by Kit Rocha
He was holding her, their bodies pressed together. Arousal hummed beneath her skin, and the world continued to spin.
"Lili." Just her name, two tiny syllables, but they rumbled out of his chest and ricocheted through her.
She kept her eyes closed. "I don't want you to help me out of pity. I don't want you to touch me out of pity."
"I'm not. I wouldn't. But I need—" He bit off the words.
"What?" Somehow, she found the courage to lift her head and open her eyes. "What do you need?"
He stared down at her. "To be honest with you. This is a bad time to get involved with me. I can't tell you why, but I need to know you believe it."
It could have felt like a brush-off, but it didn't. They were both too accustomed to navigating the expectations of others to be anything but up front about their boundaries and complications.
She couldn't give him easy. He couldn't promise her forever.
She reached up to touch his face, echoing his earlier gesture by pressing her thumb lightly to his lower lip. "I'm not looking for another keeper. Just…a friend. One who understands this world."
His eyes were dark. Burning. "I can give you that."
The words moved his lips, soft and teasing. Shivering, she rubbed her thumb slowly back and forth. "What can I give you?"
His breath blew across her skin, hot and faster now. He slipped his hand into her hair and gently tilted her head back, baring her throat.
"Jared?"
"Shh." He had leaned in, and the quiet exhalation skated over her throat—raising goose bumps on her arms, tightening her nipples to hard, aching points. Then his mouth, hot and open, grazed the base of her neck where it met her shoulder.
She dragged in a sharp breath and sank her fingers into his hair. It was soft and silky as she urged him closer, holding his lips to her skin even though it was already too much.
"No one's ever touched you like this," he said quietly. "With care. To bring pleasure, not fear."
"No one." She tilted her head back into his hand, trusting him to hold her.
"Feel it." His teeth scraped her flesh. "That's what you can give me."
No small request. She was already dizzy, drunk. She could knock back shot after shot of liquor without blinking, but she had no tolerance built up for this. A few glancing kisses had swept her feet out from under her. She didn't know how much more she could take.
But maybe he did.
She flexed her fingers on his shoulders, reassuring herself. It was okay if her knees wobbled, as long as he was there to hold her up. "All right."
But he straightened, and she shivered at the loss of his heat. "When you're ready."
Lili leaned back against the counter to steady herself. "I'm not sure it's possible to be ready for you."
"Yes, it is." He smiled, just as slowly and easily as before, but there was an undeniable heat there now. "But that's quite the compliment. I'll take it."
She wrinkled her nose, hoping it counteracted the hopeless flush in her cheeks at least a little. "Does this mean I can invite you to go somewhere with me?"
"If you'd like." He reached around her, lifted her glass from the counter, and pressed it into her hand.
"There's a concert in Sector Three. Six's friend is playing. I was thinking…" She shrugged and sipped her wine. "It's not the music I'm used to, but new experiences are good."
"I'd be happy to go with you, Lili."
She believed him, which was the most unbelievable part yet.
Chapter Eight
"Well, it's official." Jared wiped his dusty hands on his pants, which probably cost more than all the tattered and busted furniture the previous owners had left behind. "I've bought a dump."
Not that that was entirely news. He'd been here before, when it was still operational, and it hadn't been much cleaner then. That was part of its branding, you could say—a chance for Eden's not-so-bold residents to feel like they were taking a walk on the wild side, without ever leaving the relative safety of the city walls.
Gia made a face and nudged a busted stool with the toe of one expensive shoe. "It needs work. Or a match and some gasoline."
"How much work is the question." He righted a table and grimaced when it left his hands coated with another layer of grime. "Do I pander to the low-rent fantasy or take it in the opposite direction? Give it a coat of naughty gloss and glamour?"
"Why choose?" Gia lifted her dress out of the dust as she stepped over a broken chair. "Pander, darling. Pander to all their ridiculous fantasies. Give them fake grime over luxurious gloss, and they'll pay double."
"A bit of Sector Four, huh?" It was dangerous, a little too much like hiding in plain sight, though Gia had no way of knowing that. Of course, the sheer audacity of it had the potential to push it over the line from foolhardy to brilliant.
After all, who would guess that the Eden bar owner pretending to be an O'Kane wasn't pretending at all?
'You're running a speakeasy," she replied with a wicked smile. "No need to be subtle. Subtlety is wasted on the ones who will make you rich."
"Truer words." Jared stepped into the main room. The only light shone, feeble and dim, from windows set high in the wall, windows that opened up above ground, at street level. "I need to talk to you."
"Of course." Gia followed him, picking her way meticulously through the trash on the floor. "What's on your mind?"
He couldn't tell her everything, but he could share enough of the truth that mattered. "Dylan thinks I'm making a mistake with this place."
"Doc?" Gia stopped next to him and slipped her hand through his arm. "Of course he does. Eden broke him. You can see it in his eyes."
"That goes without saying, but it's beside the point." He covered her hand with his, enjoying the gentle, capable strength in her fingers. A comforting touch, familiar and soothing. "Is he right? Does this damn place get us all, one way or another?"
"Only if you believe in it. Eladio tried to teach us better." She squeezed his arm. "It's a risk. Flouting the law always is. But we know too many secrets, you and I. Between us, we could humiliate half the Council and discredit a third more."
"I'm not sure if I should be reassured or terrified."
"Reassured, love. If the Council gives you trouble, I can let the good people of Eden know which of their leaders pay me exorbitant sums for the privilege of licking my toes."
It startled a laugh out of him—not because he thought she was joking, but because he knew she wasn't. "You know what? I do feel better now."
"That's the spirit. And, Jared?"
"Yeah?"
"If there's some other reason Doc is worried, you don't have to tell me. It doesn't matter. If you need help, you'll have it, no questions asked."
It was the kind of moment where words weren't enough, so he leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
Gia patted his hand and surveyed the room. "You need a piano in here, now that you have a sweet little blonde to play it."
Oh Christ. "Ace has a big mouth," he muttered.
"That's hardly news, though it's amazing he still has time to make such liberal use of it." Gia quirked a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Was he exaggerating?"
"Have you met him?" Jared hedged. A cleaned-up version of a sector dump wouldn't work for Lili. The dark leather, worn fabrics, and shiny silver looked out of place on her. No, everything would have to be opulent, the kind of grand, extravagant luxury that had pervaded the underground clubs and lounges of the early twentieth century. Polished wood, lustrous satin, low lighting. Tuxedos and heels, cigars and flowers pinned into meticulously curled hair.
And Lili—brilliant, glowing—in the middle of it all.
Gia released his arm with a soft laugh. "Oh, Jared. None of us ever could resist a wide-eyed blonde."
He flashed her a sharp look and surveyed the room. "Maybe I'll shine this place up and pitch it to Scarlet. I could use a good torch singer."
"A better gamble than Tchaikovsky," Gia conceded. "And
maybe I'll borrow your Lili for a few of my parties."
She'd faint, love. The words died, unspoken, on the tip of his tongue. Maybe she wouldn't—and wasn't that a far more dangerous thought? He'd kissed her, after all. She hadn't kissed him back, but she hadn't frozen up or shrank back in terror, either.
The memory tightened in the pit of his stomach. He could imagine all kinds of things now that had eluded him before—the way her breathing would falter as he undressed her, the soft noises she would make, growing louder as her pleasure deepened. The color of her eyes, blue darkened to midnight in the aftermath of too many orgasms to count.
Gia was watching him with a tiny smile, so he shook his head. "You're far too entertained by this, you know that?"
"Of course. I know my own vices. It's allowed, you know—to have a vice or two just for yourself."
"Sure." If you weren't on a mission. If your time was your own.
He'd almost told Lili, that was the craziest part. For some reason, standing there in his kitchen with her kiss lingering on his lips, he'd resented the wall that his secret had put between them. Only thoughts of her safety had kept the words from pouring out, especially after she'd made herself so vulnerable by sharing secrets of her own.
Gia's smile faded as she lifted a hand to his cheek. "Oh, Jared. I shouldn't have teased. Ace made it seem…" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I know his flaws in that regard. I'm sorry."
"Oh Jesus, Gia. I'm not that delicate, am I?"
"Don't make me answer that." She patted his face gently and let her hand fall away. "I'll leave your girl alone."
"She's not—" But the denial would only make things worse. "Thank you."
"Mmm." Gia turned in a circle, her gaze sweeping the room. "Are you looking for investors?"
"Well, that depends."
"On?"
"Theme." He winked at her. "If I go grungy, I can pick up more furniture from the alley out back. But if I go for the glamour…"
"It fits," she said slowly. "I mean, that's what they want. The luxury. Mine get all the thrill they need crossing into the sectors." She walked to the bar and tapped a fingernail on the scarred surface. "You won't need grime, I suppose, when they're drinking under the MPs' noses."
Both ideas had merit, but the decision wasn't his alone to make. "I'll think about it."
"Let me know." Gia glanced up toward the small windows. "What do you think? Since I'm already here, should I scandalize a few ladies by indulging myself with a visit to the spa?"
They'd be talking for weeks, utterly horrified by the fact that Gia had invaded their territory instead of staying out in the sectors, where they could conveniently pretend she didn't exist. "I have a better idea," he said, throwing his arm around her shoulders. "Let's both go."
She laughed. "Oh, the poor little darlings. Do they cluck at me or coo at you? Should we wager?"
"A bottle of O'Kane's finest," he agreed. Afterwards, they could share it, and he might just find the words to explain how Miss Lili Fleming had managed to get under his skin.
Rachel hadn't been lying about Lili's ring. The tight roll of bills she presented to Lili seemed just shy of ridiculous, even after Lili had tucked most of it into the back of her drawer for safekeeping.
What was left was enough to buy her a new wardrobe for a new persona—
No, not for a persona, she corrected herself as she browsed a rack of pre-Flare dresses. This wardrobe wouldn't belong to a perfect wife from Sector Five or a fearless O'Kane. It would belong to Lili, a woman caught between worlds—and unashamed of it.
Trix was staring at her, her head tilted to one side and her nose wrinkled in an expression of deep concentration. "No, none of this is right."
Lili ran her fingers over the lacy skirt of the final dress in the row and shook her head. "It doesn't feel like me. But nothing ever has."
"You need something…" Trix turned and flipped quickly through another crowded rack before emerging with a flowing satin blouse. "Yeah, something like this."
"Oh, that's nice." Rachel grinned. "Very classic."
It was simpler than the clothing she'd owned in Five. Not plainer, just cleaner, with none of the ruffles and bows that had always made her feel wrapped up like a gift no one wanted. "Is there a skirt that matches?" she asked, moving to stand next to Trix. Most of the clothing on this rack wasn't just pre-Flare, it was vintage, undoubtedly scavenged from dozens of wealthy closets.
"No skirt." But Trix was laughing with delight as she pulled another hanger from the rack. "These."
It was a pair of high-waisted pants, wide and fluttery at the bottom, but fitted at the top. She'd never seen anything quite like them, but the elegant lines appealed to her almost as much as imagining her father's expression if she'd dared to show up to dinner in pants.
The tiny shop didn't have a changing room, just a corner blocked off from the rest of the store by a curtain rattling on wooden rings. Lili retreated behind it, doing her best to ignore the fact that a good two inches of daylight stood between the curtain and the edges of the wall.
Anyone could peek in on her. But no one would, not with Rachel and Trix out there flashing their O'Kane tattoos.
It was a rather nice way to shop, all in all.
The corner was too small for a mirror, but the shop owner had affixed one just outside the curtain. It was stained around the edges and broken in one corner, but tall enough for Lili to examine her reflection with growing wonder.
For the first time in a long time, the person staring back at her wasn't a stranger. Oh, she wasn't entirely familiar, either. Her dresses had always made her feel like a doll—a shadow of a girl, too insubstantial to support the yards of lace and flounce—but she'd been used to that.
Now all of the frippery had been cut away, leaving sleek lines and gentle curves, the body she would have grown into sooner without the constant pressure to starve herself.
Not a little girl. Not a doll. She was looking at a woman.
"Oh man, Trix. You were right. Old-school Hollywood, all the way." Rachel smoothed one sleeve and rearranged a curl where it fell across Lili's shoulder. "Girl, you look good."
Lili watched the color flood her cheeks this time, but it wasn't the pink that distracted her. It was her own eyes—bright and excited in a way she'd never seen. Makeup could fake a lot of things, but not this. Not life.
She'd stand out. In a crowd of leather and denim, it would be impossible to hide. But the thought didn't leave her queasy the way it should have.
"I like it," she said quietly, meeting Rachel's gaze in the mirror. "I don't know if it's me, exactly, but I want it to be."
"That's all it takes, isn't it?"
Lili traced a hand over her hip and found herself smiling. "Do you think we can find a dress like this for the concert? Jared's coming with me."
"Here we go." Trix reappeared with a jewel-toned dress of rich, deep blue. She held it up to the front of Lili's body and bit her lip. "It'll have to be taken in at the waist, but I can manage that. This is it, though. Anything else you want will have to be made."
The dress was modest enough in the front, though it would hug her breasts and skim her body so closely that maybe modest wasn't the right word. And then there was the back, which was cut so low most of her spine would be visible.
She loved it. "Can I pull it off?"
Rachel laughed. "Ace'll spend the whole night staring at your back—he can't resist a blank canvas—but you will look fabulous."
Ace's gaze wasn't the one she wanted to attract. It was too easy to imagine Jared's hand sliding over the skin left so brazenly bare, or—God, his mouth—
The memory did odd things to her body. It was awake now, starving, and she couldn't control her own responses. Even now, the silky slide of satin over her skin felt lush, sensual, as if the realization of one kind of pleasure had awakened an unknown world of sensation.
It was tempting to turn her back on it, to find a way to retreat to safety, to caution,
if not numbness. But there were no half-measures in this, no baby steps.
She turned from the mirror with the dress clutched to her body and made her choice. "What do I wear with it?"
"Strappy heels and a smile," Trix teased.
And nothing else, was the unspoken message, scandalous enough to shock a laugh out of her. "I don't know if I can pull that off."
"You made it out of Sector Five." Trix folded the dress over her arm and nodded firmly. "Trust me, that means you can do anything."
She didn't remember coming to Sector Four. Everything about the last few days of her life in Five was blurred by a layer of detached terror, her defense against Logan's rage as it seeped closer and closer to the surface. And then grief, the night he came home and told her that the future of the Fleming family now rested in her hands.
To him, it had been that simple. Trimming inconvenient branches from the Fleming family tree. He'd dug bruises into her cheeks as he held her face and whispered the words against her ear, the last thing she remembered clearly.
Now there's no one left to distract you from your duty. We'll start tonight.
He'd left a guard to watch her while he went to face Dallas O'Kane, and he hadn't come back, because Trix's lover had killed him.
Someday, Lili would have to thank Finn for that.
"We all got out of Sector Five," she replied, shaking free of the memory. Pain, at least, was a familiar emotion now. She knew it, how to feel it and how to contain it. "And I'm glad I came here."
For a moment, Trix just stared at her, a look of understanding shadowing her eyes. Then she jerked her head toward the other side of the cramped shop. "Come on. Shoes."
The jumble of footwear was chaotic. Boots, heels, running shoes with mismatched laces, all in a dizzying array of colors and styles. So many options, and she wondered if the other people browsing the selection even realized how odd it was to be faced with choices every time you turned around.
It was thrilling but intimidating. Lili was grateful for Rachel's unflagging enthusiasm and Trix's instincts as she went straight for a pair of low velvet heels with T-straps. "Thank you both so much for coming with me. I would have been lost on my own."