“You’re one crazy bitch,” the second began, watching her as her back faced them due to her attention being focused on the sink. “And we like that. We want a piece of that, if you don’t mind us bein’ too blunt.”
“Yeah, well, I do,” Keirah retorted, keeping her eyes focused on what she was doing, making her tea. She didn’t want them to see just how afraid she was in that moment. She should have stayed in her room where she was safe.
Without warning, one of the men grabbed the back of Keirah’s shirt and pulled her hard toward him, causing her to lose her footing and fall flat on her back. She let out a grunt, feeling most of the air slip from her mouth so she had to part her lips to try and take in a breath.
The men wasted no time. Before Keirah could pull herself up, the first one crawled over her, pinning her to her spot. The other knelt down next to him. On the chance that Keirah actually managed to escape from the first henchman, it was highly doubtful she’d be able to get successfully past the second one.
She struggled, of course, trying to ignore the fact that one was currently unbuttoning one of her favorite shirts.
She had to think fast. What if she could do nothing and her virtue and dignity would be forced from her? Noir couldn’t come to her rescue, not if he was long gone by now. She needed to think.
Come on, Keirah. Think. Think. THINK.
Before she could do anything, however, a gun went off and she winced. She watched as a bullet exited the man on top of her, letting out a squeak of surprise and rolling quickly to the side before the first man could fall on her, dead. Another shot went out, and she heard another thud. The second man was gone now too.
Keirah forced herself to stand on wobbly legs, and she turned. When her eyes found Noir, she choked back a sob of relief before running toward him and throwing her arms around him. Immediately he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her tightly against him, not willing to admit that he was nearly as shaken up as she was. He allowed her to cry into his shirt. He said nothing, but after holstering his gun, he began to rub her back.
He looked at the two fallen bodies with absolute disgust. They should have known not to fuck with her.
Because fucking with her was just like fucking with him.
“Well …” he drawled before letting his voice trail off. It had been mere minutes since the shooting, but Noir couldn’t waste any more time. He had a very important meeting to get to. “It would seem-ah I can’t leave you here, hum … alone. What to do, what to do …” He released his grip on Keirah who had finished crying moments ago and was currently wiping the remnants of tears off of her face. He placed the fingertip of his index finger on the point of his chin as though he were deep in thought. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and gave his lover a lazy look. “I guess you’re coming, well, I guess you’re coming with me, princess.” He regarded her for a long moment, his lips curled down into a dissatisfied frown. “It is imperative that you shower, darling, and do change into something, well, something nice.” Noir reached out and gave Keirah a quick pat on her backside. “Now,” he said. “Off you, uh, go.”
Keirah didn’t need to be told twice. She sniffed before nodding a couple of times and proceeded to head to the stairs.
“And, dollface,” Noir said in a sing-song voice. “Make it quick.”
Keirah nodded, still not comfortable with the prospect of speaking just yet. Instead, she walked up the two flights of steps and did what he had asked her to.
In all honesty, Keirah was relieved to be tagging along with Noir. He was like her security blanket and shielded her from those that would no doubt cause her harm.
And she was doubly glad that he allowed her to shower. Though nothing had technically happened, she wanted to cleanse her body of any leftover residue that was occupying her flesh because of the two fallen men. As she walked, she could feel her legs tremble slightly, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of what could have happened to her or what had happened to the men. She knew Noir would never kill her in such an abrupt manner, but it was still shocking to see someone killed in front of her.
The shower was quick but thorough, and after brushing her damp hair, she slid on dark jeans and a green blouse that dipped in the front, stopping just before any cleavage could be revealed. She slid on a faux leather jacket and matching knee high boots, brushed her teeth, and headed back down the stairs to find Noir speaking to a few of his henchmen.
How many did he employ anyway?
“Ah,” Noir said, stopping in midsentence to call attention to Keirah’s presence. “There she is.”
Immediately, all three men looked away, as though they had been burned by an unknown substance. It would seem Noir had used the two bodies, still lying on the kitchen floor, as a warning to the others who even looked remotely interested in his things.
“Are you, hum … ready to go, my sweet?” he asked her as she made her way toward him.
Instead of answering, she merely nodded, wondering where it was, exactly, he was taking her to.
Well, no matter. She would find out soon enough.
14
Reese felt her mouth drop open. She knew it was completely unladylike, but she didn’t care at the moment. Daphne was here? Daphne, the woman from Jack Phillip’s New Year’s party just last night who hinted that something might have happened in a past life between her and Ollo? Daphne, the woman Ollo denied knowing at all?
She blinked her grey eyes, hoping the woman would disappear like some sort of mirage, but there she stood, looking as woodsy and statuesque as last night. She didn’t even seem to be perturbed by the cold.
Who was this woman?
Maybe her presence was just a dream and Reese just needed to wake up.
Without thinking as clearly as she should have been—she had just woken up, after all—she slapped herself across the face, causing Ollo to bolt upright from his slumber and Daphne to tinkle with laughter.
Reese wanted to punch Daphne’s perfection in the face.
“Daphne?” Ollo asked in a slurred, tired voice. Reese might have thought it was cute if he had said anything but her name. “What—”
“So you do know her!” Reese couldn’t hold back, her eyes freezing cold as they turned to Ollo.
Her outburst caused Daphne to laugh even harder, angering Reese even more.
“I—” Ollo blinked once, twice, hoping to wake himself up. “Can we talk about this later, darl?”
“He calls you that, too? Oh, how sweet.” Daphne’s smile was anything but.
“If I remember correctly, I never called you that,” Ollo said in a dark voice. It was a voice Reese had never heard before and never wanted to hear directed toward her. His face softened when he turned to look at Reese. “Darl, it isn’t what you think.”
“I don’t even know what to think, Ollo,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, confident. She knew she was turning red, however, and she hated that her emotions were such an open book. “You told me you didn’t know her, and yet …” She tried to find the words but couldn’t formulate everything she wanted to say. Especially with Daphne looking at them like they were a couple in a sitcom, something to be laughed at.
“You told her you do not know who I am, Ollo?” Daphne asked, her voice dripping honey. Reese detested the way she said his name. Daphne wasn’t supposed to say his name, not like that. “Tsk, tsk.”
“Stay out of it, Daphne,” Ollo growled like thunder, his blue-brown eyes flashing like lightning.
“I don’t think I will, Ollo,” she said, a smirk littering her sharp features. “This is far too amusing.”
“You know what,” Reese said as she stood up, “you don’t have to. I’ll go, since you guys obviously have some catching up to do.”
Once she was at the entirety of her five-foot-two stature, she curled her fingers into fists and attempted to exit the tent. Unfortunately for her, her foot got caught in the sleeping bag and she nearly tumbled into Daphne. She caught herself at the l
ast minute and pretended not to notice the hand Daphne offered her as she proceeded to unzip the tent. This time, she made absolutely certain to step over the thin material before ducking under the entrance and stepping out into the bitter night. She was so frustrated with her exit that it took her a moment to realize that she had no shoes and no jacket.
The cold pinched her face, turning her already-red face pink, and her feet almost immediately started going numb. She crossed her arms over her chest and proceeded to pace—a good deal away from the tent—in order to generate body heat. Why, oh why, didn’t she think to grab a jacket, or at the very least, shoes?
Because she was in shock, that’s why. Ollo had never lied to her before—and she had never expected him to lie to her in the first place. How could he do this to her? If there was one thing Reese hated, it was being made a fool. And the abrupt arrival of some woman who Ollo promised not to know—but clearly did with their obvious history splayed out in glares and smirks on their perfect faces—made her a fool.
Angry tears built up in her eyes and she tried to blink them away. A few managed to escape, however, furthering her frustration. She hated crying, but she seemed to be doing it a lot lately. With the addition of the cold, her nose was already running, and she reached up to wipe it with her sleeve.
Disgusting, she knew, but she didn’t particularly care at the moment. There was no way she was going back in the tent anytime soon, even if that meant she’d get frostbite.
“Hey.”
Reese closed her eyes, closed her heart. It was hard to ignore the feeling his voice had on her, but she tightened her muscles, and somehow, miraculously, her heart didn’t clench, she didn’t turn around to see him.
Somehow, over the past three months, Ollo had wormed his way into her heart. She couldn’t explain it; it boggled even her, but it was a fact she couldn’t deny. If she had to pinpoint just when it began, she would have to say it was the moment she found him with his head in the toilet, throwing up his body acid since there was nothing left in his system to throw up. He had been going through withdrawal, having decided to give up alcohol in order to focus his entire attention on training her to be the hero she was supposed to become. So she took care of him and spent the night to ensure he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit.
From then on, they were friends. She trusted him. And now?
She didn’t know. A part of her wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, that he hadn’t told her about Daphne for a reason; another part of her—the part that was currently in control of her emotions—was hurt, betrayed, upset and simultaneously wanted nothing to do with him just now and to demand an explanation. As indecisive as she felt, she knew he was one of the last people she wanted to see.
“Please, Ollo.” She couldn’t stop her voice from cracking, and she didn’t try. “I need some time alone. I can’t see you right now.”
“Darl, I—”
“Please do not call me that.” This time, she turned, her eyes like icicles ready to pierce skin and make him feel the way he had made her feel. “Do not ever call me that again.”
“Reese.” He gave her a flat look, his once-soft features hardening as he continued to look at her. She recognized this look; he was getting defensive. “You’re overreacting.”
“What?” It was then that she noticed a jacket in his hand—his jacket—but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t cold anymore.
“You are overreacting,” he said again, this time more slowly, as though Reese didn’t understand him the first time. “Daphne is part of my past.”
“Really?” Reese perked her brow, her fingers shaking. From the cold or the anger, she couldn’t be sure. “Because it seems to me, your past is infiltrating our present.”
Ollo opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. What could he say to that?
“You lied to me, Ollo.” Reese’s voice was suddenly small, tiny. Hurt.
Ollo looked as though he would soften once more. Maybe they could resolve this and prevent Daphne from being the reason for their first real fight. Maybe they could make up and go back to bed and keep each other safe and warm. But then he shielded himself once more.
“My past is none of your business,” Ollo said. “This is the exact reaction I expected from you. You’re already assuming things about me and that river nymph. You refuse to put your faith in me and the man that I was.”
“The man that you were was an alcoholic who barely even remembered your name,” Reese all but spat. “And now that you’re sober, somehow you’ve forgotten all about Daphne because you lied to me about her. You lied to me, Ollo. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“And why did I do it?” He raised his brow. Reese could detect no hint of compassion in his uniquely-colored eyes. “Why?”
“You’re justifying it?” She was screeching now, she knew, but she couldn’t get a hold of herself.
“Why?” he demanded again.
“I don’t know. To protect yourself because for whatever reason, you think I would judge you based on your history with her? You’re ashamed of her? You’re ashamed of yourself? I’m not a mind reader, Ollo.”
“To protect you, Reese.” She didn’t like the way he said her name. She never wanted to hear him say her name that way ever again. “To protect you.”
Reese furrowed her brow. “What does that even mean?” she asked, throwing her arms out in frustration. “You know she knows who I am, right? She didn’t even ask me, either. She just spoke as if she already knew. So I’m not sure what, exactly, you’re protecting me from, since my true identity is already in her database.”
That caused Ollo to pause and press his lips together. She knew he was thinking about what he was going to say next.
“Her knowledge of your importance explains her presence here,” he murmured more to himself than to her. His eyes flashed back to her, still hard but not angry. Not anymore. “I am ashamed, darl. Of myself and of her. We all have pasts, yes, but mine is filled with regret and mistakes. I started drinking to forget you, and through amber-colored glasses, I made even more mistakes, and she was one of them. My past is filled with disasters, and it all started when I first started drinking. The irony in this whole mess is that there’s no forgetting you. It’s impossible. And if I had been honest about that in the first place, I never would have started.” He paused, taking a step forward.
“Of course, I would never volunteer information about her to you,” he continued. “Especially after meeting you and knowing you and—” he cut himself off. “I have a dark past. And you’re so good and so … You shine, Reese. And if I could just bask in your light without worrying about casting a shadow on your inexplicable faith in me … I would lie again and again and again.”
“Ollo, I would never judge you based on the people you’ve dated or courted or whatever it was called back then,” Reese told him. She wasn’t angry anymore. How could she be? “Trust me. I’ve dated douchebags before. I just wish you’d be honest with me about who she is and what she was to you.”
“A ghost.” His voice dropped to an octave just above a whisper. “An irrelevant, transparent person who I used to help me forget everything. But it didn’t work because I still saw—” Again, he cut himself off. “Suffice it to say, it didn’t work. She fell in love with me, even when I explicitly told her we wouldn’t amount to anything, and hated me when I ended things. She blames you, darl.”
“Me?” She scrunched her nose so a wrinkle formed on the bridge of her upturned nose. “Why me?”
“She assumed —wrongly—that I was in love with Pythia,” he answered. “And that her death ruined me for everyone else.”
“You were never in love with Pythia?” She desperately wanted to muffle the hope that laced her voice, but failed.
Ollo paused, thinking again. “She was my Oracle,” he said. “I had strong feelings for her. I felt protecting her was my responsibility, and I failed at it. Was it love? No. Not yet, anyway. I didn’t want to waste my time with love
when I was going to live forever. And then she died. She died for me, for the First War. And I realized that even gods don’t live forever. Perhaps we are unable to die of old age, but we still die. Our deaths are never peaceful. I could have loved her. I wish I did, just to experience what real love felt like.”
“So she thinks I’m Pythia?” Reese asked. “That her soul is in my body and that your potential feelings for her have come alive again because you finally found me?”
Ollo nodded. “She’s wrong,” he said. “When Pythia died, her soul died with her. But her abilities transferred to a new host, dormant until they were needed. You are you, Reese. Not anybody else. You still need to hone your abilities. You still struggle with everyday issues. You are not my Oracle, darl. You are my friend, my partner. I cherish you more than you will ever realize. And that is why I lied to you. I don’t ever want you to look at me the way you did when Daphne woke us up again.”
“Then don’t lie to me, Ollo.” Reese took a step forward, and then another, until she was directly in front of him. “You don’t have to overcomplicate things. It’s strange how you can have faith in me as a savior of this upcoming war, and yet you don’t have that same faith in me as a friend.”
“You’re right.” His voice was warm again. Safe. “I’m sorry.”
“And I’m sorry for overreacting,” Reese said with a smile. She was just glad everything was back to normal, that they had survived their first fight.
“You were quite shrill,” Ollo pointed out. “Very banshee-esque.”
Reese playfully smacked his shoulder. Without warning, Ollo caught her hand and pulled her even closer. Before she could ask what he was doing, before she could think, Ollo draped his jacket around her shoulders. She knew his arm lingered for too long, but she didn’t care. How could she, when his touch steadied her heart, her mind.
But there was something missing, something that needed to be addressed.
And then she remembered.
Catalyst: Book 2 of The Dark Paradise Trilogy Page 12