Coal tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You are so very lovely,” he whispered. “I am bewitched by you.”
She blushed like a silly girl, flicking her bottom lip ring, unsure of how to reply.
He repositioned himself until his hair formed an intimate curtain around their faces and she could see only him. “Lynden Nichols,” he whispered, “would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
The blood in her veins froze.
“Not legally, right?” she whispered back.
“I spoke with Mack—”
“Oh god. Your first mistake.”
Coal blinked with humor and whispered, “Rainbow Leigh, would you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Draken Smyth?”
“I ... uh ... are you serious?”
“I never wish for you to doubt my love.”
“What if we’re discovered? I can’t lose you again. The pain was torture, like I was dying.”
“I shall die if you ever accuse me once more of feigning affections for you.” His features hardened and the tendons in his neck flexed. “Or even suggest that I use you for intimacies.”
Be free.
Lynden looked away with embarrassment. “Two people should be able to do what they want without fear of social punishment. It’s nobody’s damn business. God, I’m so pissed off I could set the whole world on fire and dance on the ashes.” Her brother’s words appeared in her mind’s eye and she whispered, “Image. Perception. Those illusions are the two keys to power.”
“Then let us regain power and enjoy the last laugh.” Coal caressed her cheek with a petal and whispered against her lips, “Burn with me.”
Her gaze crashed into his in a volcanic eruption of fury and passion. The lit fuse exploded and a pyroclastic blast rumbled from her grief, the hot, caustic current destroying the indignity others would have her feel. This was their life. Theirs. Nobody owned them.
Be fearless.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I will burn with you.”
Lake Wenatchee, Washington state
Sunday, April 1, 2057
The night wrapped around Lynden in gossamer wings of midnight blue and twinkling stars. The sight lessened her rising panic. Lifting her floor-length skirt, she maneuvered down old, rickety steps attached to her family cottage, nestled in the Cascade Mountains near Lake Wenatchee.
Inhaling a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and shook off the nerves.
The rich scent of evergreens perfumed the air as she traversed the pine needle-covered lawn toward the water edging the property. Strands of white lights illuminated a bridge to a gazebo located in the center of the small pond. It looked just like she remembered from childhood. From the gazebo’s wooden ceiling hung old wrought iron lanterns lit with melted wax votive candles in various shapes and sizes, each one powered by electricity.
Her steps faltered a beat.
Beneath the faint, flickering glow, stood Coal. He faced away from her, hands clasped in front, as he gazed out over the water in a tailored suit saved for black tie charity events. Beside him, Mack waited to officiate their wedding, decked out in his family’s tartan, complete with a black barathea kilt jacket.
Coal still hadn’t seen her. But a soft smile warmed Mack’s face as she approached. Lynden flicked her bottom lip ring in and out of her mouth. She wasn’t having cold feet. Paranoia, however, formed a whirlpool of dizziness in her head. She was getting married. The muscles in her stomach clenched as the stone in her gut churned round and round.
A clandestine wedding on April Fool’s Day, using their fake identities, was the crazy brain child of Mackenzie Ferguson. The layers of ridiculousness and caution ensured a perfect cover against otaku rumors and the law, he reassured. Mack knew the risks—from Hanley, Fillion, and the government—and shrugged them away, declaring with a closing wink that revolutionary stands always came with a price.
The word “price” vibrated through her body and she slammed shut the door to her past. This moment was about her future. About a type of owning that redeemed rather than shamed. “I am yours,” she whispered across the water. “And you are mine.”
Fireworks burst and glittered in her pulse as she floated across the wooden bridge in layers of charcoal colored silk and tulle. Coal’s lips parted and his chest expanded. Dark and luminous, his gaze blazed with both pride and humility. Warmth crept up her neck and face as she tingled with self-awareness, forcing herself to remain steady.
Breathe, she reminded herself.
A gentle breeze skipped off the pond and enchanted her hair and dress. The same source of magic rippled the water and made the lily pads dance with bows and curtsies, as if a real princess walked past.
Lynden resisted the urge to roll her eyes at herself. God, she was such a girl. Secretly she liked it, though. All of it—the dress, makeup, starlight shimmering over the water, the intimate gathering, and the wonder on Coal’s face as she approached.
Her only regret was that Fillion was not here to give her away, even though it was a stupid, demeaning patriarchal tradition. But her brother could never know she and Coal married. It was too dangerous. She fought the guilt and fear of her selfishness with each step.
Perception.
Except that it wasn’t selfish.
Image.
She was tired of living in suspended animation.
Tired of feeling owned and used.
She didn’t exist for the benefit and glory of others.
She wanted to live for herself.
The linden leaf tattoo caught her eye and tears pricked her eyes. She looked up and hunted for familiar constellations. Anything to distract her emotions. Her brother saw her right now. He always saw her. He would want her to be happy, consequences be damned.
Straightening her shoulders, she finished the final few steps and stopped before Coal with a bashful smile.
The charming confidence Coal normally exuded dissipated into shyness as well and he half-whispered in a shaky voice, “Tu es plus belle que toutes les étoiles dans le ciel nocturne. Tellement, que je fais tous les voeux de mon coeur en ton nom.”
She recognized the words from her birthday and looked away. “Still professing your love for the night sky, Mr. Aw—Smyth?”
“No, I lied.” He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth. Taking her hands, he released his lip and flashed her a dimpled smile that promised many things. The kinds of things where she’d forget her name and only remember his. God, that smile was dangerous. He brushed a thumb over the back of her hand and said, “I shall make a full confession later.”
“You lied?”
“More like a poor translation, Mademoiselle.”
Lynden studied their hands and playfully replied, “Well, the honor price is probably too steep at this point.”
“Nevertheless, name your price, My Lady, and I shall endeavor to earn back your good opinion of me.” He dropped his voice even lower and whispered, “Whatever you require of me, I am yours to command.”
Femininity roared through her veins with his words. Even when her freckle-faced and tall, boyish body was reflected back to her in Coal’s eyes.
Mack cleared his throat and quietly asked, “Uh... Are we ready? Because if this continues, I might fall into a diabetic coma.”
The humor moved past both her and Coal as shyness settled between them once more. The sweet atmosphere was almost too much for her, too. Though she was also reveling in it. After a few seconds, Coal nodded permission for Mack to continue. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, his features tensing.
“Shit,” Mack mumbled. “I didn’t think this would be so hard. Dammit.” He rubbed his eyes and released a loud sigh. Stretching his neck and shoulders, like he was preparing to run a race, he exhaled again and began. “Rainbow Leigh and Draken Smyth are two badass, crazy bitches.”
“Mackenzie!”
Coal’s shoulders shook as he suppressed a laugh.
Lynden shot Coal a glare. “Don’t encourage him.”
&nbs
p; Mack maintained a deadpanned expression and continued. “Two badass, crazy bitches in love.”
She deflated with a groan of annoyance. “You forgot to remind me that I was never to hire you to officiate a wedding.”
“You didn’t,” Mack replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “Mr. Smyth hired me.”
Dammit.
“At least you’re not wearing that hideous shirt.” She scanned Mack from top to bottom and back up again. “Green and blue are totally your colors, by the way. Makes your legs look nice.”
“Hell, I thought so, too.” Mack slid Coal a sly glance and struck a pose of so-called manliness. “Behold! Mackenzie Patton Campbell Ferguson the Third.”
“Indeed,” Coal replied, trying hard to appear unimpressed. “A plaid skirt with a purse and ribbons on your socks. Shall I say you look pretty?”
“Don’t mock the brawny highlander men of Clan Ferguson.” Mack’s fierce look of pride melted into a flirty smile as he batted his eyes at Coal. “But, sure, you can say that I’m pretty.”
Loud laughter erupted from Coal and he turned around to contain himself.
“You’re dead, Mackenzie.”
“Patience, Rainbow,” Mack said. “We’re bonding. It’s a special moment when a man calls another man pretty and means it.”
She rolled her eyes and shouted, “Focus!”
“Inside voice, Niji Doragon Ōjo.” Mack tugged on a strand of her hair and winked. “OK. Join hands ... good ... deep breath. Here we go.” The soft smile returned and he began. “Do you Rainbow Leigh take Draken Smyth to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, all the days of your life?”
Lynden studied her and Coal’s hands, grounding her lightheaded thoughts, and whispered, “I do.”
Angling his body toward Coal, Mack asked, “Do you Draken Smyth take Rainbow Leigh to be your lawfully wedded wife, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, all the days of your life?”
“I do.”
“The rings?” Mack knew they wouldn’t have rings. And the property was secure. Wi-Fi and cell reception were spotty at best in the mountains. Still, he insisted that they use their fake names and go through the motions just in case something was bugged. To Lynden he said, “Repeat after me. With this ring, I pledge my troth.”
Lynden raised her eyebrow. “With this ring, I pledge my ... really?”
What in the hell was a “troth”? She shook her head at Mack and bit back a retort. Instead, she trained her thoughts onto Coal. Memories of yesterday, of Coal cradling her beneath his body and caressing her cheek with a sakura petal, re-set the rhythm of her heart. She allowed a smile to flutter across her lips as she fingered the old, tattered black ribbon tied around his wrist.
“With this ring,” she whispered, “I vow that my life will burn for yours, always.”
Coal swallowed and shifted on his feet with a deep breath. Slipping a hand into his pants pocket, he pulled out a silver bracelet featuring tiny, dangling linden leaves. Lynden pressed her fingers to her lips and grinned. For a split second, she peered at Mack in question. He bit down on his tongue ring in reply, offering zero remorse. That damn man had opened his big mouth again. She wanted to be angry with him. But other emotions competed for her attention and won.
Breathe, she reminded herself again.
“With this ring,” Coal whispered intimately, clasping the bracelet around her wrist, “I vow that my life shall burn for yours, always.”
Mack grinned at both her and Coal and proclaimed, “With the power vested in me by the state of Washington, I now pronounce you ... husband and wife.” Softening his voice, he added, “You may kiss the bride.”
What.
Her smile fell. Walls of granite turned her features to stone and shielded her heart.
A bride. She was Coal’s bride.
Holy shit.
Even though she went through all the motions, she hadn’t considered herself a bride until this moment. Refused to, actually.
Shame hit her with violence. All the magic she had embraced this evening vanished, too. In Coal’s world, a bride was revered and celebrated as a symbol of purity and life, a goddess of Spring. Gag. She’d heard all the stories countless times until she wanted to projectile vomit all over the place with the way women were objectified and brainwashed in New Eden. And, yet, heat suffused her neck and face with her own feelings of inadequacy. As if being called a bride was an esteemed honor she had refused to acknowledge until now. Her fingers touched a silver linden leaf.
Thin air thoughts.
Toughen up, Rainbow.
A shadow fell over her face as her groom drew near. Memories of a wedding ring striking her face flashed in her mind. Terrified, she squeezed her eyes closed as hands cupped her face. Millions of insect legs skittered and crawled across her skin and she shuddered with revulsion.
Stop being so dramatic!
You’re making a scene!
Sit down. Be quiet.
Whore.
His lips touched hers and she stiffened. Everything went dark. A nanosecond later, the ground in her mind winked into focus, desolate and empty. Not even shadows appeared. The sound of her emptiness echoed in the silence of her gilded cage. Far in the distance, a sliver of light moved across the barren landscape toward where she stood, followed by more tendrils of light. It was beautiful and she reached out to capture the heat.
Burn with me.
“I love you, my wife,” Coal whispered against her mouth. “You set me on fire.”
Bright and gentle, Coal’s kiss morphed into the morning sun and warmed away the dewed veil of tears blanketing the ground. His kiss deepened—hungry, scorching, all-consuming—and the earth shook beneath her feet. She opened her mouth to scream when a vast, untamed garden broke through the hard soil and bloomed to life. Mesmerized, she pushed open the bars to the cage she had put around her life and stepped out into new territory, eyes wide at the scene that unfolded before her.
Butterflies, born from her loneliness, fluttered from flower to flower. Their wings—once punctured, now whole—shimmered in a brilliant show of colors, as soft, fragile petals continued to unfurl in her wild dark, revealing a beauty she never knew existed. Here, in this sacred place, he walked with her, neither of them ashamed of their nakedness. Lynden breathed in the intoxicating fragrance of bliss, drunk on his acceptance as his love forged new words to reconstruct the shattered mirror in her heart.
Beautiful. Intelligent. Wanted. Essential. Loved.
Free.
The morning light faded to dusk as his kiss slowed.
“Lynden Hansen,” her husband whispered in her ear, “I had professed that you are lovelier than any star in the night sky. So much so, I make all the wishes of my heart in your name.”
She shivered with pleasure. God, she loved this voice. It was a sound of safety and she opened her eyes. A sinful glint sparked in Coal’s dark gaze as he appreciated every nuance of emotion on her face.
Desired. Playful. Treasured. Compassionate. Known.
Fearless.
“Your smoldering gaze is passable, Mr. Awesome,” she whispered. “I guess.”
Coal grinned. Those damn dimples. Trailing her hands over his chest, she claimed his mouth with hers, no longer afraid of the future. And, she swore, the night sky sighed with jealously as he left stardust on her lips.
Good enough.
Author Notes
Hacker Terminology
Anime and Japanese Terminology
Additional Definitions
Translations
Selected Bibliography
Read THE CODE at
www.jesikahsundin.com
Before Leaving
Did you enjoy TRANSITIONS, book two in “The Biodome Chronicles?”
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AUTHO
R NOTES
TRANSITIONS is officially the byproduct of potato chips, French onion dip, way too much coffee (not really, no such thing), and inspiration from my readers. Yep, you!
Over the years, readers have requested stories about Ember, Skylar, Rain, Mack, and Lynden. A handful of readers also begged for a Mack and Fillion love story, even declaring that they’d sell their souls to make it happen.
Ahem. *cough, cough*
This segment in “Author Notes” is interrupted with an important message from its sponsor: No souls were consumed or harmed in the making of TRANSITIONS.
Phew!
However, several souls contributed to its creation.
*Heart Eyes* to Melissa Slager, my editor, writing partner in crime, bestie, and my manuscript Fairy Godmother who, with a flick of her wrist ... er, clickity-clack of her typing fingers ... sprinkles magic on my stories until they transform from rags to riches. There is no sidekick'n. We are equal partners in badassary and goofyism #SugarPacket
I am indebted to my dearest friends, fellow SVEC moms, SFF convention partners, and Girl’s Movie Night peeps: Jennifer Newsom and Katie Kent, who beta read and provided invaluable feedback, and Tracy Campbell, who always reminds me of opportunities when all seems lost. *hugs you*
Penny Sundin, you are amazing. None of my books would have happened without your love and endless support. There are no adequate words to properly thank you for the time you’ve gifted me over the years by caring for my home while I’m off on one writing adventure after another. Love you <3
Jessica Jett, Hannah Miller, and Andra Perju, I dedicate this book to you. Thank you for your social media support, beautiful encouragement, and friendship. Never in a million years did I think readers would one day become my personal friends. *blows kisses*
Transitions Page 31