I reach in through the broken window and seize a blaster. Thanks to the sensor gloves, I can feel it in my hands. Rak grabs one as well, and we turn to face the monster.
It's a black, scaly creature with gaping, slavering jaws and dead-white eyes. With each step, it crushes vehicles or bodies, blood and dark oils oozing between its claws.
A vehicle roars up behind us, and four soldiers leap out. "What should we do, commanders?" they say to us. "What are your orders?"
Rak glances at me, and I nod encouragingly. "Talk to them."
"I don't think the creature can see very well," says Rak. "Let's flank it and look for a weak spot."
"I'll take these two and go up this side of the street," I tell him. "You three go that way."
We split up, running along the street on opposite sides until we're nearly abreast of the monster. It lowers its flat, scaly snout, slitted nostrils flaring to catch our scent. Then its head lifts again and it chomps out a section of the building behind me. Debris clatters around, and I cover my head with my arms.
"Zilara!" Rak cries, and there's real fear in his voice. The creature reacts to his call, its head sinking low to the street again as it sniffs.
"Now!" I shout, and the six of us open fire, blasting the beast, aiming for the eyes. With a deafening screech, the monster lunges at Rak, and he darts aside. The massive jaws close on one of his soldiers, and the man is lifted into the air, screaming. Tilting back its head, the monster swallows the man whole. Then its head lowers again, and I know that this is our last chance. We fire on the beast with everything we have—I'm running toward it, blasting the eye nearest me with pulse after pulse. Chunks of white eye-flesh splatter against the pavement. With a shudder and a hideous keening whine, the monster crumples and stills.
People flow out of buildings, cheering for us, and the music swells triumphantly. I grin at Rak, but he doesn't smile back. The scene vanishes, and blue lights appear, showing us the exit.
Rak is silent as we strip off the halos and gloves and return them to the attendant. He strides into the plaza, and I hurry after him. "What did you think?"
His eyes burn, and the muscles of his jaw are knotted. "You do that for fun?"
"Sometimes. Rarely. We don't have one at home, but I've done it here before, and in the city. You didn't like it?"
"I've seen soldiers die in real wars, Zilara. I don't enjoy reliving that feeling."
"I'm sorry. Not all the scenarios are like that."
He's still walking fast along the edge of the square, his body tense. I dart in front of him and stop his progress with a hand on his chest. His heart thunders beneath my fingers.
"Rak, I'm sorry. I didn't think about how it might affect you."
"I'm fine," he snaps. "You think I can't handle a little make-believe? I know it wasn't real."
Two drones float near us, like wasps ready to sting, and I have the sudden urge to pull out a gun and shoot them. Too bad I don't carry a gun in Ceanna.
"Try to calm down," I whisper, running my hands down his arms. The muscles are rock-hard, his fists clenched. He's in total fight mode.
"Anything wrong?" says a cool voice from the shadows to my left.
No. Oh, no. Not here, not now.
Gareth pushes himself away from the wall of the building and steps closer to us, the light catching his pale hair. His eyes are black-lined, and he wears an orange shirt under a dramatically cut sea-blue jacket.
Rak's muscles twitch under my fingers.
"Nothing's wrong," I say, as lightly as I can. "We were just discussing how exciting the dual mode scenario was. So intense."
Gareth saunters a little nearer. "I suppose it could be overwhelming to someone who isn't used to all the wonders of technology."
I sigh, shaking my head. "This is Gareth Vandelor. And Gareth, this is Rakhi Masdar."
"Rakhi," says Gareth, with an insolent slow-blink of his white-lashed eyes. "I'm not sure I see the attraction, Zil. I suppose he has a sort of rough animal appeal going on, but really?" A thin, disdainful laugh. "What university did he attend?"
"I've been a little busy with war," Rak replies. "But it's on my list."
Gareth raises his eyebrows, looking only at me. "You plan to turn the stray into a scholar. How ambitious. Maybe while he's occupied with his studies, you and I can get reacquainted." There's pure sin in his amber eyes and in the swerve of his body as he leans toward me.
I'm shaking, because Rak is going to punch him. I know it. And then everything I've worked for tonight will be ruined, because Gareth, beautiful Gareth, is already beloved in Ceanna, and if Rak hurts him—
Rak laughs, real and rich and deep, and gathers my hand in his. "You're welcome to try, little Ceannan princeling. Though I don't like your chances." He gives Gareth a half-bow. "A pleasure to meet you, but now we must attend to some 'animal' needs. Your wonderful tech does work up an appetite."
He steers me away, toward the spread of food. I'm just as speechless as Gareth.
"Put a drink in my hand before I go back and knock him out," Rak says in a low tone.
I chuckle. "Now that's more like you." I pull a bottle from one of the ice-filled tubs and hand it over. "No alcohol, just sugar and chemicals."
He quirks an eyebrow. "Sounds enticing."
Just then I spot Berri and a couple of her crew moving through the crowd toward us.
"Drink quickly," I say to Rak. "It's showtime."
Berri is short and curvy, with a bush of blue and purple hair and eyebrows to match. Her nose is pierced through the septum, and the ring connects by thread-thin chains to the lobe of her ear, where she wears an intricate cuff. Her opposite cheek is pierced, too, accentuating a deep dimple.
"Zilara Remay," she says, gripping my hand in both of hers. "Such an honor. I've arranged for us to do the interview in one of the House living areas, if that works for you."
"Of course."
"Then follow me, please."
Berri's team has everything ready for the interview, their equipment set out in a living room filled with couches and thick rugs and glittering cushions.
"You sit here, please, Zilara. And you—" She grabs Rak and positions him. "Here. Don't mind Larr, he's our vid guy. And there will be a drone buzzing around to get fresh angles—just ignore it. All right, I think we're ready—and right on time too. Vid up, everyone!"
I brace myself, taking on the starry-eyed smile I practiced in the mirror last night. Giggling and gushing isn't really my style, but that's what the Ceannan people want. Romance. Drama. Sex. I'll give it to them, if it will make them love us enough to protect Rak.
Berri fixes me with a broad smile that doesn't dull the sharpness of her gaze. "Welcome, and I think I speak for my watchers when I say it's rutting magnetic to have you on the vid tonight."
Magnetic? That must be fresh slang. The "in" words change every few weeks in Ceanna.
"Thanks!" My cheeks already feel like they'll split from the size of my smile. "It's so exciting to be here."
"First question, and something we're all very, very curious about—who the stars is this hunk of gorgeous?" There's a glint of sincere admiration in her eyes.
"This is Rakhi. He's one of the Fray rebels who abducted me in Emsalis."
One of the vid crew members gasps, and Berri's eyes widen. She leans forward, like a jacanal scenting prey. "Tell us everything."
Another version of my story flows from my lips, slightly different from the ones I told the doctors, the psychologist, the Council, or my friends. This adaptation includes much more giggling and fluttering of my lashes; and it focuses heavily on the danger and romance of the experience, with Rak as the brave, self-sacrificing hero—not much of a stretch, since he fits that role better than anyone I will ever know. I don't speak of his excision, or his family, but I make it clear that he gave up everything to keep me safe.
"So of course I had to bring him with me," I gush, wrapping my arm around his. "They would have killed him, or imprisoned hi
m. I just hope he's approved to stay here in Ceanna."
Berri raises her eyebrows. "There's a question about it?"
"Some people still aren't sure if he belongs here, because of his past," I say, dropping my smile and letting my lashes droop.
"Sounds to me as if he has proven his loyalty thoroughly enough," says Berri. "Rakhi, tell me—when did you decide that Zilara wasn't your enemy?"
"Right after I saved her from a scourgeling," he says.
"And when did you realize you loved her?"
The question startles me, because it's abrupt and slightly inappropriate, and because I don't know the answer. Berri is watching Rak keenly, and I wonder if she posed the question for shock value, or to throw him off.
But Rak doesn't hesitate. "I knew I loved her when she stole my gun and tied me to a chair." He's grinning, but he's also completely serious.
Berri laughs. "You still had some things to work out, yes? And as Zilara told us, you gave up a lot to help her. Can you tell me some of what was going through your mind during those days on the run?"
He shifts beside me and sighs. "I was afraid my family would reject me. I knew my faction would probably label me a traitor and lock me up, or kill me. Sometimes I didn't know if either of us would survive." His hand slips over mine. "But at the same time, I felt that I was doing the right thing—that nothing in my life had ever been so right. And not even death could be worse than a world without Zilara in it."
Berri dabs at her eyes, a motion I can barely see, because mine are brimming with tears. The sincerity, the love in his voice has undone me. I drive my nails into my palms and look up at the ceiling—anything to keep from bursting into joyful sobs in front of the biggest live vid audience in Ceanna.
"Well, I'm overcome," says Berri. "Watchers, let's show our support for this brave, beautiful pair by commenting and by feeding this vid everywhere! Thank you both for being with us tonight. Oh, let's have a kiss before you go!" She motions us together, and we lean in. I'm glad to hide my trembling lips against Rak's, and as we kiss, I close my eyes and a tear escapes, sliding down my face. I feel the warm scrape of his thumb over my cheek, wiping it away as he kisses me again, deeply, sweetly. A tight bud of tension deep inside me unfurls into rippling rose-colored petals, warm and soft and alive.
When we move apart, Berri is staring. "You two have amazing chemistry," she says, fanning herself. "Such a treat to speak with you loves."
The vid crew moves to focus solely on her for the last segment of the show, while Rak and I quietly rise from the couch and leave the room, hand in hand.
The instant we're clear of the interview space, Rak's hand tightens around mine, almost painfully. He pulls me up the stairs of the house, past intertwined couples and laughing groups of students. Tram and Ridley follow, and a few drones trail us, too, lights flickering, recording.
"Where are we going?" I whisper to Rak.
"Somewhere—away," he says, angling his eyes up at the drones.
"Then follow me. I know a quiet place where we can talk." I lead him to the end of the hall and press a series of buttons on a panel. A section of the wall folds inward, and I duck inside. Rak squeezes through behind me.
"Tram, Ridley, just wait here," I say. "It's fine." And I close and lock the door quickly, before any people or drones can dart in with us.
10
Blackness envelops us like a curtain, velvet and hushed. I'm conscious of Rak's sweaty palm, of his fingers gripping mine. His rough breathing, his heat.
"Lights on." My voice is hoarser than I expected.
Soft light illuminates the small room, which is mostly filled by a massive bed piled with luxurious cushions and silky sheets. Instead of holo-projections, the walls feature real paintings of nude men and women. It's a den of lust, and Rak flushes as he meets my eyes.
"How did you know about this place?" he asks.
"I've been here before. My ex-boyfriend before Gareth, Kanni—he was a member of Riot Circle. This room is reserved for their top-tier members. He taught me the code."
I'm not ashamed of my zest for life, or of my appreciation for beautiful boys and their bodies; but part of me wishes that I could relive each of those trysts with Rak instead. And I wish I didn't have to see the emotion burning in his eyes now.
"How many?" he asks.
I know what he means, but I pretend not to. "How many what?"
"How many men have you been with?"
"Three."
He nods, releasing my hand and turning away. I step after him and lay my hands against his back. "I'm not sorry," I say. "Each of them meant something to me, and I gave each one a piece of myself. But I didn't love any of them like I love you—with my whole heart. With my soul."
Do I believe in a soul? For him, I think I could.
I run my fingers up to his shoulders, following the curves of his muscles. Closer, closer I move, till I'm pressed against him, my arms slipping around his torso, my hands spread on his chest, my cheek against his back. He's breathing slow and heavy.
"What was that, during the interview?" he says. "I've never seen you like that before. So—silly."
"An act, of course," I say, tracing the lines of his chest with my fingertips. "Me, but with a sparkly overlay of smitten schoolgirl. Did you like it?"
"I like every facet of you," Rak takes my hands, stilling their motion and turning to face me. "But I love you best when you're not hiding your strength and your spirit."
"Such a good answer," I breathe, rising on my toes to kiss him. He's tense, taut as a string on a viol, and I would love to play him till he loosens and yields to me completely. But my father will soon hear of the interview with Berri, and I need to be at home to manage him when he does.
"We have to go," I whisper. "But maybe you'll let me bring you back here sometime."
His brows lift as he glances around the room. "Not likely."
I twist my fingers into his, leading him out of the room and back into the maelstrom of drunken yells and lust-swollen lips and surging bodies and thumping music. Ridley and Tram fall in behind us.
The party is unraveling fast now, transforming into something dark and dangerous. Half-dressed girls and guys stumble past, roaring with laughter. Others crouch in shadows, their eyes glazed, enraptured by scenes that only exist in their heads. In a dark corner, a tangle of bodies gyrates under swaths of shiny fabric. Not far away, a pair of girls are screaming insults, and as we pass they lunge at each other, nails ripping and teeth bared.
Rak stiffens. "Should we—"
I shake my head. "Never get involved."
"Why not?"
"For the same reason you wouldn't let me stop and speak to those beggar children back in Ankerja—because you never know what the fallout will be. Interfering would probably backfire on us."
We dodge through a gap in the crowd, and suddenly the pool spreads before us, gleaming water and slicked bobbing heads and wet arms waving. Barely in time, we halt at its edge.
"There!" I point at the opposite side, where Alik and Safi recline side by side on a wide lounge, trading kisses with each other and with a pair of swimsuit-clad girls.
Skirting the edge of the pool to reach them proves more difficult than I expected. Bare dancing feet bump into my legs, elbows catch my ribs, and shoulders jostle me. My bodyguards are having trouble keeping up; but in this frenzy, no one recognizes me anyway. For a few moments I'm blissfully unremarkable.
Then someone grabs my rear, squeezing. Rak snarls a curse at the culprit; but I'm thrown off balance, and the next shoulder-bump sends me toppling into the pool.
I sink straight to the bottom, the water stinging my eyes as I open them. It's a churning liquid forest down here, only instead of seaweed there are legs of all shapes and colors, peach and brown, white and black, hairy and smooth. I push through the gently waving mass of them, kicking toward the surface, but an elbow strikes the top of my head and I sink again.
My lungs tighten. I didn't get a decent bre
ath before I fell in.
Panic squeezes my heart, and I claw upward again. My insides are swelling; my chest is ready to burst.
And then the water lifts me. It swirls, parting the people above my head, sweeping me up through the gap. My face breaks the liquid edge and I breathe, rising high into the air, carried on a platform of water that deposits me at the edge of the pool.
Rak quickly lowers his hands, tucking them into his pockets. People all around us are gasping and exclaiming, but I don't think anyone realizes he was responsible for the phenomenon—which is good, because Rak's raw Evolved power is something I don't feel like explaining to anyone until he has full rez status.
We squeeze through the press of people, coming face to face with Ridley and Tram.
"It's too crowded, Miss Zilara," says Ridley. "Too much risk. We need to leave."
I nod, scraping wet strands of hair from my cheeks. "Tram, go get Safi and Alik, please."
He nods. "You go back to the hoverpod."
In a situation as out-of-control as this one, he gets to give the orders, so I don't protest. Ridley pushes through the crowd ahead of us, her fierce eyes and squared shoulders demanding passage. Even though I feel like cringing against Rak, I saunter boldly through the exit and down the walk to where my pod is already swooping into place.
And then we're inside, and the door shuts out the shuddering, glaring lights and the wild cacophony of the party.
Inside the pod, quiet music trickles to my ears, and soft lights shine on the cushioned seats. Rak's hand warms my lower back, sending trickles of sensation into deepest parts of me. Suddenly I realize that I'm completely dry. Rak must have siphoned the water off me while we fought our way out of the crowd.
"We stayed too long," Ridley says, concern lining her face. "We should have left earlier. I'm sorry."
"Don't be hard on yourself," I say. "These parties go wild really fast."
Rak sits silent beside me, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his thighs, hands stretched before him.
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