Breaking Through

by King, D. Nichole

  I exhale my fear, my insecurity, and steady myself. “You warn the crew to take precautions, and we’ll begin.”

  The half-grin that appears on Riley’s face is a mixture of sexiness and pride. “We start tomorrow.”

  “What time?”

  His grin spreads as his mouth lowers over mine. He sucks on my lower lip for a second before he answers. “They’re your emotions, Nautia. They’re not tied to a specific time, so be ready at all times.”

  He kisses me again, slow and passionate, raising my desire. Warmth reaches down my body to my core, grabbing ahold of me and melting me.

  Oh. My. God.

  I want.

  I want.

  I want him so bad.

  The ship sways to the left. The right. And—

  Riley releases me. USS Triton stills. I reach for him, but he backs up. A mischievous glint in his eye leaves my insides in a puddle of unfulfilled longing.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, craving more.

  His gaze sweeps down my body and back up, making me squeeze my thighs together at what he’s doing to me. On freaking purpose.

  “To make preparations,” he says.

  “For what?”

  Riley chuckles. “The start of your emotional training.”

  “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” I say, because I’m seriously dying right now.

  “Maybe.” He takes my wrists and holds them at my sides. Presses up against me and teases my lips with the tip of his tongue. “But I promise I’ll bring you back to life.”

  “Cara?” I choke out. I struggle against the guards securing my arms, but they only hold on tighter.

  My first thought is that Yun Ji-jin captured her and is holding her hostage in his Wonsan Palace. This must be his office, because above the massive ivory desk hangs an even larger oil painting of him. Chin up and arrogant, he peers down on us like we’re nothing but ants.

  My second thought is that if Cara is held against her will, why is she sitting comfortably in his chair? With a cup of tea?

  She leans forward, reminding me of all of the times I sat in her office at Brighton. Flames dance in her eyes, but die out when she motions for the guards to release me. They obey.

  “Nautia, please. Have a seat,” she offers.

  One of the guards shoves me forward. I half-trip over the Oriental rug that’s identical to the one in Brighton’s foyer. I do as she asks, glancing over my shoulders to see that the guards have stationed themselves on either side of the elaborate double doors. I swing around, feeling less comfortable with Cara in front of me.

  “Tea?” she asks, holding up a small pitcher from the silver tray.

  I shake my head.

  Cara smiles, pours the drink, and sets it in front of me anyway. “Sugar?”

  I don’t answer as she drops a sugar cube into the cup. She stirs it a few times and places the spoon back onto the silver tray. Then she sits and takes a sip from her own teacup.

  “Ah. Nothing like local tea,” she says, breathing in the steam. “Absolutely delicious.”

  I watch as she takes another sip like she has all the time in the world. I want to yell at her. Tell her the undercover mission has been compromised. Scream that the rest of the Brighton students on board the ship in the Sea of Japan are in danger.

  But something glues to me to the seat and seals my lips closed.

  Cara sighs as she sets her teacup onto the desk. “Sources tell me you flooded the weapons facility, Nautia. Is this true?”

  Cara says it sweetly, but there are flames igniting in her eyes again. She stares at me, waiting for an answer I won’t give. Perfectly sculpted black brows arch high on her forehead as she considers me. Blood red nails roll against the desk, pattering out a rhythmic five tap beat. It’s the only sound in the room.

  What seems like hours tick by before Cara pounds her fists against the marble, making me jump. Sparks fly from beneath the skin.

  “You flooded the goddamn weapons facility!” she shouts. “Do you know how long it has taken to set up that warehouse so that it could withstand the testing needed to ensure a working product? How long it took for that moron of an admiral to figure out what we were doing here and set up a military operation? How patient I was while he assembled a team that met my standards?”

  She holds up a palm, and a flame of fire materializes above it. Twisting her wrist, the flame grows. Then she slams her arm forward. Fire flies across the room and slams into the chest of one of the guards. Screams fill the air as he rolls around the room to escape the pain that won’t be eased. The other guard straightens his back and avoids looking at the burnt flesh now writhing on the ground.

  “And you almost ruined everything,” Cara continues, her voice returning to an eerie sweetness. She sits back down. Takes another sip of tea.

  “You,” she says, pointing at the other guard. “Clean that up.”

  The guard opens the double doors, then walks over to the smoldering heap. Agonizing moans curl out from under the remaining flames. Straight-faced, he lowers himself to the floor and begins to roll his fellow soldier out of the room. Screams erupt, and I close my eyes in an attempt to drown out the noise. It’s pointless; the doors shut, but I still hear his muffled wails through the wood.

  Cara opens the office windows to air out the stench of sulfur and burnt copper. Then she returns to me with a smile. “Now, Nautia, to take care of you. You see, from the beginning of this project, I knew you’d be the one who’d give me the most difficulty. You’re powerful. Smart. And unfortunately, instead of killing you off first, I had to use you. You were the only one who’d be believable for a proposed inside job.” Cara laughs. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “What did you do with everyone else?” I finally say.

  “Your classmates? Oh, sweet Nautia, they’ve been dead since you left the ship. Sorry.” She makes a pouty face.

  Nefarious bitch.

  “Of course no one could be kept alive, silly girl. The whole mission just had to look good, and I couldn’t resist taking out an entire graduating class of Brighton students. The fewer of you there are, the fairer society is. But don’t worry. Their deaths will go down as accidents. Casualties of war.” Cara smiles. “It’s all so melodramatic, don’t you think? The things we do to keep face.”

  “So what do you want with me?”

  “Nothing. You’ve served your purpose, so now you’ll die.”

  My whole body shakes, and I open my eyes. Rain pours down from dark clouds hovering the length of my room. Kray is on top of me, shaking me. As soon as we lock gazes, he lets go and crosses his arms. The annoyed façade doesn’t mask the concern in his eyes.

  “You can get off me too, you know,” I grunt.

  He scoots down low enough so I can finally breathe, but I’m still pinned down.

  “Gee, thanks,” I mutter.

  I raise my hands and the storm dissipates. A minute later, I have the excess water evaporated from my bed, my clothes, and Kray.

  After I finish, my best friend studies me, his eyes narrowing. I know the drill by now. He’s in my head, so I just stare back until he’s done.

  “That’s some freaky shit,” he says, shaking his head.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “There’s some non-freaky shit too, though.” He shoots me an impish half-grin, putting on the charm to distract me from the nightmare.

  “You heard something non-freaky in my mind? How is that possible?”

  “Not what I heard, princess. What I saw.”

  I sit up as much as I can with him lording over me, intrigued. “What did you see?”

  “The wall inside your head. Or, to be specific, what’s left of the wall.”

  I tilt my head. “The wall’s gone?”

  “Not gone, but it’s falling. Which makes me wonder�
��do you remember anything else besides what was in your dream?”

  I close my eyes and search into the depths of my brain. “Someone puts a bag over my head, and then I feel a prick at my neck. Then everything goes black.”

  “Nothing else? That’s it?”

  “Nope. That’s it. Wait, no. Cara called me Nautia in the dream, not Nate. This is Nate’s past, so why did she address me as me?”

  Kray shrugs, unfazed. “Because you’re dreaming it. You’re not a psychic. All of this could be half-fiction, half-truth. Didn’t you say you star in the dreams, instead of Nate?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Probably doesn’t mean anything.” He pauses for a second, thinking. His hypnotic gray eyes stare off without seeing. “The emotional training with Riley? Starts tomorrow?”

  “That’s what he said. He wasn’t specific on the time.”

  “Good. If you can break through your emotional barrier, the rest of the wall could crumble.”

  “Speaking of Riley, where is he?”

  “Do you really want to know, or do you just want me to get off your hips?”

  I fake-smile. “Both. You’re crushing me.”

  Kray rolls off the bed and saunters out of my room. Next, I hear him knocking on Riley’s door. A few seconds pass before he swings back in and collapses on my bed.

  “He’s not there.”

  I frown, glancing at the clock. “It’s three a.m.”

  Kray looks around me at the red numbers. “Nice job, Nautia. Telling time is such an important skill. I’m glad you finally mastered it. Next week, we’ll try an analog clock.”

  I punch his shoulder. “Smart ass.”

  “I don’t stay in my room every night, sweetheart. Unlike you, there are ladies on board who welcome my company.” Haskal sweeps in closer to Nautia and trails a couple of fingers down her cheek. My heart speeds up, and I want to rip his arm off.

  Except I can’t, because Haskal and I planned this exercise last night. Exact word choice, however, is left up to him. I have to see this through to its conclusion.

  “You know what would make it better?” He leans in and whispers something in her ear.

  Nautia’s eyes go wide, and her mouth opens in disgust. She shoves him away, and immediately the ship rocks.

  “God, Haskal. Get away from me!” She pushes past him and sits down at the cafeteria table.

  With a grin, Haskal finishes filling his tray before he slides in beside her. The guy is an asshole. Cara obviously saw it too. But I’m going to use Cara’s plan to teach Nautia control instead of the other way around.

  “Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” she says, scooting away on the bench.

  “No. Your actual words were ‘get away from me.’ But then you’re the one who left, so I doubted you knew what you were talking about.” His hand slithers up her thigh, his eyes fixated on her breasts.

  I hate this guy.

  “Come on, Nautia. Tonight. Ivan’s cabin. Three girls are better than one,” he murmurs, his voice oozing of sleaze.

  The ship sways in the opposite direction.

  “You’re a dick, Haskal,” she says.

  “Ah! So you’ve been thinking about my dick? You want the first taste, sweetheart?” He thrusts his hips into the air and grabs himself. “I’ll give you a nice ride.”

  Even from where I’m standing, I see the waves surging in Nautia’s eyes. Her cheeks redden, her gaze pinned to the wall in front of her.

  “Hmmm. I bet you get so wet,” he goes on.

  The water spins in Nautia’s glass like a maelstrom, and my guess is if I saw the ocean from here, I’d see a larger one swirling.

  Haskal grins, happy with the response he’s getting. I have all commanders on the top deck. Gibson’s out there too, ready to levitate away another twister should one form. They’re prepared for whatever Nautia throws at them.

  Haskal leans in for the kill. He trails the tip of his tongue from her jaw, up the side of her face. “You like it in the back, baby? ’Cause I want to bend you over and ream your ass.”

  That’s it. I’m going to ream this assface right off this ship.

  The Triton lurches to the side, throwing me against the doorjamb. A quick glance from Haskal tells me it’s my turn to take over. Britta and Kray have their legs wrapped around the bolted-down table, Kray’s body shielding Britta. Kray shoots me a look, but doesn’t interfere.

  When I reach Nautia, her eyes are drilling into Haskal. Waves rise and crash, swirl and move around her pupils.

  “Control, Nautia. Control,” Haskal says, turning serious and keeping eye contact. “If you can’t handle me, how will you handle Cara?”

  Nautia blinks, momentarily returning from her trance. Her hands fist at her sides. The erratic movements of water through her irises tell me she’s fighting her urges.

  I don’t touch her but slide in close. Coolness wafts off her skin.

  “Break through, Nautia. Don’t surrender to the emotion,” I tell her, replacing Cara’s ingrained mantra. “Break through.”

  Nautia’s eyelids fall closed as she unclenches her hands. The water in her drinking glass slows its rotation, and the ship dulls to a gentle swaying. I catch Kray’s attention. With an impressed head-bob, he shows his approval.

  When Nautia’s eyes open, both the water and the ship have stilled completely. Ignoring Haskal, she rotates to face me. Her chest rises as she works to catch her breath.

  “Training?” she asks.

  I nod to confirm.

  Her shoulders relax. “I didn’t kill anyone, so did I pass?”

  As soon as she says it, she bites her lower lip, drawing my attention there. Suddenly, I don’t care who else is in the cafeteria. I close the distance between us, cup her face, and kiss her.

  I peck the tip of her nose. “E for effort.”

  “Cliché.”

  I laugh. “I don’t grade until the task is complete.”

  A flirtatious glint passes over her features. “How will I know how I’m doing, then?”

  “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  Kray fake-coughs behind us. “Can you two keep your thoughts to yourself? I’m getting visuals.” He pauses for a moment. “On second thought …”

  “My mind is suddenly clear,” Nautia says.

  “Blocking you out again,” I tell him.

  “You’ve got to teach me how to do that,” Nautia replies.

  Kray grunts. “I think Riley has taught you enough.”

  Her head tips up to me, blue-green eyes brightening. “Not yet.”

  The next few weeks sail by, with progress made both in the simulation room and with Nautia’s emotional connection to her power. Unfortunately, we’re still far from calling either a success.

  My commanders have joined us for simulations, and we routinely make it to the weapons facility. Only half of the time, though, do we get inside. We’ve yet to make it back out.

  Nautia stays on high alert. Kray, Britta, and even Gibson have tried to get a rise out of her, but so far, Haskal seems to be the only person who can piss her off enough to make the encounter worth it. In Nautia, fear is a more difficult emotion to produce than anger, so for the last couple of days, I’ve sent her into the simulation room alone. I hate it, because she has to deal with whatever the computer gives her, and I’m helpless from the outside. The scenarios are working though; outside, the ocean has gone wild.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  Her toes rest on the edge of the red line, her focus on the center of the room. Her lips pucker as she exhales.

  “Yeah. I’m ready,” she finally says. Then she crosses the line.

  The area within the perimeter goes dark. When the lights return, all I see is Nautia’s outline. She’s lying horizontal on the f
loor. Her legs thrash, her body twists. In most of the scenarios, like this one, she relives her nightmares. Especially the ones where she’s inside the capsule. Her fear is that she’ll end up like her brother, killed by the element she’s supposed to control.

  USS Triton rocks and sways as she fights against the horror she experiences. Standing on the outside, all I can do is hold my breath. I watch her struggles, but I can’t help her. She’s alone in this, and I never want her to be that way.

  By the time the ship settles and the lights come back on, I’m dying to hold her. Instead of walking toward me, she remains on the floor, unmoving. She’s on her side, knees curled up to her chest and hands over her head. It takes half a second for me to realize something’s wrong. I run to her and fall to my knees beside her.

  “Nautia,” I say, rolling her onto her back. Her face is scrunched up, and tears fall freely down her cheeks.

  “I can’t do this, Riley. I can’t stop him from dying.”

  I gather her up in my arms. Press a kiss to her temple. “You can’t change the past. What’s done is done.”

  She shakes her head against me. “He was better than me. He should have been able to control it. Why couldn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. But what happened to Nate won’t happen to you. You can control it.”

  “No, but I couldn’t. The water, it kept urging me to do something, but it kept rising and rising. I was completely submerged, and I did nothing.”

  I push her back from me to look at her. “You mean Nate, right? Nate did nothing.”

  Nautia wipes the tears from her cheeks. “What?”

  “It was Nate trapped in the torpedo. This was just a simulation.”

  “I know. I said Nate.”

  “No, you said ‘I.’ I was submerged.”

  “I meant Nate,” she says in a hurry, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  I study her as her gaze shifts to the floor. The blue-green of her eyes lighten momentarily. All the standard signs are there. She’s hiding something.