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Inamorato

Page 13

by Keira Michelle Telford


  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. Not so sneaky now, are you?”

  “I thought you’d shit if you found out.”

  “I would, if I thought for a second that he was dumb enough to let it carry on. He’s worked too hard to make his rank for him to just throw it all away on—”

  He stops, afraid that those words might’ve come out wrong.

  “You know what I mean,” he finishes, taking another sip. “This is just the way it has to be, that’s all. You understand?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  Maydevine sees her pain, and appreciates her attempt to take it on the chin.

  “Good girl, Ellie Bean.”

  Silence.

  She tests the temperature of her cocoa with the tip of her tongue and chances a taste. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “What for?”

  “You signed my internship papers, even though I disobeyed you.”

  “Mr. King seems to think that you act out because you’re smothered in the Academy, so I’m testing his theory.”

  Ella swirls her hot chocolate. Is there no end to Alex’s interference?

  That reminds her, “Will you see to it that Jax Pryor doesn’t get expelled?”

  “After what she did in the Belt? No. Why? She deserves what she gets.”

  “She didn’t do it.”

  “She confessed.”

  “I was being set up. She confessed so that I wouldn’t get stuck with the blame.”

  “And the real culprit?”

  “Let it lie. It’s over. Accept Pryor as the guilty party and let them suspend her. Recommend that she repeat her final year if you want, but don’t let them expel her. Promise me, Papa. It’s not fair.”

  Maydevine sighs deeply. “I’ll see what I can do, El.”

  More silence.

  Ella pushes her drink away from her. “Do you mind if I just go to my room? I’m not feeling so good.”

  He doesn’t object. He knows she’s moping over Alex.

  “It’ll get better,” he says as she walks away. “It does get better.”

  She’s not sure if she believes him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Beauty in Her Shape

  Ella’s sixteenth birthday arrives.

  She hasn’t seen Alex since the Founders Day party, and her relationship with Luka seems to be on the mend. Since sixteen is the age of majority in Amaranthe, it’s a pretty big deal—especially for the Hunter General’s daughter.

  A party has been planned for months, and much of the Hunter Division is invited. Her peers will be there, of course, but it’s as much a networking party as it is an occasion for celebration. Not to mention, there’s dual reason to celebrate.

  Her internship program application was submitted several days ago, and she’s already received approval from the department. In just a few days, she’ll be joining a Hunter Division third line unit, and will work with them three days a week until her graduation. She’s on top of the world today, and nothing can shake her down.

  Many guests are already gathered by the time she arrives at the DDH function hall, hand-in-hand with Luka, and escorted by Maydevine.

  Luka has sharpened up for the occasion. His suit fits him well—custom made, as per Maydevine’s request, and on his money—and his shoes are polished and shined. He looks delicious, but it’s Ella who really draws the attention of the room.

  The girl who’s always seen in Hunter Division combats—whether during class time or not—and a ponytail, with blood underneath her nails and a chip on her shoulder, has transformed into something effortlessly stunning.

  Tonight, on Luka’s arm, she’s a woman in a black dress and strappy heels. Loose blonde hair bounces over her shoulders, and she might even be wearing makeup. The only traces of Hunter Division left on her are the tags around her neck, and the ones permanently fixed around her wrist.

  Alex, watching from the other side of the room, forgets that breathing is essential for life. He stops in mid-sentence, his frozen gaze causing the other Hunters around him to stare at the blue moon sight as well. Unfortunately, his sudden swell of attraction is quickly swamped by an unprecedented tidal wave of jealousy at the sight of Luka.

  At this moment, he would love to punch Luka right in his cocky grin. The boy’s so full of pride at his triumphant acquisition of such a highly sought after creature, and even though Alex has never met him, he gets the distinct impression that Luka cares more about the possession of such a treasure than he does about the care of it.

  It’s the way he looks at all the other girls in the room while Ella’s head is turned. He likes to see them fawning over him, and if he really loved her, he wouldn’t even notice they were there.

  Briefly, as Ella scans the room, her eyes fall upon Alex. As their eyes meet, she’s glued there for a moment, locked in his gaze until another Hunter nudges him, makes a joke, and pulls his attention away, causing the eye-lock to break. By the time he returns to her, she’s moved on, with Luka remaining close by her side.

  Through the obligatory meet and greets, Alex waits patiently. Eventually, the time will come for him to offer his own congratulations, both for her birthday, and for her acceptance into the Hunter Division internship program.

  Having found himself without a date for the event, he sticks with his Hunter Division unit, stealing glances at Ella whenever he’s able. He’s more drawn to her form than ever before, and he catches every tuck of her hair behind her ear, every flash of her wrist, and every smile or laugh as she moves about the room.

  His eyes are upon her when she bends to retrieve a fallen birthday card, and he watches carefully as her dress shifts and reveals a hint of what she hides beneath it. His eyes are upon her still when she leans across a table to shake hands with an older gentleman: the former Hunter General, who retired after serving only a few years at the helm of the Hunter Division.

  As she reaches to take his hand in hers, the slight rise of her dress behind her causes silky creases to fall and tumble over her posterior aspects. A faint smile tugs at Alex’s lips, but it’s rapidly erased when Luka, his arm around Ella’s waist, slips his hand down for a moment and sneaks a tender squeeze.

  Forever later, when the trio finally reaches Alex’s group, he hesitates to greet her. Suddenly struck by his longing for her, his heart goes into overdrive and he’s afraid to do anything at all. One Hunter kisses her cheek, and then another. Before he has time to think of a back-up plan—or any kind of a plan at all, no matter how ludicrous—it’s his turn.

  Perhaps she senses his uncertainty, or his nervousness. Either way, he keeps his hands firmly in his pockets and she reaches forward to greet him instead.

  Standing on tiptoe, she places one hand upon his chest and the other on his shoulder for balance. He can smell her perfume as she brings herself in so close to him, her breasts brushing softly against him while her smooth lips press confidently against his cheek.

  “Good evening, Mr. King.”

  Beneath her fingertips, she can feel the rhythm of his heart, and for a split second, she forgets to take her hand away. She steps back from him, her large silver eyes soaking him up as a perfect smile stretches across her lips. He’s just the most dashing thing she’s ever seen, and she can’t help but feel that familiar somersault in the pit of her stomach.

  “Happy birthday, Ella.” He manages to smile back at her.

  His hair is wild and free and he hasn’t bothered to shave. The roughness around his face gives him a casual fierceness that makes her tremble inside, and his eyes make her want to give everything away to him every time she looks at him.

  Despite that, she feels Luka at her shoulder and she forces herself to turn away. Though she may be legal, he made it quite clear that he’s not available, and that she must learn to keep her sights most firmly pinned on other things instead.

  Hurrah, a distraction!

  A bell rings for dinner, and the guests begin to take their seats. New World champagne is brought out by t
he bucket load, and Alex takes full advantage of it. Every now and then, his eyes are drawn back to the head table, either to Ella’s bright eyes, or the cut of her dress.

  After dinner, presents are opened. And what do you get for the soon-to-be Hunter who has everything? More weapons, of course. Knives, rifles, sub-machine guns—you name it, Ella is given it. The main feature, however, is saved for last.

  Maydevine’s gift.

  She tears away the paper to reveal … yet another gun case, but this one is engraved with the initials J.C..

  Jonathan Cross.

  The man who should’ve raised her.

  Her eyes well up as the memory of her first kill comes flooding back to her. She opens up the case to reveal the custom plated HK USP that she used to fire the shot into the beast. It’s silver, with his initials stamped in gold upon the barrel.

  The best gift she could ever hope for.

  The legacy of a man who fought courageously and died in battle, and a symbol of her papa’s trust in her.

  She leaps into Maydevine’s arms, the tears flowing. This is one rare occasion where crying in public couldn’t be considered shameful, but nevertheless, she soon excuses herself to dry her eyes in the washroom.

  She restores her impeccable exterior, but she doesn’t make her way back to the party.

  Not yet.

  Instead, she makes a beeline for the balcony. Alex is out there, leaning over the railing, smoking a cigarette alone.

  “You’ve been awful quiet tonight,” she observes. “Is there something on your mind?”

  The sound of her voice knocks him out of a reverie and he turns to face her, utterly shaken up by her. “Only that you look incredible tonight, but I’m sure a hundred people have already told you as much.”

  Ella conceals a blush by dipping her head and pretending to admire the view of the city. “Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it. Tomorrow, this dress is going straight in the garbage.”

  That makes Alex smile. “So you haven’t been converted?”

  “My feet hurt, my boobs are being pinched and squished in places that just aren’t right, and I feel as though every time I bend over I’m gonna show someone my star.”

  The smile turns into a chuckle. “It’s all part of the joy of being a lady, I’m afraid.”

  “Thank fuck I’m not a lady, then.” She dares to take a step closer to him. “I’m a Hunter, that’s all.”

  “You’re beautiful, I know that.” He finishes his cigarette. “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, I’ll dare to say, at the risk of being punched out by your boyfriend.”

  “Oh, it’s not him you need to worry about. Celia seems like she could be a pretty fearsome combatant.” Ella seamlessly segues into the question that’s been on her mind all evening. “Where is Celia tonight?”

  Alex tosses the butt of his cigarette away, hoping to make the following revelation appear casual by presenting it as though it has little meaning. “We’re not together. Not anymore.”

  Ella’s heart leaps. “Really? Why not? If it’s not improper for me to ask.”

  Alex shrugs. “It didn’t feel right. I guess it hadn’t for a while, but I didn’t really notice it until …” He fails to complete that sentence.

  The sight of a large scar on the palm of her left hand sends his memory racing back.

  “How’s the hand doing?”

  Ella had forgotten all about it.

  “Oh, hey, look.” She holds it out to him. “Nothing there that shouldn’t be there. There’s no cheese, and the stitches are out.”

  She lets him take her hand to inspect it, but he doesn’t let go of it when he’s done. His rough Hunter’s hands feel so warm against her skin, and he begins to caress her palm. He looks as though he’s building himself up to something, but he won’t look at her.

  He hangs his head and stares at the floor until she pushes into his personal space and reaches up to his face, lifting his gaze to meet hers.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He winces against a world that’s starting to spin off kilter, and once again, she can smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “How much have you had to drink this time?”

  “Enough, I think.”

  “Agreed.” She steadies him against one of the support pillars, pushing him firmly against it.

  He shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He makes a clumsy grab for her, reaching for the back of her neck and trying to pull her close to him, but she forces his hands away and pushes him from her.

  “I know what you meant, Alex.”

  “Then let me, before I lose the nerve altogether.”

  Ella presses both palms flat against his chest, holding him in place. His heart is thumping alarmingly hard, and she can feel every contour of his chest beneath his thin dress shirt.

  “What happened to all that talk about Academy tradition and mind games? Did you suddenly come to your senses? Or are you just eager to get laid now that you’re single and I’m legal?”

  “Ella, I—”

  “Wait. I’ve got a theory. Maybe you’re jealous because Luka can give me everything that you were too afraid to.”

  “He doesn’t deserve you.”

  Ella laughs. “And you do?”

  “I’ll show you, if you let me.”

  He reaches out to her again, but she holds his hands back.

  “As classy and romantic as you’re being right now, there’s just one small problem: I don’t want you to be drunk enough to kiss me. I need you to be man enough to love me.”

  With that, she turns and leaves.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sworn In

  Having been sworn in to the Hunter Division to begin her internship, Ella receives her new Omega platinum tag the morning after her birthday party.

  Returning home to an empty apartment, Maydevine being already at work, she busies herself with the mundane. One after the other, she polishes her shoes, her inherited HK USP, and—bored to the point of frustration—she even tackles a clock on the mantel.

  Considering helping a pile of laundry to make a much needed journey toward the washing machine, she finds the door to her papa’s home office enticingly open.

  Admittedly, it’s only slightly ajar, but usually it’s locked and she’s never been inside. She pushes on the door and it creaks open. His desktop computer is humming quietly in the corner, and a dead cigarette is crumbled to ash in the tray beside it.

  Whatever emergency called him in to work before the sun rose, it must’ve been important. Curious, Ella gives the computer a closer inspection. Up on the screen is the city’s tag network, and Maydevine is still logged in. Although she knows she shouldn’t, she can’t resist typing in a name.

  Ella Cross.

  She looks down at her bandaged wrist, then back up at the search results. The GPS locator is accurate to within several feet of her actual location: it thinks she’s in the living room. Every room in the house is mapped out, as is every single room on every single floor of every building in the entire Sentinel District.

  Another name.

  Gabriel Maydevine.

  He’s in the Governor’s office.

  One more.

  Alexander King.

  Searching …

  Ping!

  Kink Central.

  A Hunter frequented den of iniquity in the Fringe District.

  Unlike the Sentinel District, buildings in the Fringe District aren’t mapped out floor-by-floor, or room-by-room, and only a few of the buildings are even noted in the network at all. Mostly, it’s just a glowing mess of GPS dots.

  Looking at the screen, Ella’s heart begins to race as she suddenly becomes aware of a true thing: the prison District, always off limits in the past, is now within her grasp. She has a platinum tag and a license to carry weapons.

  Finally!

  Without hesitation, she changes into her brand new Hunter Division combat uniform. As usual, her name is embroidered ab
ove the chest of the Kevlar vest, but this time, the letter ‘I’ is in parentheses after it.

  Cross, Ella (I).

  She’s officially an Intern.

  She holsters her silver HK USP and several clips of ammunition, laces up her boots, and embarks upon a voyage of discovery. She doesn’t live far from the One Way Bridge that separates the Sentinel District from the Fringe District, and she makes it there on foot in under twenty minutes.

  In the middle of the bridge, the tag gateway—a sleek metal arch with automatic machine guns atop it—looms. On one side of it, there’s wealth and privilege. On the other side, there’s poverty and desperation. Beneath her feet, the well-maintained roadways of the Sentinel District abruptly cease to exist. Large cracks appear in the tarmac, and perennial weeds creep up through them like a silent protest against the abandonment of everything that lies beyond.

  One step further.

  Then two.

  She moves beyond the tag gateway and she feels her first addictive rush of imperium, bolstering her already swelling Hunter’s ego. Caring not one bit about the danger surrounding her in this place, she navigates her way through the twists and turns of the Fringe District, determined to learn its geography by her detailed exploration of it.

  Stepping over the corpses of Ripper victims—people who died while having their prison tags extracted, or ripped, so that they could be sold on the black market—she makes her way toward the coordinates of Kink Central.

  One victim’s wrist has been sliced so badly that it’s practically severed from his arm. Rats have already found the body, though it’s not yet cold, and they’ve begun picking at its eyes and mouth, delving deep into any exposed orifices.

  Close by, a peddler ambles through the streets with a wooden beam across his shoulders, three Chimera heads dangling from hemp rope on either side of it.

  A sign around his neck makes his terms of business clear.

  For trade only.

  Need: shoes, pillow, liquor, kicks, weed, or a bath.

 

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