Chaos Theory

by Susan Harris

  Nickolai’s hands gripped my bare shoulders, and the heat of his touch burned more than the scalding water. We stood like that for a flustering moment, and even though I wanted to keep his hands on me, I scolded myself and gently pried myself from his grasp.

  Blowing out a breath, Nickolai went to stand by the window, his back to me as I quickly dressed in shorts and a tee, telling Nickolai he could turn around if he wanted.

  He did so very slowly, deliberately, and suddenly I realized how exhausted I was. I just wanted to lie down and sleep the day away before I had to deal with Nattie and all the BS that came with her.

  Tomorrow, I’d have to sit across from the queen bitch herself and try to hold my tongue. For hours. I wasn’t sure it was possible, but I doubted Nickolai would let me skip it. I tried to appease myself with thoughts of food. And dessert… I should just think of dessert.

  Without saying a word, I walked toward Nickolai, ignoring the way his nostrils flared as I lifted the duvet and slipped under the covers. Snuggling into the bed, I sighed as Nickolai stormed into the shower.

  I heard him let loose a blue streak and wondered if he was having a cold shower. The thought made me giggle, shifting my body into a more relaxed pose as I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, avoiding the soldiers who tried to grab hold of me before I could reach my destination, trying to spare me the pain of what I was about to see. But I wouldn’t have believed what they’d told me unless I saw it for myself.

  Nicky called my name as I raced through the corridors, weaving and ducking until the smell of blood was so strong, I knew exactly where my parents were lying.

  I skidded to a halt, almost slipping in the pooled blood already staining the oak floor, my bare feet struggling to find grip. My eyes darted from left to right until I spied a shock of ice-blonde hair.

  Surging forward, I slipped, falling into a pool of blood and getting back to my feet even as I wanted to throw up. All that mattered was getting to my parents. As soon as I reached them, I dropped back to my knees, reaching out to touch my mother’s face and pull back her blood-soaked hair.

  Her once-vibrant eyes stared back at me, empty and void of life, and I screamed as I sank back on my haunches. My mother’s hand was outstretched, reaching for my father who lay mere inches from her, their hands almost touching.

  “Momma, Papa… please wake up. You gotta wake up. I promise I’ll be good if you just wake up!”

  They did not stir, the evidence of their demise leaking from so many wounds I was unable to tell which was my mother’s blood and which was my father’s. Crawling between their bodies, I lay my head in the small space where their fingers almost touched, placing myself in their outstretched hands.

  Tears streamed down my face as I curled into them, wishing for the death that had claimed my world from me, waiting for it to send me to them, but the blow never came.

  I was silent as vampires worked around me, cleaning up the mess and removing the dead to lie in repose before their funerals.

  The moment someone touched my parents, I lashed out with my mother’s sai, snarling like a feral thing. No one would separate me from them. No one.

  “Ry, come on,” Nickolai said softly. “They need to be taken away. We need to get them cleaned.”

  I hissed at Nickolai as he reached out to touch me, not caring that the queen had come in, tears matching my own streaming down her face. I ignored them all, trying desperately to get closer to my parents.

  Suddenly, I was airborne, hoisted into arms that bound me tightly as I snarled and struggled like a wildcat, scratching at living flesh as I called for my mother and father, screaming at the top of my lungs as if somehow my screams could wake the dead.

  Screams dragged me from slumber, and it took me more than a minute to realize the screams were coming from me. I thrashed in the bed, lashing out until strong hands wrapped around my wrists to stop me. My screams grew hoarse, and I hiccupped, my body wracked as I sobbed, the pain in my chest so tight I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t realize Jack and Atticus had come in at the sound of my screams until I started to mutter in Irish and heard Jack swear.

  Embarrassed I was having an emotional breakdown, I started rambling at how sorry I was, but nobody knew what the hell I was muttering about until I lifted my head and looked at Jack.

  “I’m sorry I scratched you,” I said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Jack stared in bewilderment until it dawned on him what I meant. Reaching up, he touched the scar on his face where I had once clawed at him for daring to take me from my slain parents—my dad’s best friend the only one with courage enough to do what was needed and pry me from that horrible scene.

  “It’s okay, kiddo. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

  I burst into tears again, burying my face in Nickolai’s chest as I screamed and beat my fists against him. I heard Nickolai order them from the room, and I was grateful they listened.

  Nickolai held me close, murmuring into my hair as I tried and failed to cry the images of my parents from my mind. So, instead of prying myself from his arms and locking myself in the bathroom, I gave in and let Nickolai hold me.

  He held me until my tears ran dry and I could no longer keep my eyes open. Terrified I’d be trapped in that nightmare again if I fell asleep, I tried to push Nickolai away, yet he refused to let me go.

  “Let me hold you, Ry. Just for tonight.”

  It would’ve been so easy to wrap my legs around his waist and, for a few, blissful minutes, forget the memories of monsters and villains, of dead parents and the shattered fairy-tales of a girl who would never have her happy ending. But in the morning, I wouldn’t be able to look him or myself in the eye.

  I let out a shuddering breath as exhaustion overwhelmed me and clung to Nickolai, letting him wrap his arms around me and then, as he pressed his lips to the top of my head, I succumbed to the darkness.

  15

  I woke with the sun still high in the sky, a sliver of Irish winter daylight slipping inside the curtains as I carefully opened my eyes, mindful I was tangled up with a very male vampire. For about ten minutes I was terrified to move, mortified at the mental breakdown they’d all seen earlier that day.

  My body was half on, half off Nickolai’s, my left leg curled around his right leg, my hands splayed across his chest, clutching at his T-shirt. His hand was weaved through strands of my hair. Thankfully, he was still fast asleep, and I spent an awfully long time wondering how I could untangle myself from him and avoid awkward questions.

  I smothered a laugh, remembering an old Friends episode where Ross told Chandler to hug and roll so he didn’t have to be uncomfortable sleeping with Janice. For some reason, all I could picture was Nickolai falling off the bed, and I was almost done in.

  Slowly, like I was backing away from a sleeping tiger, I gently pulled back my leg, letting go of his tee as I did. Then, once my hands were free, I worked slowly to untangle my hair form his fingers. His chest rumbled as I did, and I froze for just a second before I was up and out of the bed faster than a sprinter off the block.

  I grabbed a fistful of clothes and my music player, hoping I wouldn’t interrupt anything intimate between Jack and Atticus as I exited the bedroom. Jack was sprawled on his stomach, one hand on the ground, but Atticus was awake and making coffee.

  He flashed me a sad smile and I dropped my head, chewing on my bottom lip as I felt heat flushing my cheeks in embarrassment. I’d let them see I was broken. I’d let them see I struggled. I let them all see I wasn’t the frosty, cold-hearted bitch everyone thought me to be, and I despised myself for it.

  I needed to cut something. I needed to outrun my pain. I needed time to rein myself in.

  “You know there’s a gym in the basement, right? Windows are privacy-tinted, so you should be guarded from the sun. Her Majesty thought to send you some of your clothing, too, as you are to attend college after Samhain break.
”

  My mouth hung open as I wondered what monstrosity of clothes Katerina would have sent me. I imagined pink and frills. I almost vomited.

  To my surprise, the queen had packed some of my favorite articles of clothing. I pulled a pair of shorts and a vest top from the pile, yanking free a sports bra and motioning for Atticus to turn around because there wasn’t a hope in hell I was going back into that bedroom.

  Atticus chuckled softly, asking if I remembered he was gay, to which he got a middle finger and a scathing glare until he did indeed turn around.

  I stripped and dressed quickly, asking Atticus for directions before I made to leave and tensing when he called my name. I didn’t turn, couldn’t face those puppy dog eyes without crumbling again, the nightmare of last night still replaying in my mind.

  “Maybe it would help to talk to someone,” he suggested. “Maybe if you told someone what was going on in your head, then people would understand you a little better.”

  I snorted. “It’s not my job to help people understand me. I don’t care. Besides, my mind is so dark even Stephen King would be terrified by what’s in there.”

  Before Atticus could say another word, I popped in my headphones and fled the apartment. Crossing the foyer carefully, staying in the shadows so I wouldn’t get burned by the sun, I found the stairs to the gym and descended. A small door at the end of the stairs opened, and a handsome man stopped to hold the door open for me.

  I thanked him, ignoring his appreciative glance as I turned the volume up and pressed Shuffle on my music player. I grinned as Five’s “If Ya Getting Down” blared in my ears. Anyone who looked would think I was a broody rock chick, and I was—mostly—but there was no denying that nineties pop songs were awesome. I just wouldn’t broadcast that to everyone, or it might ruin my ice-queen image.

  The gym was small but thankfully empty, comprised of three treadmills, a weight bench, a row machine, and a salmon ladder. The walls were covered in posters with empowerment quotes and sweaty men in various poses. Rolling my eyes, I glanced at my feet and realized I’d forgotten shoes in my rush to get out of the apartment. Never mind; the pain of running on the treadmill with no shoes would help take my mind off my internal conflict—like bleeding my feet raw would somehow compensate for the rawness I felt inside.

  Backstreet Boys’ “Everybody” began to play as I fired up the treadmill, and I upped my pace to match the music. I wanted to let go and run as fast as I possibly could, but I didn’t know when my lone workout with be interrupted.

  My feet burned as I ran from my pain, my muscles screaming and begging me to stop. I ran for the entire forty-eight minutes of poptastic tunes on my player and then stopped, hopping off the treadmill and swearing as my feet fucking burned beneath me. I’d barely broken a sweat, so when I glanced over at the salmon bars, I said what the hell.

  The salmon bars were how vampires were judged during displays of strength—both of body and mind. This set wasn’t as high as the set at the home gym—it only went up a few feet, whereas our bars reached nearly twenty—but they’d do.

  Turning on another playlist, this time YONAKA’s “Waves” thrummed in my ear as I rubbed my hands together, bent at the knees, and leapt up to grab the first bar. Rocking my legs back and forth, I moved the bar to next rung and continued on and on until I reached the top. It didn’t take long, and then I swung my legs back until I released my hands and did a kinda front roll, landing on my aching feet with feline grace.

  Stupidly grinning to myself, I flinched when I heard a clapping sound and yanked my earbuds out. Some guy who looked vaguely familiar was staring open-mouthed at me, clapping, with a look of shock and awe on his face.

  Cursing myself for being so reckless and showing off, I gave him a brief smile before heading for the door.

  “Hey, you’re Nico’s friend, right?”

  I turned back to get a better look at the guy and remembered he was the one who’d asked me if I wanted to play goalie for Nickolai’s soccer team. I nodded and continued for the door, but he leaned against it, barring my way.

  “I’m Braydon. Braydon Smyth.”

  “Ryan.”

  Braydon grinned and pointed to the salmon bars. “That was some impressive ninja shit right there.”

  With a shrug I replied, “I guess I was a little obsessed with Arrow a few years ago.”

  Braydon grinned even wider. “A girl who knows her comic heroes? Be still my heart.”

  Was this guy seriously flirting with me? He looked like the kinda person who had someone locked in his basement. His smile was so sweet my teeth ached from looking at him.

  “Are you coming to the party tomorrow night?” he asked. “It should be fun.”

  I shook my head, my eyes cutting from him to the door and back again, as if the movement of my eyes would clue this guy in, I wanted out of both this gym and this conversation.

  “Or… Does Nico prefer to keep his woman all to himself? I get it.”

  “I am not Nickolai’s woman,” I all but snarled, careful to keep my temper in check despite wanting to shove this SOB out of the way.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night—save me a dance.”

  He opened the door for me, holding it open so I had to duck under his arm to exit. I was sure this pretty boy was used to girls fawning all over him, but I was surrounded by drop-dead gorgeous vampires daily and felt nothing. This dude had no chance.

  I took the stairs two at a time, only realizing my feet were bleeding as I glanced down and saw bloody footprints trailing behind me. Oh well.

  The sun had set as the doors to the elevator opened and I stepped into the hall, all three men awake, their noses flaring as they caught a whiff of my blood. They all started speaking at once, growling, snarling, and asking why I was bleeding.

  Lifting a hand to stop them, I tilted my head slightly. “In the wise words of Taylor Swift, ‘Y’all need to calm down.’ No one hurt me; I merely went running with no shoes on. Jeez. Anyone would swear I was a delicate flower who hadn’t taken down a rogue all by her feminine self last night.”

  I averted my gaze from Nickolai, who was looking as if he expected me to crack. Ignoring his eyes, I grabbed the first aid kit from under the counter, hoisted myself onto the kitchen counter, and proceeded to clean the cuts and blisters on the underside of my feet.

  I hissed at the sting of the disinfectant, contorting my foot to get a better look, when a hand cupped my foot.

  “Let me look at it.”

  “It’s grand.”

  “Ryan.”

  “My Liege?”

  His grip on my foot tightened as he leaned in. “Don’t,” he said in a low voice.

  I snatched back my foot, not daring to lift my gaze for fear he’d see I was not okay, that I was on a razor’s edge and couldn’t deal with him right now.

  “Don’t what?” I asked angrily. “Call you by the title you deserve? I mean, whatever, but I don’t think many vampires will be impressed with false modesty.”

  A strong hand gripped my chin and jerked my gaze sideways so quickly Jack called out in protest from the other room. Nickolai’s eyes were full of heat, of anger and pain. I released the growl that had been building in my chest, but he was still my liege and I was honor bound to serve him.

  “Take off your mask when you speak to me.”

  I gritted my teeth but managed to remain quiet as anger seethed inside me. I wanted to hurt him, wanted to wound him so irreparably he finally let go of his childhood friend and saw me for the shattered individual I’d become. He was fighting a losing battle, and I had to be the one to strike the final blow. I was so goddamn tired of games and crowns and politics. I was fed up of the pain and sorrow in my chest. I was pissed off at having everyone judge me. I was over being what everyone wanted me to be.

  Switching gears, I fluttered my eyelashes and tilted my chin slightly, exposing my neck to him. “It is my pleasure to serve you.”

  I ignored the shocked intake of breat
h from the peanut gallery as Nickolai dropped his hold on my chin as if I’d burned him. His face paled, his hands clenched by his sides as I slid off the counter and bowed low as bile snaked its way up my throat.

  Grabbing the duffel the queen had sent for me, I stalked past the two males in the living room so appalled by my words they seemed frozen in place, as if I’d done the unthinkable by reciting the phrase the Children of Eve used when they gave us lifeblood.

  I’d used the phrase to emphasize I considered myself less than him. And didn’t I? Didn’t we all? Nickolai and I could never be equals, and the sooner he realized that, the better.

  I showered quickly, freshening up for a dinner that would be awkward as hell after what just happened, but I was spoiling for a fight and Nattie would be a perfect target for my anger.

  Dressed in gray jeans, my Chucks, and a Buffy the Vampire Slayer tee, I pulled out the military jacket and slipped into it. It was little loose, but I needed space to keep my weapons hidden. Shucking off the jacket, I was slipping on my holster when I heard the murmur of voices outside and, unable to stop myself, moved closer to the door to listen.

  “You can’t just go all macho male vampire on her, Nickolai,” Jack said. “Ryan doesn’t take well to authority.”

  “She has no problem taking orders from either of you,” Nickolai growled back.

  Jack gave a soft chuckle. “You’ve met Ryan before, right? She might follow an order from me or Atticus, but it kills her to do it even when she knows it’s for the best. We earned that by not treating her as anything but the badass she is.”

  If I could have kissed Jack in that moment, I would have.

  “I just don’t know how to help her.”

  My heart sank at the sadness in his tone, but I swallowed hard and steeled my resolve.

  “Listen Nickolai, Ryan is Ryan. You have to accept that if you want to have any kind of relationship with her. She’s got such a good heart, does that firecracker of a girl, but she’s had her heart broken. A lot.”