Sunken Eyes (Cruel and Beautiful World Book 2)

by L. Stoddard Hancock

  Bronson smirked and walked over to him. He reached out and ruffled up the back of his hair a bit. "That's better." He looked over his shoulder at Deryn and said, "What can I say? I like the messy look. It's endearing."

  "You two are hopeless," she said, playing with the door she was still holding open. "Don't you have a reservation you need to make?"

  "Yes, Mother," said Bronson. "Look away for a second."

  She obeyed.

  He took this moment to lean in and kiss Luka, his hand coming up to cup his cheek. "And you're sure you want to do this? I'm really fine with staying in and cooking. Believe it or not, I really do like to cook."

  Luka smiled softly. He took a breath. "We'd better hurry if we're going to make that reservation."

  Bronson followed him to the door, Deryn smiling at both of them as they slipped on their shoes and left the apartment. "Have fun, you two."

  Bronson kissed her cheek as he exited. "You too, cupcake." He winked and she kicked his bum, slamming the door behind him.

  "Xander not back from your Guardian meeting yet?" he asked as he and Luka descended the stairs.

  "No. The president asked him to stay."

  "What for?"

  "I don't know." Luka stopped walking for a moment. When Bronson came up beside him, he said, "No Guardian shit tonight."

  "You're the boss," said Bronson, smiling and taking his hand. "Though I know very little of you, outside of what you do for a living and a mild shoe obsession. Do you have any hobbies?"

  "Painting."

  "Really?"

  "No."

  Bronson looked at him and blinked. "You make jokes! Who knew?"

  The two of them dropped hands as they exited the building, doing their best to chat casually - though a bit awkwardly - as they walked to the restaurant Bronson had chosen for their night out. It was a nice place, though not so nice that it would be odd for two men to simply be dining together.

  They arrived at the restaurant and Luka felt a pang of jealousy when the hostess flirted with Bronson. But when they sat down and Bronson was smiling at him from across the table, any jealousy he felt quickly dissolved.

  Bronson liked him.

  He often forgot that whenever someone else touched Bronson's arm or fumbled their words around him. But it didn't matter how many people were looking at him, because he was only ever focused on Luka. He'd never had that before. With anyone.

  "You alright?" asked Bronson, discretely rubbing his knee under the table.

  Luka smiled - a real genuine smile - and nodded. "Yeah. Fine."

  It was easy to carry on a conversation once food was involved. Bronson had many suggestions, which were really opinions, about what was best to eat there, and Luka told him just to order for the two of them. He didn't know much about fine dining. The majority of his experiences with it were Guardian family dinner parties with set menus. He'd also only ever had one girlfriend and they never went out. Every now and then he would take out a girl he was sleeping with but, even then, he tended to go for the blandest meal on the menu.

  "I never eat fish," admitted Bronson when Luka asked why he hadn't picked the lobster for them since, from what he understood, it was high end. He leaned in and whispered, "Once you've had it outside fresh from the ocean, any fish born and bred in Utopia simply can't compare. Hopefully, in the future, I can cook you some real fish."

  Luka looked hesitant.

  Bronson rolled his eyes. "It's not toxic, Luka. One day I hope you'll realize that, when we're outside where I can feed you some proper fish." He grinned.

  More hesitance. "You really think you're going to get out there again?"

  "Oh, I have no doubt." Bronson paused. "It's funny. I've often thought about what would've become of me and Quigs if Fiona hadn't come back in. We'd probably be in the Resistance, which would actually be handy when this war happens. I couldn't figure out how to use an Element if my life depended on it."

  Luka blinked. "You mean you haven't learned anything from working with your cupcake?"

  Bronson chuckled. "Test dummy, remember? I'm a lover, not a fighter."

  "You need to be both. I can help you learn."

  "I'm not really a gun person."

  "Bronson."

  "Luka."

  Luka sighed and said, "You need to learn. For me."

  Bronson narrowed his eyes. "Oh, hell. You just had to play that damn 'for me' card. Fine. I'll learn how to use your stupid, complicated weapon. With all the moron Guardians around, I'm surprised more people don't blow themselves up."

  "It's not complicated."

  "There are multiple buttons, Luka, and you have to make sure you press the right one in the right moment or BOOM! You just blew up your comrade or, worse, yourself."

  Luka smirked. "Muscle memory. You don't learn with active buttons."

  Bronson smirked back. "I didn't know they could be deactivated."

  "There's a safety switch."

  The two of them took a moment just smiling across the table at each other.

  When Luka started to feel uncomfortable from all the eye contact, he cleared his throat, leaned in and quietly said, "So I've been wondering, how is it that you and Quigley avoided being recruited?"

  "You mean kidnapped," corrected Bronson. "And our village was farther."

  Luka cocked an eyebrow. "Farther?"

  "Towards the beach. And the good seafood. It was called Driftwood." That smirk was back, and the brightness of it was enough to make Luka melt. "By the time Guardians came for us we'd already received word from other villages, so everyone under the age of twenty or so was hidden. Our parents - well, not mine, but Quigley's and the others - told the Guardians there were no children in their village, something about all of them hating the rotten things, so they left."

  Luka leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  "Disappointed we didn't get the chance to meet sooner?"

  He gave a soft shrug. "I don't think you would've liked me very much back then. Teenage Luka was even more of an ass than twenty-something Luka."

  "Twenty-three!" Bronson said proudly, picking up his glass of whiskey after the waitress, who was eyeing him, put it down. He didn't even notice. "Twenty-four in two months and ten days." He put down his glass. "I like it when you smile."

  Luka pulled back his smile. He hadn't even realized he was doing it.

  "Now, now, Luka. Put it back on. You smile so little but you're just such a cute little cherub." Bronson reached across the table and tapped his cheek.

  Luka narrowed his eyes. "Cherub?"

  "So does that mean none of the people I date, real or fake, like my nicknames?"

  Luka smiled again. Then he pulled it back. Damn.

  "You're too cute."

  Their first course came shortly after, followed by their dinner. Bronson was very passionate about how Luka should eat his meal. When Luka joked about just swirling it all together and eating it as one glob Bronson nearly had a heart attack.

  While their date wasn't without it's momentary awkward pauses, it wasn't nearly as bad as Luka was expecting. He'd often questioned if perhaps the only reason he liked Bronson was because of all the attention he received from someone so highly desired, but that really wasn't it. He just liked him. Because he made him smile in a world that held such little joy. While he enjoyed going out and drinking with Xander, they rarely ever laughed together. But whenever he was around Bronson he laughed a lot.

  After dessert, which Bronson graciously let Luka pick for himself, the two of them went to a nearby bar for drinks. A table of women kept looking at them, trying to get their attention, but while Luka noticed them, he found that he had no interest in even contemplating whether any of them were attractive or not, and Bronson didn't notice them at all.

  When they were each two whiskies in, they left the bar for a nearby alley to smoke a cigarette.

  "Have you ever shotgunned anyone?" asked Bronson as he took a drag.

  "Don't think so. What is it?
"

  "I'll show you."

  He inhaled deeply and took Luka's face in his hands, kissing him hard and blowing the smoke into his open mouth. When they came apart, Luka blew what smoke remained into the cold, damp air. They smiled at each other.

  "And now you know," said Bronson. "It actually works better with something stronger than a cigarette, but really I was just looking for an excuse to kiss you."

  An then Bronson went in again, pressing Luka against the nearby wall as he ran his hands through the short but messy hair. He could feel Luka's body tremble beneath his, his arms shaking as they wrapped around him. It was several minutes before Luka fully sunk into it, his hands gripping Bronson's hips tightly as the other man pressed his body against his, kissing him with more fervor than anyone ever had before.

  When Bronson finally pulled away, he let out a deep sigh against Luka's cheek, simultaneously warming him and sending chills down his spine.

  "God, I like you," said Bronson, kissing his jaw. "I like how cute you are." Then his cheek. "And that you taste like whiskey and cigarettes."

  "So you like that I taste like you?"

  Bronson chuckled softly. "It tastes much better on your tongue." He ran his up Luka's lips. When Luka crinkled his nose, Bronson chuckled again and pressed their foreheads together, staring into the other man's dark eyes. "Your eyes have some green flecks in them. I like that, too."

  Luka tried to smile, but his dark eyes with green flecks quickly filled with sadness. "I like you, too."

  "And why do you look so bummed about that?"

  "Because if my father ever finds out about this, that I'm spending my time with someone other than a marriageable women capable of producing an heir, he wouldn't hesitate to have you killed."

  "Slight mood killer," said Bronson, though his grip on Luka didn't waiver.

  "I'm serious, Bronson. My girlfriend Helena, the one I told you about, she ..." Luka gulped. "My father's the one who assigned her to the mission she died during. It was a suicide mission. He knew it was. Her family lived in Outer City and she only ever became a guard to support them. They died of 'toxic poisoning' shortly after. That's why I haven't dated anyone ... not since ..." He paused and took a breath. "I like you more than I liked her, I know I do, and her death ... it broke me."

  Bronson's smile had faded but his eyes were still on Luka's. He took a deep breath and kissed him softly. "Would you believe me if I said you were worth the risk?"

  "No."

  His smile returned. "I didn't think so." Then he slowly breathed into his mouth, "But you are," and kissed him hard.

  The two of them stayed in the alley, glued to each other until the sound of the bustling street reminded them that curfew was approaching. They walked back to their apartment building side by side, Bronson having to fight the urge to grab Luka's hand.

  It wasn't long before they were home and standing outside Bronson's door, glued to each other once more.

  "Curfew's coming," said Bronson, putting a hold on their kissing.

  Luka opened his eyes and gazed at him hungrily.

  "Quigley's over at his ex's tonight. Do you want to stay over?"

  Luka gulped. Of course he and Bronson had been staying together almost every night for nearly a week now, but he understood the implication in Bronson's voice. Without another thought, he found himself nodding.

  "Are you sure?" asked Bronson, stroking his cheek.

  Luka nodded again. "I've never been more sure of anything."

  Bronson smiled and kissed him again. He fumbled with his free hand until he found the door handle, pushing it open and dragging Luka into his apartment with him. Luka slammed the door behind them.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After Xander left the president he fell into a daze. He knew he took the man's car to Middle City's gate, but he didn't remember much after that. Presently, he was sitting on the ground in an alley. It must have been raining at one point because his clothes were damp, and somehow he had ended up with the small radio he had confiscated from Sable Bai in his hand. He'd been keeping it at Del's but had no recollection of going there.

  Everything he had ever believed was a lie.

  The air outside was breathable. It had been breathable for a long time. Long enough for his mother to have seen the beach, to have felt the breeze on her face and the sand between her toes. To discover whether the water was cold or warm.

  A tear fell down Xander's cheek.

  A part of him felt like he should really do it. Keep playing the part and take over for President Saevus. Then, maybe, he could change things. Tell Utopians the truth about the air they breathed in every day and let them decide what to do with their own lives. Remain secure in their bubble, never seeing the world, never really living, or to venture outside and help rediscover what and who was out there. But another part, the bigger and more selfish part, wanted to run. Run outside with Deryn and experience the world together.

  Without thinking, Xander twisted the knob that turned on the radio. Static. He switched to another channel. Static. Then another. Static. Then -

  "- room with the telecommunication system should always be your starting point."

  "Really, Talon? Always? Why always? There's nowhere else for us to go around there."

  "The old notes we found clearly state that there are several hidden passageways where -"

  "Talon Leon," said Xander, pressing a button on the side.

  Silence. With a little bit of static.

  "Who -"

  "This is Xander Ruby." Only now did he realize that this was what he'd wanted. To speak to Talon. That was why he'd grabbed the radio from Del's. It had to be. "And I want to talk to you alone."

  More silence. But there was no click, and Xander knew there would be a click if someone went off the channel. How did he know that? Del must have told him when he grabbed it but he truly couldn't remember.

  "I know you're still there. Get rid of the other person. I would like to discuss the thirty-one lashes I received because, for some reason, the Resistance chose to target me specifically." A pause. "Dakota Triggs saw her. He told me. She told me. I could properly identify the disguise she was wearing that day. Isn't it time you sat down and listened to me?"

  "Talon, I'm getting off," said the other voice, which Xander now recognized as Nita. "But I'm coming back on in five minutes, Ruby. That's all you get, so make it count."

  Click.

  "Sounds like it's just you and me," said Xander.

  Silence

  "Why do you keep toying with us, Ruby?"

  Xander frowned. "That was never my intention. I thought telling your stupid friend that she was alive would give you peace of mind. But, apparently, it only made you more enraged."

  "If you know where she is then why haven't you returned her to us yet?"

  "Easier said than done. While I may be able to walk right out the front door, I can't exactly bring a fugitive with me."

  Another pause.

  "I don't trust you, Ruby."

  "Clearly."

  "There could be other ways you knew that information about her. Maybe she has escaped, but you already found her and are using the information you witnessed to manipulate us."

  "Maybe I am. But I'm not."

  This pause was a little longer.

  "Oh, great and wise Talon Leon, please, tell me what I can do to earn the trust I so desperately desire?"

  "Stop being a smartass, for one." Talon sighed through the line. "Meet me tomorrow in Deryn and Dakota's place. If you really have her trust then you can ask her where that is."

  "That's all fine and dandy, but I wasn't joking about the thirty-one lashes. I'm in no condition to travel outside."

  "In one week then. Noon. I'll make sure Dax isn't there and you make sure to either come alone or with Deryn."

  "And will you be alone?"

  "Of course not. I'm not an idiot."

  "No, you just work with them."

  Click.

  "Lo
oks like our five minutes are up. I'll see you in one week, Talon Leon."

  Xander clicked off before Talon could respond.

  And then he was just sitting in a dirty alley again. Alone.

  He sighed and checked the time on his wristband. A hovering clock told him he had a half hour until curfew. It was a struggle to stand but, somehow, he managed it. A quick glance out of the alley and into the street let him know that he was in the Shopping District, mere blocks from Del's hideout. He wobbled to the nearest tram stop - his back really hurting after sitting with it pressed against a wall - and took the tram home.

  When he stepped off, he struggled to walk the last few blocks to his apartment, but was goaded by the approaching curfew. He arrived, unlocked the doors and stepped inside, nearly collapsing when he reached the stairs. But the urgent sound of approaching footsteps motivated him to stand. He used the railing to get to the second floor, where he was met by a worried looking Deryn.

  Staring up at her, he found her familiar green eyes and, suddenly, everything he had just learned came rushing back to him. His whole existence was a lie. Guardians were meant to be protectors of its citizens, but all this time they'd been protecting them from something that didn't exist.

  "Xander ..."

  Hearing his name on her lips, knowing that she lost so many years of her life - in quarantine, in guard training, as a slave - all because President Saevus wanted to protect the lie, Xander couldn't stop himself. He burst into tears, thankful that her arms were there for him to collapse into.

  "I'm sorry," he said over and over again with no further explanation, and she didn't ask for one.

  When the alarm went off, signaling the start of the curfew, Deryn helped him stand and practically carried him up the stairs. They made it inside mere seconds before midnight.

  Deryn managed to get his weak body to the bedroom where she undressed him, pausing momentarily when she found the small radio in his coat pocket but putting it aside for now.

  Her radio was presently switched on, Talon and Dakota speaking at the top of the hour, like they always did.

  "Deryn, I love you. I'll be waiting for you for as long as it takes, at our -"