Gently, I grasp his chin and turn his head toward me. The tormented look in his eyes suffocates me, and I feel his emotions slithering over my skin. My heart throbs in shared anguish. I press a soft kiss to his lips. He holds my head in his strong hands, pressing his forehead to mine.
After a minute or two, he eases back, eyeballing me. “I got in a fight”—he snorts—“as if that was anything new, and I came back to our quarters early. The sound of laughter was coming from Mom’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, so I peeked in. She was in bed with a man, and they were kissing and fooling around, totally oblivious to my presence. I knew him. He was one of my friend’s fathers, another king.” His gaze darkens. “She never knew, Sadie. She didn’t know I’d seen them. Not until it was too late,” he whispers, his eyes full of regret and shame.
Extracting his hand, he claws it through his hair. “I was disgusted with her. Not for cheating per se. Hell, I don’t think I actually gave two shits about that. I was mad at her for messing around with someone who was a known opponent of my father, and of our way of life. I don’t think I spoke to her the entire trip home. I could barely look at her.”
He climbs to his feet, pacing the ground in front of me. I watch him with hawk eyes. “I went to my father the minute we arrived back and told him what I’d witnessed. He flew into a rage, worse than anything I’d ever seen. He vented to me, ranting, and scheming and I … I indulged him, encouraged him. But I swear, I didn’t know he was going to do what he did.”
I get slowly to my feet. “Your father killed your mother?” I ask softly.
His jaw clenches taut. “No, I killed my mother. He may have been the weapon that squashed the life force from her body, but I was the ammunition and the trigger. I gave him the incentive and did nothing to discourage him from his angry tirade. It’s my fault. Totally my fault.”
He ducks his head and shoves his hands in his pant pockets. His transparent self-blame knifes me straight through the heart. This is God-awful. “Were you there when he …?” My voice peters out, unable to articulate the horrific thought.
He eyeballs me as he shakes his head. Thank the Lord for small mercies. I step forward and drape myself around him like a koala. Gradually, his rigid body relaxes in my embrace. I lean back a little and look up at him, gently cupping one side of his face. “You aren’t responsible for your father’s actions, Logan. You were only a kid.”
“That’s no excuse,” he snaps, and I flinch at his stern timbre, withdrawing my hand from his face. “You know we mature more progressively. I was old enough to know better. To understand that my father wouldn’t react well to it. I wanted her punished; I wanted her to pay.” He gulps. “But not like that,” he whispers. His eyes scrunch up.
“You may have felt like that, but you didn’t act on those feelings. That’s what counts. Your father is at fault, Logan. Not you.” I rub my hands up and down his back in a soothing gesture.
“I can’t deny the part I played in Mom’s demise.”
This admission puts a lot of things into perspective. Explains some of his actions. His constant worry and fear for my safety. The almost obsessive need to swaddle me in cotton wool. The overbearing responsibility for my welfare. “You can’t continue to blame yourself. You have to try to find forgiveness. How many more years will you harbor the guilt, letting it consume you until there’s nothing left of the person you are? And don’t deny that it’s killing you because I can see it, feel it. You need to let it go.”
He caresses my cheek as he looks profoundly into my eyes. I’m drowning in a vast ocean, and I don’t want to keep my head above water. “And that’s the other thing, Sadie. I didn’t feel guilty at first. Not at all. Sure, I missed my mom like crazy, and I never stopped loving her, but these guilty feelings didn’t surface for years. It was only after talking to Evana about it that I realized how everything I thought and felt and did that day was all the wrong way around.”
Most of the time, I forget that Logan doesn’t have the same moral compass as me because, in the main, he hasn’t tended to act as such. But of course, an absence of conscience wouldn’t allow a boy to wallow in self-remorse or guilt for the events that transpired that day. The more ethical he becomes, the more he suffers delayed reactions.
I wonder what else is hiding in the wings, waiting to derail him.
“I doubt your mom would want you to carry so much guilt, especially after all this time.” I stroke his face, and he melts into my hand.
“I know. But it’s not easy to let go of it.”
“I understand that. All you can do is try.” I rest my head on his chest and hold him close, willing the grief away.
“Sadie,” he says, a few minutes later, resting his chin atop my head. “Did the two Amaretti soldiers who broke into your cell hurt you beyond what I can see?” He is jarringly calm, but I sense the nuance of anxiety undercutting his tone.
My head jolts up fast. Scanning his troubled face, I understand exactly what he’s asking. “No, Logan. I fought them off until Win arrived on the scene.”
“I’m so sorry, Sadie. I—”
“Stop right there.” I place my hands firmly on his shoulders. “You are not responsible for me ending up on Amara or for anything that occurred while I was there. And I’m fine. Dali took real good care of me, so please, please, don’t feel guilty about that.”
“I was so scared. I knew something was wrong. I could feel your emotions skittering all over the place, and I was terrified that Win wouldn’t get to you in time.”
“But he did.”
“But you were injured! And you had to fight them off! That’s not okay with me.” He pouts in exasperation.
I poke his chest with my finger. “My injuries are gone, and I got to practice the skills Haydn taught me, so they were actually doing me a favor.”
He shoots me a “You’re being ridiculous” look.
“Logan, I know a lot of this is new to you, but trust me when I say you can’t go around bottling everything up, carrying around a bucket-load of guilt. I’m speaking from experience when I say it will destroy you if you persist in thinking like this. Accept the mistakes you’ve made, decide to learn from them, and put them in the past, move on.”
He swallows hard. “Okay, oh wise one,” he jokes, and I can tell how much of an effort it is to appear lighthearted.
I grin. “Good. Now shut up and kiss me.”
There is no sign of Dali or Win when we return to the cabin. I smile to myself, trusting that means things went well. Logan ignites the fire and dims the lights, and we snuggle up on the couch with a bottle of some strange orange stuff. He assures me it’s non-alcoholic, and I accept a glass, taking a tentative sip. The liquid is spicy and strong, the flavor rich and intense, but not unpleasant. I kick off my shoes and swing my legs up onto the couch, resting my back against Logan’s warm inviting chest.
We sit there in amicable silence, his fingers sneaking through my hair. Though the environment is calm, my thoughts are fractured. Logan has been brutally, painfully honest with me today, and I’m still keeping a boatload of secrets. Now that we’re reunited and committed to staying as a team, I’m going to have to come clean. He won’t be pleased, but hopefully he’ll understand my motivations. I ponder telling him right now, but it’s been a testing day, and I don’t want to ruin the lovely atmosphere.
Logan’s earlier confession weighs on my mind, too. I hate that he blames himself for something that clearly wasn’t his fault. But I’m more intrigued by the timing of his guilty conscience. We’ve discussed his love for Evana before: how she’s acted like a surrogate mother to him, and how good her influence has been. But now I’m wondering if it’s more than that. If the assumptions being made about the human-Saven conscience transfer aren’t quite right.
I twist around so I can look at him. “Logan?” His fingers stall in my hair. “I’ve been thinking.”
He feigns surprise. “Should I be worried?” His teasing grin curls my toes.
“Hardy, har. Can you focus here, please?” His expression grows serious. “What if your scientists are wrong? What if the conscience transfer isn’t about sex? What if it’s actually about love?”
“I think I know where you’re going with this, but humor me. How have you reached that conclusion?”
I adjust my position, sitting up on my knees. “I’ve been thinking about how you and Haydn and Neve have always seemed to have some element of morality. And we agreed before that it was down to Evana’s influence. And then I was thinking about what happened with Jen …” I trail off into a whisper. It’s so hard to think or talk about my friend. Logan squeezes my hand in quiet reassurance. “I know her and Dante shared a connection, an attraction, and they did care for one another on one level. But it wasn’t love. And when they slept together, Jen wasn’t one hundred percent in agreement. So your scientists are right about that aspect of it. But what if love is actually the key, not sex? Love in all its many forms? That changes things. Offers other possibilities.”
He taps a finger off his lips while he thinks. “I think you could be onto something.”
“So what can we do about it?”
“I’m not sure right now. But it’s certainly food for thought.”
I wake up in bed alone the next morning. I don’t remember falling asleep. Logan must have carried me from the couch. Looking down at my undergarments, I realize he must’ve also undressed me. Lost promises of rain checks have my body pulsing with remembered need.
Shaking my head, I mentally scold myself for prioritizing the wrong things.
There are plans to be made.
High-level stuff to discuss.
Secrets to be shared.
Shoving my concern aside, I get up and scrounge through the box of clothing I took from the ship, looking for something to wear. I yank item after item out, but I can’t find anything suitable. This clothing is way too big and far too weird looking. I walk to the closet and open it wide. Various garments hang pristinely on a white rack, shrouded in protective covering. Indecision bites me. Clearly, these belonged to Logan’s mom. I don’t know if he’d like me wearing them, and I don’t want to do anything to dredge up more harrowing memories. I shut the door quietly, grabbing my bag and pulling my running gear on.
Mouth-watering smells greet me as I step barefoot into the kitchen. Logan is busy at the stove, humming to himself, his back to me. “Well, aren’t you the picture of domesticity,” I joke, draping myself around his waist from behind.
He spins around super-fast, his imposing frame impeding my view. “Out. Now.”
I pout until my eyes dip and I scan his upper torso. I can’t help it, I bust out laughing. “Nice apron!” I hoot, convulsing at the vision of my man in a cerise pink frilly smock.
“Shut up.” I detect the humor in his tone. “We’re low on clothes, and I didn’t want to get dirty.”
“A likely excuse.” He flips the dishcloth at me, and I scream, jumping back. He gives me the once-over, his eyes lingering on my teeny-tiny shorts, and his gaze darkens with lust. A surge of hormonal yearning pulses low in my core. “You look hot.”
I take a step forward, seconds away from jumping him.
“Morning.” Win deliberately interrupts us with his loud greeting. Turning around, I grin at Dali and Win, standing self-consciously side by side.
“Dali, just the person I need,” Logan says, gesturing her forward with a wiggle of his fingers.
She leans into him, and he whispers animatedly. She steps back, grinning ear from ear. “I know just the thing,” she tells him before linking her arm through mine. “Come on. Girlie time.”
She starts to drag me away. “Hang on, what’s going on?” I ask Logan. “What are you up to?”
He winks. “Have you forgotten what day it is?”
“Well, duh! Of course! I lost all track of time once I left New York. Why do …” My speech slips away as I figure it out. “Oh!”
“Happy Birthday, babe,” Logan says, yanking me into his arms for an earth-shattering kiss. “Now, scoot, before you ruin your surprise.” He swats my butt gleefully before handing me over to Dali.
“We’ve more important things to discuss today,” I chastise him. “Besides, you already gave me my present.” My fingers clasp my pendant.
“You’re only eighteen once, so we’re doing this my way. Don’t argue. Now get! Go!”
I jab my finger in his rock-solid abs. “You need to learn some patience, buddy.”
“Patience is for wimps.”
I roll my eyes as I follow Dali out to her bedroom.
I throw myself down on Dali’s bed and pat the space beside me. “Okay, spill. What happened last night with Win?”
A massive smile lights up her face. “I told him everything, and he kissed me and told me he loves me too, but he doesn’t think he’s good enough for me.” Her smile dies out, replaced by a look of unadulterated sadness. “So, we’re in limbo. And it’s complicated with everything else we’ve got going on. Stopping my father has to take precedence right now.”
“It’ll work out,” I say, taking her cold hands in mine. An involuntary shiver creeps over my skin, but I hide it well. “You love each other. That’s the important thing.”
She makes a disgruntled sound, not entirely convinced. “Anyway, enough about me. Time to focus on the birthday girl.” She lets loose a stream of foreign words, and two green fleshy jelly-like creatures float under the door into the room. They hover in the air in front of us, staring out of lifeless white eyes. My breathing stutters. “Dali,” I whisper. “What the heck?”
“Don’t be afraid. They won’t hurt you. They are called memebaa and they have unique powers of relaxation and rejuvenation. At home, they form part of my weekly beauty regime. Now lie back and close your eyes. You are going to love this.”
“That’s debatable,” I mutter, but I do as she instructs.
My tongue grows heavy as I lie in wait. Then something slimy lands on my face, and I jump up screaming, arms and legs flailing all over the place. The creature spins out of control, flying to the farthest corner of the room. Its boneless form starts quivering. Beside me, Dali is shaking with laughter. It takes a couple of minutes before she is composed enough to speak. “You are too funny.” She wipes moisture from her eyes. “Relax. Look, watch me.” She closes her eyes, and the creature floats down, draping itself all over her face. Its body mass slithers and slides, in and out, up and down, like gentle waves coasting the shoreline. Dali lets out a happy sigh. “Lie back, Sadie, and give into the pleasure.”
I gulp nervously as I flatten out on the bed. The creature cautiously approaches from its hiding place, and I clamp my eyes shut, mentally preparing myself. I stiffen as the slimy surface lands on my face, but I stay immobile this time. A heavenly warmth sweeps over my face and treks up and down my arms and into all my limbs, heating every part of me. My skin lightly vibrates as I feel the sensation sink into my bones. I moan quietly, and Dali chuckles. The soothing heat has reached every part of me, and I tingle deliciously all over. It’s akin to being swaddled in the most luxurious, most comfortable blanket in front of the coziest fire, as flames lick every inch of skin, coating and binding and easing every ache and pain, obliterating every worry and concern.
I feel nothing but pleasurable warmth, and I give into it fully.
A while later, the heat subsides, and I sense the creature lifting off me. My eyes remain closed as I savor the blissful feeling.
“We should clean up,” Dali says sleepily.
I open my eyes and stare at her. A fine layer of clear gunk coats her face. Using my fingers, I prod the gooey substance on my own face. Huh. I shunt off the bed as she opens her eyes. “Did you enjoy it?”
“That was the strangest experience of my life,” I admit, “but I can’t deny it was enjoyable. What’s this stuff?” I gesture toward my face.
“The memebaa’s secretion has the highest concentration of youth-enhancing and skin-softening nut
rients. All the ladies of court swear by this procedure. Once the heat is gone, the effects have worn off, and we can wipe it away.”
Eww. As the implications sink in, I think I might puke.
She swings her legs off the bed, and we walk to the bathroom and remove all traces. The creatures have already bolted.
I’m feeling my face when we walk back into the living area. It’s never felt so silky smooth, and my bones continue to feel like rubber limbs. Although, I’m still struggling to get over the fact that I just let some weird alien creature crap all over me.
I don’t think I’ll be forgetting this birthday in a hurry.
The lights are dim and a sweet floral scent lingers in the air. Logan lands in front of me, a bunch of unusual-looking flowers in his hand. “For you.”
I bury my nose in the pink, red, and green bundle, inhaling deeply. The scent is strange but not unpleasant. “Thank you.” I beam up at him, slinging my arm around his waist and snuggling in close.
He brings me over to the couch and gently pushes me down. Win sits facing me, rather standoffish and uncomfortable looking, and I wonder again what his deal is. A large round cake, covered in pink and white icing, rests on the middle of the low table. My eyes well up as I look at Logan. “You made me a cake.” A streak of pink icing has dried on his cheek. Licking my finger, I wipe it clean. Fire blazes brightly in his eyes, and the air charges with effervescent electricity. We stare at one another, unable to tear our gaze away.
Win coughs in transparent annoyance, and the moment is effectively broken.
Logan divvies it up, and I waste no time tucking into a large red-colored slice. It tastes like nothing I’ve tasted before, and the myriad of strange delicious flavors swirl around my tongue. When I’m done, I lick my lips and flatten a hand over my belly. “I think I could get used to cake for breakfast. That was yummy, thank you.” I give Logan the quickest peck on the cheek. No sense in testing Win’s limit’s any further this morning.
After the dishes are cleared, we get down to the serious stuff. It’s agreed that our main concern is stopping the Amaretti from attacking Saven and invading Earth. Dali wants to approach some of the neighboring planets for help, counting on at least a handful of guaranteed alliances. Win agrees to travel with her after dropping us off in New York. Once she has an alliance in place, she intends to return home to try to talk sense into her father. “If that doesn’t work, then I’ll go to Chancellor Xava and apply for a Renunciation Order. I’m confident I’ll get the backing I need, though I genuinely hope it won’t come to that.”
Saven Disclosure (The Saven Series Book 2) Page 22