us.

  “Yep,” I replied, rising both my eyebrows at the artwork in question.

  “Seriously, what is this crap, and why should I care?” Connor asked sourly as he scowled up at the mobile.

  “Because half of art is making something awesome,” I answered as I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets.

  “What’s the other half?” Connor asked as he gave me a dubious look.

  “Convincing someone it’s worth buying,” I replied with an amused, crooked grin.

  Connor looked at me, then at the mobile. “I take that back, these guys were geniuses. Because this stuff seriously sucks.”

  I snorted out a laugh as Connor jotted something down in the packet, and we moved on to the next exhibit.

  “‘What was this artist’s unique condition, and how did it influence how he depicted the world around him?’” Connor read aloud as he looked up at the painting then back down at his packet. “How the fuck should I know?” Connor said indignantly. “Unless his ‘unique condition’ was that he was having a seizure when he made it.”

  “No, you see Kandinsky had—” I froze. It couldn’t be that simple.

  “Patrick…you okay?” Connor asked uneasily.

  I grabbed his shoulder. “Read that again!”

  “What?!” Connor yelped.

  “Read the question again,” I said in a manic rush, my heart beating a rapid rhythm against my chest.

  “‘What was this artist’s unique condition, and how did it influence how he depicted the world around him?’” Connor repeated with a concerned look.

  …used his unique condition to depict the world around him.

  That was it. It was so simple. So simple it was crazy brilliant. I finally knew how I was going to ask for Nualla’s forgiveness.

  “Thanks!” I said before I turned, and quickly started walking toward the gift shop.

  “Patrick, where are you going!” Connor called out as he followed after me.

  “I think I figured out a way to make it alright.”

  “Make what alright?”

  “Me and Nualla,” I answered as I turned to face him.

  He stopped abruptly, his mouth dropping open. “Whoa, seriously?”

  “Maybe,” I replied, my mind already starting to run wild with ideas. “But look, I have to go, okay?”

  “Uh, sure. Whatever you need, dude.”

  “Thanks, Connor!” I said quickly as I started off toward the gift shop again.

  “Oh hey, did you know the answer to the question?” Connor called after me.

  “He had synesthesia,” I called back over my shoulder.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Look it up, genius!” I replied with a slightly unhinged grin as I entered the shop.

  It wasn’t a foolproof plan—not by any stretch of the imagination—but it was better than nothing.

  TRAVIS

  “So…did you get things figured out with Parker?” Nualla asked as I dropped down into the seat across from her in the cafeteria. My hard plastic tray clattering against the surface of the table.

  “Um…you could say that,” I answered as I rested my chin on my palm.

  “You slept with her again, didn’t you?” Nualla stated flatly.

  “Twice,” I said, with a devilish grin as I held up two fingers.

  “You’re hopeless,” Nualla huffed, rolling her eyes.

  “Oh probably,” I agreed dreamily as I looked off across the room of people.

  “So are you dating now?” Nualla asked after a moment.

  “That’s a good question,” I replied, looking back at her.

  “You mean you don’t know?” Nualla asked dubiously.

  “I was kinda too distracted to ask,” I admitted with a shrug, because it was the truth.

  “You’re hopeless,” Nualla said again with exasperation.

  “Just giving you a taste of your own medicine,” I countered with a smirk.

  Nualla glared at me before she shoved her fork into her lunch and asked, “So is Parker your One?”

  I froze. Was she? Was that what this feeling was? I felt restless and giddy and my heart was beating a million miles a minute, but I didn’t feel like I was free-falling through life for once. I felt… In the maelstrom of things rolling through my body, there was this strange calm. But more than that, I felt…happy? I felt truly happy for the first time in so very, very long.

  I looked up at Nualla with large eyes. The realization that the answer was yes, threatening to throw me into a panicked tailspin.

  “I can tell by that look on your face what the answer is, you know,” Nualla stated, her eyes fixed firmly on mine.

  “What do I do?” I asked, my hands starting to shake.

  “Don’t screw it up.”

  “I’m serious, Nualla,” I said with an exasperated huff.

  “So am I, Travis,” Nualla countered with a strange fierceness. “I know you hate being told what to do, but seriously, Travis, do not frak this up. Because if you lose her it will destroy you, sure as anything,” Nualla said with an emotion in her voice I couldn’t place as she stood.

  “Where are you going?” I asked in a rush, a bit startled by the sudden intensity in our conversation.

  “I, uh…I have to go talk to Roy before my next class,” Nualla answered, avoiding looking directly at me.

  I reached out, and grabbed her wrist gently. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

  She hesitated a moment too long before answering, “Of course.”

  I let her go, and she walked swiftly out of the cafeteria. And I just stared off after her until she disappeared.

  It was a lie. She was lying to me. Me of all people. But why?

  Restraint Is Not One of My Many Fine Qualities

  Monday, November 19th

  TRAVIS

  A pair of small female hands slid over my eyes as the person leaned close to my ear. At first I thought it was Nualla, but something in the intimacy of the gesture told me it was Parker. Or it could have been the emotions rolling off of her.

  “Guess who?” Parker whispered into my ear before she pressed her lips to my neck. She moved them to the place just under my ear, brushi
ng my lobe with her soft lips.

  “Oh gods…” I moaned before shuddering, and turning to face her. “Why do you do that?”

  “Because you like it,” she replied with a devilish smile.

  I just gaped at her, my mouth hanging open, because there was absolutely nothing I could say. Because I did like it. I really, really liked it.

  “And you are positively adorkable when you’re flustered,” she added as she slid down onto my lap, her knees straddling me, and her skirt riding so dangerously high that I could almost see her panties.

  “Parker, what are you doing?” I asked as my eyes darted to the door. “We’re in the middle of my lab and—”

  She ignored me, and started kissing my neck again. “Oh,” I moaned.

  I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to regain my composure, but it was a battle I wasn’t going to win and she knew it. “And the frakkin’ door’s open!”

  “And? What are you going to do about it?” Parker asked as her fingers traced the edge of my jeans, brushing against bare skin. Her British accent making the words a hundred percent more sexy.

  I stared at her open-mouthed for a moment before I swallowed hard. “KARA, seal the lab door,” I ordered in a breathless voice. “And the security window.”

  As KARA followed my command Parker looked at me coyly. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Ripping off your clothes,” I stated in an uneven voice.

  Please, don’t be dreaming. Please, please don’t be dreaming.

  “Oh really? That’s weird, I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Gods-only-knows-how-long later we were both still breathing heavy, lying naked together on the massively comfy couch I had bought for my lab. After they had moved most of the equipment to the main lab in the sub basement there had been this big hole in the layout of my lab and I had figured, couch, why the hell not? Now I was unbelievably glad I had put it in here. However, I was probably never going to be able to look at it the same way again.