by J. D. Dexter
A soft scratching on my mind pulls me from my self-absorption. “What?” I ask, not even bothering to figure out who is trying to contact me mentally.
“Angel-baby. I’m so sorry.” Hunter’s deep voice floods my mind.
My sobs rush from my chest, pouring from my mouth as anguish and humiliation fill me.
“No. Don’t say that. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I never should’ve said those things. I didn’t really mean them,” I cry out to him.
“Can I come in?” I hear actual scratching at the door behind me.
I scoot far enough away that he can slide through the slim opening. I keep my head angled away from him, too ashamed and embarrassed to look at him yet.
Once again, he gives me what I need without my knowing I need it. He just waits for me to compose myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him slide down against the door until his butt hits the floor. Pushing his legs out in front of him, he says nothing while I try to figure out what I’m going to say.
Unable to bear it anymore, I turn to look at him. More tears slide down my cheeks as I meet his red-rimmed eyes.
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for saying those things. I have nothing but respect and love for you for looking out for me. I’m not even actually angry that you stopped me from going after Anixia on my own. You were willing to go with me, even having no idea what could have happened.” The words tumble out of me.
He looks at me, a stillness in his body I’ve not seen before. My heart tries to seize in my chest.
“Remember our first date?” he asks.
“You mean our only date?” I smile wanly. “Yeah, I remember.” I nod at him.
He continues, his expression somber, “I told you that when I feel vulnerable, I try to hold the thing that makes me vulnerable close to me. I need to keep it safe, and to keep it safe, I need to keep it under my control.” He swallows.
“You make me vulnerable, Finley. More vulnerable than I’ve ever felt or been in my entire life. I need you to be safe. You’ve carved out a Finley-shaped piece of my heart, and nothing but you is going to fit there.”
I swallow another sob, stuffing my fist into my mouth to stem more sounds.
“I know I’m not your father or your mother.” He swallows, a sheen of tears in his eyes. “I can’t replace what was taken from you. I can’t do anything but be here for you as you struggle with that loss. And that kills me. It slays me. Here.” He stabs his thumb into his chest.
“I will do anything you ask me to, but I can’t sit by and watch you risk yourself over and over again. That is something I can’t do; not and not tell you to be careful or to take some kind of precaution. You are too precious to me to lose.” A fierce gleam fills his eyes.
“You told me that you tend to push away the things that make you vulnerable. You also told me that I make you vulnerable. I understand that. But if it comes down to a test of wills, you will lose, Finley Marie. I will love you and cherish you until you have no other choice but to be in my life.” His twinkling eyes and cheeky grin melt my heart into a puddle of goo.
“I don’t want you to leave. I didn’t even know I was pushing you away; I swear I didn’t. Brent had to explain it to me. And he didn’t pull any of his punches,” I whisper.
Hunter’s growl rumbles through his deep chest.
“No.” I shake my head at him. “I needed it. I need to know when I’m acting like an asshat douche-canoe. I dish it out to them, they have the same responsibility to dish it out to me.” I sniffle, wiping my nose on the back of my hand. “No one else tells me what I can and can’t do, only my parents did. I never the let the boys get away with it when we were younger, and now they manage me better.” I give him a watery smile.
“They are polite enough to voice their disagreements as requests instead of orders. I don’t want you to have to manage me that way though. You have a higher spot in my heart than they do. We love each other, we’ve saved each other’s lives. You get to tell me what I can and cannot do if you think it will endanger my life. Even if I yell at you for it, I probably don’t mean whatever I’ve just said.”
He slides over and pulls me into his lap. His arms crushing me to him. Our tears make the air between us damp and humid.
“I do love you,” I tell him softly. I kiss his tear-swollen mouth. “Thank you for fighting for me, for wanting to keep me safe, for stopping me from just plunging head-first into these situations. Thank you for fighting me to keep me in your life. I don’t deserve you, but I’m not letting you go either, and I’ll make sure to keep you in my life too.”
“I love you, too, Angel-baby. I’ll do anything in my power to keep you safe, happy, and well. Even if that means making you angry with me.” He kisses me back.
Sitting in the quiet, my heart begins to beat normally again, my stomach no longer feels like I need to hurl. I’m an adult, emotionally capable woman. I need to start acting like it. Desperation and basket-cases not welcome here.
“Why Angel-baby?” I ask him.
His chuckle is felt more than heard. “Right before Brian interrupted us this last time, you moaned ‘Oh angel socks.’” He squeezes me tighter. “Angel-baby sounds better than calling you Socks all the time.”
“I did not say ‘oh angel socks.’” Oh, sweet Bessy, please say I didn’t say that.
His laugh is full of joy once again. “Indeed, you did. You can’t take it back either.”
The heat suffusing my face tells me he’s probably right. Darn my not being accustomed to cursing.
His cool lips brush my heated cheek. “No worries, love. I won’t be telling anyone else the basis of that nickname.”
“I should hope not.”
“Nope. That one’s all mine. And while we’re on the subject of vulnerability and being foiled once again, you said you wanted to talk about that.”
I nod.
“Yes. I want to talk about sex,” I tell him blatantly.
His eyes pop wide, a heated gleam sparking to life in their depths. “I’m all for that.”
“I think we should wait.”
Silence.
“Still with me?”
His swallow is loud in the quiet space between us.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, still with you. Any particular reason for wanting to wait?”
“Mom and I had the sex talk when we went to get Il Vicino’s for lunch the first time you came over.”
“Aren’t you a little old to have that conversation?” he asks with a grim chuckle.
“Indeed. But one thing she said really stuck with me. She said that getting to know you better, without the emotional investment of sex, will help me build a better foundation with you. Since I plan to keep you forever, I want our foundation to be more than the chemical mix of sex and hormones.” Gritting my teeth, I keep my eyes on his.
His dark chocolate eyes watch my face and search my gaze. The weight of his search is heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Your mom and dad were the happiest, longest-running couple I’ve ever met. Considering I met them while you were in my hospital, that says a lot about them.” He rubs a hand over his face. “While I’m not excited about waiting for sex, if you think that will help us have a shot at a relationship even remotely similar to theirs, I’m willing to give it a shot.”
The heaviness sitting on my shoulders floats away. Gosh…this guy. Gets me every time.
Leaning up, I kiss him. He returns the kiss with heat. Right as I’m shifting in his lap to wrap my legs around him, his hands shift to my hips.
“If we’re waiting, this probably isn’t the best idea.” His voice is rough, and slides over my skin like velvet.
Leaning back, I allow some extra space and cooler air to diffuse the heat between us. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Running my hands through my hair, I have to swallow to clear my throat. “My idea. This is probably going to be harder than I thought it would be.”
“You have no idea
,” he says darkly.
I stifle a laugh. “Especially considering I really want to jump your bones practically every time I see you.”
“I’ll need to invest in some good blindfolds. And no more touching. Actually, don’t look at me either, and no breathing because hearing that growl in his voice…wowzers. No smelling him either, he smells too good.” I trail off, talking to myself out loud again.
His rumbling chest breaks into my thoughts. “I had no idea that my breathing was so sexy.”
I growl at him. “You have no idea. Those growls and groans.” I wave at the heat near my face. “Sexy.”
He tips his head back, once again inspecting my ceiling.
Yup, time to get up off the floor and around other people. Even if I don’t really want to, because let’s be honest…gorgeous.
Shuffling back, I rock to my knees and stand up. He grabs my proffered hand and pulls me in against his body. Standing there in the silence, we just hold each other.
“Let’s go see about zapping Drake the Douche’s memory banks into something we can use,” I say.
His laugh follows me out of the room.
10
“Alright, I’m ready to do some brain zapping.” I rub my hands together as I stand in front of Keziry.
She rolls her eyes at me; Brockten just stares. Challenge accepted, my good man. I’ll make that man laugh if it’s my last act on this world.
“I don’t know that you need to zap his brain, but we will let you have your fun in terminology. Only a couple of our most powerful citizens can extract memories from soulless bodies. With your power level, you should be able to do it well. Let us begin,” she says.
We all crowd around the fallen body of Drake. At the rate of falling bodies in my living room, I’m going to need to invest in a freezer…or more sheets at the very least. I push the thought of the mangled bodies of my parents from my mind.
Considering it’s been a couple of hours since he died, I’m really glad that he’s Ankarrahi: no smelly, disgusting fluids leaking from his body, no decomposition at all that I can discern. Nothing. He could be a mannequin for all his lack of life and body processes.
Rubbing my hands together, I step forward.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Brian asks.
“Nope, just eager to dig in his brain.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“Creepy. Please don’t look so excited by that idea,” Brent says.
“Told you guys…sadist. Prosecution’s evidence marked number four hundred and thirty-two,” Josh says.
I stick my tongue out at him. What? Like they wouldn’t be interested in reviving memories of dead men? Pfft, please.
“It is a little creepy, Socks.” Hunter winks at me.
“What happened to Angel-baby?” I ask him.
“Pretty sure angels aren’t sadists.”
“I cannot image that socks are sadists either. Neither name makes sense,” Brockten says. Looking confused, he shakes his head. “Are you ready to begin, Finley?”
I nod my head.
“First you must access your adira,” he says.
“Got it. Next?”
“You’ve readied it already?” The faintest whiff of shock laces his tone.
“She is quite adept in adira handling, Brockten. Move to the next step,” Keziry urges.
He shakes his head again. “Imagine a length of adira that begins in you and ends in Drake’s head. Keep a good hold on the end that remains in you, for this is how you will be able to read his memories. They will transfer along the line of the adira and be absorbed.”
I do as he says. Keeping my eyes open, I concentrate on sending an adira-leash towards Drake’s lifeless body, focusing on his head.
“Okay, got it. Now what?”
“Using your mind, force your adira to find his memories,” he says. The duh once again loud even though it’s unspoken.
Right. “Why would my adira know how to do that? It’s not something I’ve ever done, so I don’t know what it looks, feels, smells, or sounds like. I’m also pretty sure that memories don’t have a taste to them either.”
“Do your best; your adira will know what it is doing.”
Uh huh. I feel the connection as my adira attaches to the fading energy in Drake’s mind. It feels like the expectant silence after the power goes out in a storm—that humming quiet.
“Huh, I found it. I think,” I call out.
“Good. Now concentrate on sending the tiniest of pulses of adira into that connection. You do not want to overload his brain, but you need to wake it up enough to skim through his memories,” Brockten says.
With nothing else to go on, I tap the line of energy running from me to Drake like I’m sending a Morse code message. The only Morse code I know is SOS, so that’s what I go with.
Long, long, long.
Short, short, short.
Long, long, long.
“I’m not seeing anything.”
“Keep sending energy. It could take a higher than expected amount of adira since he soul has been gone for so long now.”
“Okay.”
Long, long, long.
Short, short, sho-
“Oh wow,” I whisper.
“What?” Brockten asks.
“What’s wrong?” All the voices around me erupt in anxiety.
“This is so weird. Cool, but weird.” Drake’s memories flash across my mind in bursts of color and movement. Shouting and quiet murmurs, happiness and abject sorrow.
I was wrong, memories do have a taste: the delightfully heavy taste of butterscotch and caramel, the bitter tang of bile, sweet, sour, tangy, savory. It’s a smorgasbord for my senses.
“Do not get lost in the sensations,” Keziry cautions. “Narrow your focus, try to find out if Drake knew Anixia.”
Once she said the name, the child-like face of my female donor in the form I first saw her is splashed across my mindscape. Innocent features in the first blush of youth combined with fully black eyes devoid of life or caring.
“He’s talking to her. I can see her mouth moving, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.” I try to turn up the mental volume of the silent film.
“Why can’t I hear her?”
“She probably put up a shield. She used them all the time,” Keziry answers.
“Wait, another woman is entering the room. She’s tiny, like maybe four feet tall. Black hair, gold eyes, slender in a Roman-esque gown of bronze,” I call out to the room.
“Khatic,” Keziry says the name like a curse.
“Do you see a man? He would not be tall like your men. He would even be shorter than you. He has pure white hair, green eyes that are rimmed in orange and blue. He typically appears quite muscular with an unlined face,” Brockten explains.
I wait a couple of moments. “No, I don’t think so. Your description didn’t bring any particular memories to the front of Drake’s brain for me to see.”
The picture playing in my mind shifts once again, like a slide through a reel. “Drake’s talking to a person, I can’t quite tell if they are a man or a woman. About my height, light brown hair shaved on the sides, eyes of dark blue, a marking on the shoulder that looks like a…dragon, kind of. The person is saying that Drake needs to find the crescent quickly because time is running out. If the crescent is not found in time, then midnight will reign supreme.”
“Drake is nodding, which is kind of giving me motion sickness. He says that he is working on it, and that the other person needs to mind his/her own business. He knows his job, and he usually does it better than him/her.” I take a deep breath to steady the queasy feeling in my stomach.
The scene shifts again. “Another one is up now. A group of people in dark robes. Could be black or dark blue, maybe green. I can’t see their faces, but everyone is standing around an altar-like thing. Rings of fire are in each corner, an—"
“And a sculpture that looks like red glass stands in the middle,” Keziry finishes my sentence.
/> “Yes. Do you know what this is?”
“Yes. I will explain once you are finished,” she says. She sounds sick to her stomach.
I nod. “I’m still watching this altar memory. Two of the robed people are getting up and moving off to the right side of the room, at least from where Drake is. Okay, they’re back. Crap on a cracker, they’ve got a kid with them. He looks maybe like he’s three or four, I’m not good at calculating kid ages. The little guy is screaming, screeching at the top of his lungs for…sounds like he’s saying dragons…to save him. The robed douche-canoes are dragging him to the altar. Okay, okay, the two robed guys have the kid tied up in what looks like green ribbon. It reflects the light of the fire, but doesn’t look big enough to be able to hold the kid.”
“That is an adira extension,” Brockten answers quietly.
“The kid is being raised up into the air with the green ribbons. They’ve got him hovering over the red glass, kind of looks like ice right now, like a dripping ice sculpture. They’re tipping him over, so he’s facedown over the spike in the middle of the altar.”
“It looks like Drake closed his eyes, I can’t see anything, but I can still hear the little guy screaming. Wait, he’s opened his eyes again. Damn it, I hate Drake so much right now. The kid’s dead, he’s impaled on the spiky sculpture in the middle.” I can feel the tears falling down my cheeks, cool trails through the heat of anger.
“Everyone is still watching this kid on the spike. They look like they’re waiting for something. They’re chanting something, but I have no idea what they’re saying. I can’t understand any of the words. It doesn’t even sound like words, it sounds more like a lyrical shushing noise.” A tiny sliver of my mind begins to drift with that soft song.
“Pull back, Finley. Pull back, now,” Keziry yells. I can feel her warm hands on my arms, the heat of them blazing against my skin.
I cut the length of adira connecting me to Drake. Watching the adira extinguish like a candle on a cake at a birthday party, I turn to look at Keziry. I feel the part of me that had begun drifting snap back into place. Her face is frantic as her jewel-toned eyes search my face.