There was no comparison. In fact, Jane felt bad that she even compared the two in the first place. Daryl was in a class all his own.
She smiled, just thinking about it. She couldn’t believe they had done it, and that it felt like … She shook her head. She never would have understood what it felt like before this. She could read books and magazines on the subjects, watch movies and televisions shows about it, but no one ever really knew what it felt like until they did. Until they experienced it for themselves. And she wanted everyone to do so. She thought everyone on earth deserved at least one night of pleasure with their beloved. Maybe if that were to happen, people would be happier, nicer, warmer.
Was it wrong of her to want to do it again? Did that make her selfish or sex-crazed? She knew that society dictated her sex should be demure and sexless. But, Jane wanted Daryl again, and she wanted him badly.
“Your thoughts are so goddamn noisy,” Daryl mumbled, not bothering to crack an eye open. “What could you possibly be thinking about at this ungodly hour?”
Jane felt herself blush like a school child. She flipped on of bed so she straddled his waist and leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“Honestly?” she asked, her voice shy and quiet and completely unlike her.
“Yes, honestly.” He sounded annoyed, but in a good-natured sort of way.
“I want to do it again.”
She held her breath, waiting for a response. It felt like forever before Daryl did so. One eye cracked open and a small grin ghosted over his face.
“Why didn’t you say so?” he asked. “I can definitely help you with that.”
Jane was sore, but in the best way. She still hadn’t fully slept yet, her mind too light to fall into a deep slumber. Her eyes were closed, her thoughts filled with brightness. She probably wouldn’t be able to walk right, but maybe a nice, warm bath would be able to fix all that. Maybe Daryl would feel compelled to join.
“Are you hurt?”
The lazy, Southern drawl came from beside her, and she smiled before she opened her eyes.
“A little,” she replied honestly. “But it was worth it.”
His eyes opened to look at her, and his fingers swept hair away from her face. The way the sun hit the strands, they reminded her of little golden sprites dancing in the light.
“You tire me out, woman,” he told her, and even now, he sounded slightly out of breath. “I am much older than you are, you know.”
Jane’s smile widened. “It’s like having chocolate for the first time,” she explained. “One helping is never enough.”
He chuckled, and Jane opened her eyes. She had a burst of energy, and before she could think to stop herself, she twisted so she was on his lap, looking down at him with sparkles in her eyes. She was still completely nude, but wasn’t ashamed of her body. She wasn’t embarrassed or shy. He had seen her completely naked in moments at her most vulnerable. It didn’t make sense for her to feel the need to cover herself up when they already shared so much.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her, his hands gripping her waist, their natural place on her body. “Did you know that?”
Jane felt herself grin. She couldn’t stop from smiling even if she tried.
“You’re mine,” he added, his eyes jumping up at her. “Did you know that?”
“Am I?”
“Oh, yes. I’m serious, Jane. I do not give my heart easily. I trust you with it implicitly. Do not let me down and break it. My heart will not break twice.” Jane nodded her head. “I’m not saying I own you or that you belong to me. However, I will be protective of you. I will love you and you alone. I want to be with no one else but you. And I hope you feel the same way.”
“I do,” she told him. She shifted her weight. “Now that we have this new sense of trust between us, may I ask you something?”
Daryl gave her a smirk, clearly interested in what she had to say. “You may ask me anything,” he said.
“Okay.” A pause. “What is your favorite tattoo?”
They spent the rest of the morning lounging around, discussing mental abilities to her parents’ divorce, to the stories behind his tattoos and the fate of AckPec. Jane had no idea why she ever thought Daryl was intimidating. He was just a down to earth, though an extremely particular member of the male species, and surprising to her, she found she could speak with him easier than she thought.
“You keep tracing my arrow,” Daryl noticed out loud. His eyes sparkled as they looked up at her. She loved sitting in his lap. Either that, or she loved when he was on top of her with her legs wrapped around his waist. “Do you like it?”
Jane nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. It was a simple black tattoo just above his heart in the shape of an arrow, similar to the arrow that represented the Sagittarius zodiac. This happened to be Jane’s zodiac, which was probably what drew her to it in the first place.
“Why did you get it?” she asked him, tearing her eyes away from the tattoo so she could look at him.
“The arrow is just above my heart,” he said, “to remind me that whatever direction I decide to take in my life, it is important for me to follow my heart. My heart will take me in the appropriate direction. And it did.”
Jane felt herself blush.
“I love it when your face turns that color,” he told her. “It makes you glow. Plus, I love knowing I have the ability to make you blush.”
“So,” she said, deciding it was safest to change the subject, “did they hurt?” He gave her a questioning look and she grinned. “Your tattoos. When you got them. You have some in places that look … painful.”
“Of course they hurt,” he said with a smile, “but we have no choice. We must get them.”
Jane furrowed her brow. “Why would you have to get tattoos?” She paused, sorting through her thoughts. “Oh my God, were you Russian Mafia? Is there Russian Mafia in Atlanta?”
“Just because we moved to Atlanta does not mean we never returned to Russia,” Daryl explained. “We had family in the mafia. I was never officially part of it, but I was a driver for one of my nephews—the man in charge. Of course, in order to attain a job as his driver, I needed to be branded, so to speak. And, to be completely honest, I agree with many facets of the mafia: the strong sense of family, loyalty, doing what you have to do to protect the ones you love.” He turned his head and kissed her wrist. “I wore these tattoos like badges of honor.”
“Do you still have ties to them?” Jane asked, tilting her head to the side.
“To a degree, yes.” He paused. “Why? Do you worry about it?”
Jane shrugged. “Should I be?” she asked.
“I think we have graver concerns than the Russian Mafia,” he told her. “If it’s any consolation, your arrow was not done during my time with them.”
“My arrow?” she asked with a perked brow and a coy smile.
“Yes, your arrow,” he told her. “Since you seem to like it so much.”
“I also really like this one,” she told him, fluttering her fingers on his forearm. The cross. “Can I have this one, too?”
“You have every last piece of me in the palm of your hand, Jane,” he told her, his tone serious.
“I won’t let you down.” She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to say it, but she did. It was important that she took his love seriously, that she wouldn’t take it for granted. His eyes flickered over to her, and she made sure she kept them locked with her own. “I don’t know if you know this, Daryl, but I’ll love you more than you’ll know. More than you’ll allow yourself to believe. I’m not sure what happened in your past and, quite frankly, I don’t care. I care about being your now and your future. This thing between us …” She stopped, not sure how to put into words what she meant. “I’m just glad we’re together. I’m glad I get to see you like this. I’m glad I get to be with you like this.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were short, simple, and didn’t make any sense to Jane.
“For what?” she ask
ed. She tilted her head so her blonde hair didn’t block him from view.
“After you left my flat that night, after we kissed for the first time, I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing you away,” he told her. “And then you were attacked. Dead. You were dead. And by some miracle, Ms. Rivera saved you. I’ll be indebted to her for the rest of my life. She brought you back to me. Still, I kept my distance. And then, you were taken from me again.” He paused, and pain burned his black eyes; they shined like a candle in darkness. “I thought you were dead, Jane. And in that moment, I hated myself. Because I told myself I was pushing you away because it was the right thing to do when, in reality, I was pushing you away because I was afraid. I was afraid to let down my walls to allow you in. I was afraid to love you because you are young and intelligent and beautiful and you have your whole life laid out in front of you. I didn’t want to inhibit you from living, and I didn’t want to be around you when you got requests for dates—because you will. I know it. I was being selfish. For that, I’m sorry.”
Jane took her thumb and traced his bottom lip.
“I wasted so much time,” he murmured. “We could have been together. None of this would have happened …”
Jane shushed him gently. “What matters is now,” she repeated. “Everything happens for a reason. Timing is always perfect. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.” She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom, a small grin on her face. “So. Ready for round three?”
Daryl snatched it from her. “I’m not as young as I look,” he said. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”
“Lucky you,” Jane teased.
35
In quiet moments like these, Sophie tried to contemplate about all the little choices she had made that got her to where she was in this exact moment. What if she and Will had spent the night together like they should have? What if he had woken up and stopped her from leaving? What if she was the bigger person and told him she understood his wariness over the whole Michael situation? What if he just trusted her actions, even if he didn’t agree with them?
She shook her head. These thoughts weren’t helping the current situation she was in. She needed to focus and figure out how she was going to get out of this one. Despite the fact that she was much stronger than all these men combined, their grip on her was impressive. They wouldn’t give her an inch she could exploit. They wouldn’t let her budge. She was trapped in a hotel room in the Grand Hotel—the very hotel he had thrown his infamous gala—surrounded by sixteen men all armed and holding onto her for dear life, and one very armed, very insistent general.
Things didn’t look good.
“I see you still don’t understand,” Arbuckle said after Sophie shook her head. “That’s okay. Many people, especially the young ones, don’t understand. You think you know how the world works. You think you’re an expert, and because of that, you refuse to listen to someone else’s opinion if it challenges yours just a little bit.”
“That’s bullshit,” Sophie said. “I refuse to listen to your opinion because it’s fucking insane.”
“You’re a lady,” Arbuckle said, chiding her in a way she imagined a grandfather might. “Can we watch the language, please?”
“Just because I have a vagina does not inhibit me from saying whatever swear words I like,” Sophie said. Inwardly, she winced. That was crass even for her. She just hated that people could tell her what to do because she was a woman. And especially coming from a man, that made her want to rebel against it all the more even if she wasn’t usually like that.
Arbuckle made a face—a cross between disappointment, annoyance, and distaste—and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m being polite,” he pointed out. “The least you can do is make the same effort.”
“You think you’re being polite?” Sophie asked in disbelief. “Honestly? You think using my ex to lure me here, kidnap me and hold me against my will, and then try and get me to give up my best friend’s location is being polite? Oh, and to top it all off, you’re threatening to kill my boyfriend and everyone else I might love.” Now it was her turn to give him a look, this one simply confusion. “You have to tell me what your definition of polite is because it certainly doesn’t match up to my definition.”
“Yes, well, if I asked you first, I assume you would have said no.”
“You would have assumed right.”
“Can I ask you a question, Ms. Harper?” Arbuckle asked, tilting his head to the side with his hands behind his back. “Do you believe the general public has a right to know what the government is doing?” Sophie opened her mouth to respond, but Arbuckle snapped his hand up in order to stop her. “Before you respond, please give the question a chance. Do you believe the general public has a right to know what their government is doing?”
Sophie’s body was still tensed, but she paused. What game was he playing at? What point was he trying to prove? She shifted her weight, trying to figure out whether she should answer or not. Finally, she replied, “I don’t know.”
“That’s a good answer, and one most of your peers would not say,” Arbuckle said, and he seemed genuinely pleased at her response. “People will either say, absolutely, the public has a right to know everything their government is doing. After all, our tax dollars pay their salary, so, in essence, they work for us. The other half would say something like, no, there is no way the general public can handle the knowledge of what the government does. Ignorance is bliss. We’ve elected these people to do what needs to be done without involving us. You, on the other hand, aren’t sure.”
Sophie didn’t know how to respond so she chose to remain silent.
“The reason this is a good thing, Miss Harper, is that the I don’t knows will translate into open minds I can mold and shape. You are one of those minds.”
“Do you think the general public should know what a terrible person you are and learn of the horrible acts you’re committing in the military’s name?” Sophie asked, turning the question around.
“That’s a fair question,” he allowed. “I’ve thought about this a lot recently. To be honest, I find that the public has a right to know as much as they can handle. Give them too much, and they don’t know what to do with it, so they react with hysteria. Give them too little, and they start to question us. And we can’t have the public questioning their government. We need their trust. We need their faith. Suspicions only lead to questions, and questions are never good for anybody.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” Sophie asked, genuinely puzzled. “What does that have to do with peculiars?”
“Everything, my dear,” he told her, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, though he didn’t make her feel stupid. “I’ve already announced your existence to the world. They may not believe me now, but once we conduct our research and record our proof, we will release more and more, develop faith and trust, and develop a strong relationship with the public.”
“So …?” Sophie still didn’t understand.
“So?” Arbuckle blinked once. “So? If the military already has the public’s trust, they won’t question the experiments we plan to run on peculiars. They will see you whatever way we tell them to. We can control their perception of you.”
“I really don’t get why you even want us,” Sophie said. “We’re not doing anything to you. We’re not hurting you or—”
“What makes you say that?” Arbuckle asked, interrupting her. “You think all peculiars are perfect?”
“Of course not,” Sophie said. “That would be naïve.”
“I want you because you and your kind would be the perfect weapons to employ for combat,” Arbuckle explained. It was clear he genuinely believed in what he was speaking of because his eyes sparkled with determination. “I won’t have to send these innocent young eighteen year olds out for their last day on earth, fighting a war this country doesn’t care about anymore. I could guarantee winning said war with you, with Ms. Cabot, wit
h shifters. You would need training, of course, but you’d be practically invincible. You’d have a better chance out there than the recruits, that’s for damn sure. I wouldn’t have to send home any We regret to inform you letters.
“I would research you. I would find out the scientific reasons why peculiars exist. I would find out how to breed more of a specific kind of peculiar. This knowledge will be key to changing the world. Do you understand?”
“Why do you get to decide that?” Sophie asked. “You’re panpi.”
“I decide because I can,” Arbuckle said.
Before anyone could respond, there was a knock on the door.
“Room service,” a voice announced. “Compliments of the hotel.”
Arbuckle looked confused. Genuinely confused. Sophie immediately tensed. The general was never confused. Something told her this wasn’t room service, and she was interested to see how Arbuckle would handle it.
The general looked to one of his men holding onto Sophie. He nodded to him, indicating he wanted the guy to check the door. The minute he opened the door, a voice yelled, “Sophie, get down!” and gunfire went off.
It was Michael. Somehow, Michael was here.
Without hesitating, Sophie dropped to the floor, taking a few of the men with her. The majority of them, Arbuckle included, were more focused on protecting themselves than her at the moment. As such, Sophie was able to weasel out of their grip without them paying much attention as they scrambled to get ahold of their guns.
Sophie managed to crawl under the bed. The gunfire did not cease. There was no way Michael would be able to take on the men and Arbuckle by himself. He might be able to shoot a couple of them, but not all of them. These men were trained for this sort of thing. Michael … Well, she didn’t know Michael well enough to know his skill with a firearm. But if her gut feeling was right, that he wasn’t an inherently violent person, he would need help. Or he would die.
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