Jane moaned. “I’m sorry,” she said and took a tentative sip of tea. She just wanted the pain to go away. When she finished, she handed Depogare the cup and hung her head, waiting impatiently for it to work.
“You are too impatient for your own good,” he said, placing the tea on the nearby nightstand before turning back to her. He reached out, sweeping her sheet of wavy blonde hair aside so he could cup her cheek in her hand. “What is troubling you, Miss Cabot?”
Jane lifted her eyes until they were in his. The question that came out of her mouth, however, hadn’t been conscious in her mind until now. “What does lubimaya mean?” she asked.
He looked confused. “What?” he asked, leaning toward her as though he couldn’t quite hear her.
“Lubimaya.” She tilted her head to the side. “Am I pronouncing it right?”
“Where did you hear that word?” he asked, ignoring her last question.
“From you.” Her face flushed and her eyes looked away. “You call me that in a dream.” She forced her eyes back into his. “What does it mean?”
“It means beloved,” he told her.
“Oh.” She pulled back from him, looking at the covers that currently encased her body. They were dark blue with the design of white diamonds scattered among the material, outlined in black. She not only admitted that she dreamed about him, but that they must have had some kind of intimate relationship in said dream. “I … I can’t do this anymore.”
Depogare knit his brow together. Jane noticed his right hand twitch, but he didn’t reach for her again. She was both grateful and regretful about it. “I don’t understand what you mean,” he said.
“This whole thing,” she said, using her arm to indicate the space between the two. “Quis, being a quis, you training me, fainting, drinking tea that I don’t even like.”
“Calm down, Jane,” he instructed, placing both hands on her face and forcing her to look at him. “You are going to work yourself up again.”
“This is all your fault,” she continued, her voice decidedly softer, but still firm nonetheless. Surprising both of them, she wrapped her arms around his neck and threw herself into his lap. He reacted quickly, placing his arms around her back, making her feel safe, secure, protected. He let her cry into what was supposed to be the suit he would wear today. He didn’t push her away, didn’t yell at her for ruining his expensive clothes. She was glad for that; if he had, he would have broken her.
Jane wasn’t this girl. She didn’t cry in front of people and she certainly didn’t faint. She didn’t wake up in a man’s bed and she didn’t throw herself into his lap. She definitely didn’t do these things in front of her professor. But at the moment, she didn’t care. She couldn’t be strong anymore. She couldn’t hold back anymore. She needed release and the only person she trusted with it was this man.
Her grip on his silk shirt loosened, the tears began to fall less and less. She closed her eyes, placing her head on his sturdy shoulder and inhaling deeply. Jane was suddenly immersed in cinnamon and she felt herself relax. All she wanted to do was sleep right here with his arms wrapped securely around her, protecting her from any more harm. She could feel one hand rub her back up and down while the other rested on her hip, locking her in place. It was like she was melting into him. This was wrong, so incredibly wrong, but God, did it feel so right. She never wanted to leave.
Miraculously, he allowed her to cry, allowed her to remain in his lap, ruin his suit. In fact, he was comforting her, holding her up.
“It’s you,” she croaked, her throat raw from the tears. “It’s always you.”
“Me?” She could feel his voice throughout his chest, against her own.
Picking her head up, she looked at him for a long moment, saying nothing until, “You. I don’t know why, but it’s you. I calm down when you touch me. It’s like everything is right in this world and I don’t have to worry about anything anymore.” She sighed, breath shaky. “It’s like a part of me that I’m not aware of is telling me that I need you and that scares me more than anything.”
“Why does that scare you?” he whispered in a husky voice, using his long index finger to curl around her chin and tilt her head up. The tip of her nose brushed his lips and she shivered, wanting nothing more than to kiss them with her own.
“It’s like you said,” she said. “You’re not always going to be there. I can’t depend on anyone but myself.”
His hands dropped to her neck, using both thumbs to keep her looking up. “I will be here for you for as long as you need me,” he promised, tilting his head toward her so their noses—his so big, hers so small—brushed.
“And what if that’s always?” she asked in a meek voice.
He didn’t even hesitate. “Then it is a good thing that peculiars live for an indeterminate amount of time, hmm?” he asked.
His words caused her insides to turn to liquid. It was one of the least romantic predicaments she had been in. She looked horrible, with her red nose and puffy cheeks. Stray strands of golden hair were stained to various parts of her face, thanks to her dry tears, and she was certain she had morning breath and the chamomile tea didn’t help. And yet, his words were exactly what she wanted to hear.
Jane was almost certain he would kiss her when his phone rang. Before he could protest, she crawled out of his lap and back into the bed. The spell had been broken, and as she listened to him talk to Dianna since Will had apparently already left for his Change, she knew she couldn’t believe him. His words, while sweet, were a lie. He was Depogare, cold as the water that consumed the Titanic, and she was his emotional Ignis student.
She couldn’t continue to love him. She refused to be that girl, the girl who loved someone who could never love her back.
When Elle reminded her they were going to Ultra that night, Jane practically jumped in celebration. She needed a night to try to forget him, if only temporarily.
So she allowed Cillian to lead her to his place, prepared to tell him no should he try anything with her. Maybe making out with someone she could have but would never love would help her in her endeavor.
As Cillian led her through the doorway of his small apartment, the scent of cinnamon still tickled her nose.
35
“Excuse me, miss.”
Sophie glanced to her left where a man who looked only a few years older than Will was staring at her with the softest periwinkle blue eyes she had ever seen. For a moment, she took him in. She didn’t even care that he so obviously noticed her do it too. In fact, he seemed to have no problem letting her do that and was probably studying her as well. He was taller than Will by about three or four inches, with short auburn hair combed to the side. He had an oval-shaped face with a strong jaw and a piercing gaze. His straight white teeth and dimples in both cheeks made him look younger than he probably was. He was long and lean, but Sophie felt, at least judging by the way he stared at her, he was much more powerful than he looked. And the craziest part about him was that she wasn’t afraid or nervous around him. She could look him in the eyes without flinching, her stomach wasn’t being bombarded by incessant butterflies. In all honesty, she thought they shared something, a kinship, because she felt immediately drawn to him, and there was absolutely no need to question it.
“Yeah?” she asked. Her voice was level and almost firm, her eyes were locked onto his.
“You look sad,” he told her. She noticed that he had some kind of European accent, but couldn’t narrow down the country of origin. “Would you like to dance?”
Sophie wanted to ask him if someone his age knew how to dance to this kind of music but she bit back the retort. The more she looked at him, the more she realized he probably knew more about things Sophie couldn’t even imagine. He was dangerous and yet, at the same time, she had this feeling that he would never hurt her, that he would never let harm come to her. He wasn’t anything like Will. He wasn’t anything like Jason. He was his own classification and she didn’t even know his name.<
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“I’d love to,” she finally replied.
When she placed her hands in his, something—probably that indescribably familiarity—ran through her like a shock and knew that it was all his fault. Did he feel it too? His eyes gave nothing away. Still, though, Sophie allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. It was full, crowded, but somehow she felt as though they were the only two people in the room.
Once they reached a vacant space for them, he kept her in front of him so their eyes were attached once more. They didn’t speak, but both seemed to understand their current situation. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him so their bodies were centimeters apart. Sophie pushed her brows up; normally people danced back-to-chest, not chest-to-chest. She wasn’t sure what he had planned, but she knew without a doubt that she’d let him do nearly anything to her. His grip on her hips was firm, maybe a bit possessive, like he wouldn’t let her fall.
He started to sway, controlling her movement with only a little amount of pressure. Any self-doubt she had about him not being able to move vanished in that instant. He was fluid and graceful and the cocky look on his face showed that he knew he was a skilled dancer. He controlled her hips with his hands, and instinctively, Sophie reached up and locked her hands around his neck, bringing their bodies even closer together. She couldn’t hear the music, couldn’t see the other people. All she could see was blue, all she could feel were his hands on her hips, their torsos barely grazing.
He surprised her by leaning toward her. Her heart sped up as she thought that perhaps he was going to kiss her, and in that moment, she realized that she wanted it to happen. She wanted to see if his lips were as soft and as powerful as his hands were.
Instead, he turned his face at the last moment so his nose brushed her cheek and his lips practically grazed her ear. “I’m surprised that you would be left all by yourself,” he murmured in a low voice.
Her body’s reaction was instantaneous; every hair on her body sprung up, pinching her skin at the sound of his voice, at the feeling of his warm breath on her bare skin. He was German, she decided. Sophie had to swallow before she could respond.
“And why do you say that?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to sound flirtatious, but it was the only thing she could think to say.
His lips curled up into a smile as he picked his eyes up from her lips so he could look in her eyes. “You are quite rare,” he explained, not once missing a step. “Beautiful and so petite. I find myself wanting to do nothing more than to protect you. But you do not need my protection, do you? Because while you appear to be nothing more than a mere school girl, you are more than that. So much more than that.”
Sophie felt herself stiffen, but he wouldn’t allow her to stop dancing. A small, traitorous part of her didn’t want to either.
“Who are you?” she forced out.
His grip on her tightened and his smile deepened. “You’re asking the wrong question,” he said in that hypnotizing, hollow voice. “What are you would be more appropriate.” He suddenly stopped dancing but continued to hold onto her, placing his lips right back near her ear. “I know what you are.”
The words echoed through Sophie, each one matching the pounding beat of her heart that seemed to shake through her entire body. They were the very words Will told her when they first met, but somehow, this stranger made them seem so … ominous. Her entire body tensed and she wasn’t sure whether she would start to shake or stay completely still. She didn’t know if he was threatening her or if he was a peculiar who was fascinated by encountering a physical. How could he possibly know she was a peculiar, though? It wasn’t like she wore a sign around her neck that stated as much, and while she definitely had to be careful, especially when she danced with someone and they were touching, she hadn’t actually showed off her uncommon strength. She’d be surprised that a panpi knew not only of peculiars, but physicals as well.
Sophie allowed herself to see this man again, not merely look through him. He was dressed nicely in dark jeans and a pressed white collared long sleeve shirt that left the top two buttons undone, revealing the beginning of his collarbone. He had a subtle strength; his touch was soft but she could feel the power in his hands. In fact, the more Sophie took him in, the more she realized that everything about him was subtle. A woman probably wouldn’t do a double-take while passing him on the street, but the next time she saw him or noticed a particular part of him, she’d crash into the realization of how good looking he really was. His style was simple, but managed to hide his flaws—if he had any—while simultaneously showing off whatever it was he wanted to reveal.
Will was right. She was in danger. But she was also right in that she had physical strength this man couldn’t even comprehend. She could take care of herself.
Sophie narrowed her eyes at him, trying to mask her fear with fury. The two had stopped dancing now. She was fully clothed, and yet somehow she could feel both his hands searing through her clothing. She still felt as though they were the only two people in this room, still felt that they shared something, but she had no idea what that was. Their gazes were burning with independent intensity and Sophie couldn’t look away. The most disturbing thing about the whole night, however, was the fact that she still felt as though he wouldn’t hurt her, that perhaps she wasn’t quite safe with him but no harm would come to her person.
“What are you, then?” she forced herself to ask. If he thought he knew about her, it was only fair for him to tell her about himself.
“Let’s go somewhere where we can talk in private,” he said, his lips still close to her ear so he wouldn’t have to shout over the music.
Sophie had seen those investigative shows, and while she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her, she wasn’t about to trust him alone. “I’d prefer if we stay right here,” she said, forcing her voice to sound as firm as she could make it. She knew Will was the last person to go to a club, but at that moment, she wished he was here to guide her, to tell her what she should do.
“Whatever you prefer,” he said, his soft blue eyes never leaving hers. “My name Michael Rochester.”
What did his name have to do with anything? “If you know what I am then you have to know what I can do,” she said. “I suggest you release me and keep this meeting to yourself unless you want to get hurt.”
Sophie noticed he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his eyes seemed fixated on something in the crowd. He nodded once, his face a blank sheet of paper, before his eyes shifted back to her. He didn’t laugh at her threat or tell her that such a thing was impossible.
“You haven’t heard of me?” He sounded surprised. “Knowing what you are, I would assume that Curtis would have at least told you my name.”
She furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of what he was and wasn’t saying. “What do you mean?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“We are the same, Sophie, you and I,” he said. It was the first time he said her name—a name she hadn’t told him—and she felt her body respond by shivering. “We are both physicals. Surely you can feel it as I touch you. Surely you recognize that we’re the same.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open, completely at a loss. He was a physical? No wonder he felt familiar. It was like Will said; she just knew. Maybe that was why she felt that he would never hurt her. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him about living in this world as a physical, especially when it came to the opposite sex. Could he maintain a stable relationship with a panpi or was it be easier with a peculiar? Could he have sex without giving his partner a heart attack?
There was more to the story than what Michael was sharing with her. She couldn’t shake this sense of danger she felt around him, them.
“What do you want with me?” she whispered as he dropped his hand back to her hip, pulling her closer to him.
“You, of course,” he said. “You realize that you and I are the only two physicals currently alive known to peculiars in the history of the world? Once united, we’d
be the most powerful pair in history. Not only could we overcome peculiars, but panpi as well. If and when we mate, our children will have a good chance at being physicals, and we could learn so much about what we are. We’d be invincible, don’t you see?”
“How do you even know about me?” she asked, trying to sort through everything he had just said. Was he really trying to be some kind of Bond villain and take over the world?
“When Curtis first heard of you, so did I,” he told her, taking a step forward. “I have eyes and ears everywhere. I almost had you in Tahoe too, but you knocked out my man.”
What was he talking about? She hadn’t knocked out anyone while she had been in Tahoe. The only person she touched had been the man—
And then she saw him. The man that had asked Brielle to dance was now standing next to Michael. She had no idea how she hadn’t seen it before.
“I killed you,” she said, stuttering. “I snapped your neck.”
“Sophie, meet Justin,” Michael said, clapping a hand on the boy’s back. For the first time since the start of the dance, he completely released his hold on her. “One of the strongest mentals you’ve ever met. You didn’t actually snap his neck, you see, because he can move things with his mind. As you attempted to snap his neck, he shifted and you actually snapped a bone in his shoulder, having no effect on him whatsoever.”
“But I saw him.” She turned to Justin. “I saw you. You weren’t breathing.”
“Oh Sophie, so young, so naïve.” The familiar murmur coming from Michael’s mouth caused her entire insides to turn to goo and she hated herself for it. “Justin can hold his breath for quite a while. All my associates can. They need to be appropriately trained if they are to work for me. Is there anything else you would like to know before you come with us?”
The Stranger Trilogy Box Set Page 23