"Friendly!" Vik bursts out. "These are savage creatures, half-human only in name. There’s no humanity in them. Don’t forget they killed your mother, Jai, so I hope you didn’t let your emotions get in the way."
At his tone Jai bristles.
"I killed it," he says simply.
"You did the right thing." Vik claps his hand on Jai’s back. "If you’d let it go, it would only have come back. The world’s a better place with one less shifter."
The same words Jai had used to reason with himself. So, why is it that Jai does not believe them himself?
Vik makes for the door and is about to step out when they hear a crash in the bedroom.
7
"You have company?" Vik frowns.
Jai’s saved from replying when the door opens and Ariana saunters in with a breezy "Hello!"
She’s taken off the long-sleeved shirt to reveal a thin vest. Her hair’s in disarray as if…as if someone’s run their fingers through it. As if they’d been making out.
He knows then that she’s overheard their conversation and knows Vik is his father and wants to give him that impression too. Jai swears to himself.
He’d told her specifically not to come out. And she’d disobeyed him. All just to rub him up the wrong way. Just to annoy him. To get under his skin. A sizzle of anger and something else licks his nerve endings. Lust. A fierce need to go up to her and shake her up, mess her up even more. To kiss her. And that sends a shock of desire through him. Clamping down on it without questioning why he’s reacting so strongly to her, he turns around. He has every intention of telling her off but already she’s strutting past him. She holds out a hand to his father.
"I’m Ariana West," she says.
Vic’s jaw hardens as he looks down at her. Unmoving. His face as pitiless as the sunrays beating down on the city.
"You’re Jaidon’s father." She draws out his full name and Jai winces.
Vikram doesn’t respond, doesn’t shake her hand. His father is suspicious of her and rightly so.
He’s had women stay over before, of course, he’s just never had to introduce them to his father. Besides, his father has never been good with strangers. This comes from years of regarding everyone and everything with distrust. You never know who’s your enemy.
No, Vik only trusted blood relations. And perhaps that’s why, despite all the differences with his half-brother, he’s chosen to keep Vishal on as the General of the Guardians.
"No doubt you see the resemblance," Vik finally replies, his voice cool.
"So this is where he gets his bad attitude from?" Dropping her arm to her side, she responds, not in the least awed by the older man.
And Jai’s seen grown-up men, toughened soldiers cower under the weight of his father’s stare. At that moment Jai wants to pull her to him and kiss her.
And that confuses him, turns him on even more. Feeling a tug of desire, Jai pushes all thought of her out of his head. It won’t do to let on what he’s feeling. Not when his father is bound to pick up the effect Ariana has on him.
And he’s very aware that the more time his father spends with Ariana the more chance he has of finding out that she’s also illegal. And then Vik wouldn’t hesitate to throw her back into the camp, or worse, on a suicide mission to hunt down the shifters.
Deciding to end this right here, he says, "Ah! Mayor, you were just leaving, weren’t you?" he prompts Vik and, to his relief, Vik takes the hint.
Still frowning, he nevertheless turns to go. "Keep me posted on the progress," Vik commands before striding to the door.
Allowing his muscles to relax, Jai turns and glares at Ariana, letting her have the full blast of his frustration.
Ignoring him, she sweeps past him and to the kitchen. "So is there something to eat or do all you tough soldier types survive on anger?"
Gritting his teeth, he follows her in. Reaching for the painkillers, he swallows one with water from the tap. All in the hope it will drive away the headache that’s hammering at the back of his eyes.
"Are you upset I crept into your vehicle, made it into your house and took you by surprise?" she asks.
"Maybe just a little," he concedes. "How did you do that?"
"Stowaway in your vehicle?" she asks. "That was easy—"
He interrupts her. "No, I mean learn to fight like that with a sword." In his head he’s trying to reconcile the wildling holding up the bloodied sword with the girl who had coyly half-flirted with his dad.
She shuffles her feet and folds her hands over her chest, "I’ve been fighting since I was five. The other girls wanted to wear frilly frocks and play with dolls…me? I was playing football with the boys and learning to fence and ride."
"Ride?" he asks.
If she’s learnt fencing and sword-fighting from a young age, she must come from a well-to-do family. Especially since most people in the West today are struggling to make ends meet.
"Horses," she replies. "We ride horses where I come from. Not wolves."
"Touché." Jai tilts his head, conceding her the point.
Unable to stay still, she walks to the kitchen shelves and begins opening and closing doors.
"What are you looking for?" he asks.
As if in answer her stomach growls. She doesn’t reply, just stands on tiptoe trying to reach one of the upper shelves. Her vest rises to reveal the pale-gold expanse of her stomach. Her skin would be soft to touch. Soft with a thread of strength running below.
He wants to reach out and touch her there. Just where her waist curves at the side, where it dips before flaring out over her hips.
A spark in his lower belly shakes loose. Jai’s eyes travel up, noticing how her ribs stand out, outlined against her skin. Anger flares, but more than that, what takes him by surprise is this need to take care of her.
She’s so skinny, dammit.
Probably hasn’t eaten in days.
And he wants to help her. Wants to keep her here, away from the refugee camp. Away from the shifters. From his father and the council. Here in his house, where he can protect her,
But to do so is the first step against everything he’s sworn to live by, everything he’s learned and trained for since the promise he made to his mother. And that he cannot do.
Jai runs his fingers through his hair, the only outward sign of the thoughts spinning through his head. "Sit down," he says. "I’ll get us something to eat."
She drops back on her heels. When she turns, her forehead is furrowed, "You cook?" she asks.
He smiles grimly at the surprise on her face, then gestures to the table. "Sit, will you? And do you mind first putting your shirt back on?"
He doesn’t look at her as he walks to the cooler in the corner of the kitchen.
"What? Am I distracting you?" she asks, her voice smug.
He doesn’t react, just says, "You may have deceived the mayor with your act but I’m not buying it. So go wash up. And put on some clothes," he adds.
She goes quiet at that.
He wants to turn around and see the play of emotions on her face. Watch her react to his snub.
She’s angry, he’s sure.
Probably swearing to get back at him in some form. Resisting the impulse, he focuses on pulling out a pack of tomatoes (they seem fine), spinach leaves going brown with age, a cucumber (already gone soggy; he drops this into the garbage chute), and cheese slices (still edible).
Finally, after what seems like a long interval, she flounces off.
His muscles going slack with relief. How would she surprise him next?
8
By the time she stalks back in and plops herself into one of the chairs, he’s spooning out the tea leaves into boiling water.
"Not going to poison me, are you?" She smirks when he plonks a cup of steaming chai in front of her.
Then she takes a sip and her eyes all but roll back with delight.
"Oh!" She inhales, taking another gulp.
"Good?" he asks, relishing her enjoym
ent.
Then, grins when she tilts the mug to her lips and drains it without bothering to reply.
A drop escapes her lips. It trails over her chin to pools at the base of her throat.
He wants to lick her skin right there and find out if it tastes as sweet as it looks. Warm, dark, like wildflowers on a moonlit night. Feeling himself harden, he swears to himself, then plops a sandwich in front of her.
She tucks in and is done before he’s even started on his. Silently he slips his own sandwich onto her plate before picking up his own mug of chai.
"That was good," she sighs, leaning back.
He tilts his head and studies her. "When was the last time you ate?" he asks.
"Does it matter?" She cuts the air with her palm.
No, it didn’t. Didn’t matter that she had been helpless, and unprotected at the Jungle.
It was inevitable she be sent back there.
For now, she was here, with him, safe at least for a few days.
"What made you leave your own country and face such a dangerous journey to get here?" he asks, then regrets it instantly. It had to be something extreme that made her leave. And yet he wants to know, wants to understand where she comes from.
He wants to know everything about her, and this curiosity confuses him afresh. Before he can probe that further she says, "No one leaves their own country by choice."
She hesitates, tries to speak, stops. Reaching for her now-empty mug she grips it with both palms as if for support.
But he has to push her. Has to ask, "So why did you leave?"
Not meeting his eyes, she instead fixes them on the opposite wall. "My father was one of the people who dared stand up against the government. He was a writer. A dreamer," she says.
Like him.
And already he doesn’t want to know where her story is headed.
Those who dream see things they can’t quite explain even to themselves. Those who dream pay a price.
And he’s right, for she continues, "They came in the middle of the night, dragged him, shot him in the head. Then, they came for us." She stops, bites her lips. Her voice monotonous, as if reading from a script. She’s seen these images in her head many times. And he’s just asked her to relive them again.
Oblivious of his turmoil, she continues, "My mother had managed to hide Lily in the wardrobe, behind a false wall. The most obvious place to hide someone, of course, but it worked."
She laughs. A broken sound that skitters across his nerve endings. He knows then that the worst is yet to come, and wonders why he even asked the question when he’s not ready to hear her answer. He would have preferred to imagine her among flowers in a garden or walking through lush green woods. But life isn’t pretty. That he knows that already.
"They came for me. One of the soldiers saw me, grabbed me," her hand traces the space on the nape of her neck and Jai feels the heavy hand that must have gripped here there. Hurt her. He winces, feeling the shudder of disbelief that runs through her at what she’d been through.
"I knew what he wanted, could see the lust in his eyes." She continues, her voice flat, dead. "That’s when my mother offered herself in my place."
He wants to reach out and take her hand but knows better than to disturb her now. Let her get it out. Everything that she’s been holding inside over the past few months, through this insane journey of hers, let her push the poison that’s been festering inside. So he doesn’t say a word, just lets her speak.
"They raped her. And made me watch. Then they killed her. And came for me…but. They were called away." She sighs, a light whistle of air.
"I knew they would be back." She gulps, her voice wavering. "And as soon as they left, I took Lily, packed what I could take with me and ran."
She’s still running.
She’d run to him.
Her shoulders shake and she grips the cup even tighter, her fingers clutched around the mug.
This time he reaches out, runs his finger over her knuckles, which are turning white with strain. Just a touch. And she shudders. The surprise, the pain, the slight arousal in her, it’s instantly in his blood. As if it’s been absorbed into his skin. Just like that.
He pulls back, a little shocked at just how aware of her he is.
She’s told him about the most traumatic experience in her life, and he wants to gather her to him. The need to comfort, to give, so strong that he springs to his feet, taking his cup to the sink.
"Get some rest," he suggests, his voice quiet, a hint of anger, thinly veiled, running through it.
He’s angry for what she’s gone through. At his not being able to help her more. At the world for what it has become.
Sensing her shudder of relief at the change of subject he turns to see her walk to the window and peer out.
She stays there for a beat. A pause. Her back to him as if to stem her churning emotions. When she turns around, her face is calmer, if still pale.
"I will," she says. "On, one condition."
"What?" he asks, his voice cautious.
"I get to see a little of the city, even if it means I have to be in disguise, or stay hidden. I haven’t come this far to leave without even finding out what this version of 'Utopia' looks like." Her voice is half-sarcastic, half-serious.
She really does want to see more of the city. She's curious. Does she think this place is as special as people make it out to be? An island of ease in the ocean of uncertainty the world has become?
Perhaps it isn’t a bad idea to take her out, show her the place. So she can see for herself how wrong her perception is. Order is not all it's cut out to be. Sometimes you need chaos to create, to feel alive.
He nods, then jerks his head to the door, just wanting to get her out of the room. Needing time to figure out why he is feeling so unsettled.
When she leaves, he slumps into his chair. Takes a sip of the chai gone cold.
It’s disconcerting how much he’s begun feeling for her in just a few hours. It’s as if she’s walked into his life and filled a gap. One which he never knew even existed. A gap left by his mother’s death. Her energy, her very female presence, has softened the jarring edge his life had taken on since. Something he realizes only now.
Jai hopes he can hold onto this lightness in his soul, the one she brings, for a few days more.
9
A day later
I awake with my adrenaline pumping so strong that my heartbeat roars in my ears like white noise. A dream, that’s what it was.
I’d dreamt I was back at the Jungle. That I’d been kidnapped and taken to the shifters' den, into the heart of the pack. One of them had approached me. He was in his human form, and yet I had never seen anything more animal-like.
Perhaps I even prefer the animal form of the shifters, for at least that’s more honest; then they show their lust and greed to the world. Don’t hide it.
A shudder runs down my spine.
No, that’s not true either. They frighten me, these shifters. Both animal and human; yet neither. Their lines marring, confusing. Almost as confusing as the man in the next room, who can’t decide what to do with me.
And I don’t want to acknowledge the effect he has on me either. That confused stirring which I don’t want to show the world. I don’t want him to see how he affects me. How he tugs on me, pulls on that hunger deep inside me.
Perhaps there isn’t much difference between us. Between me, and the shifters.
A trickle of sweat runs down my back and I pull the borrowed T-shirt away from me. I try to cool my skin. It’s so hot in this city. Always hot. The windows are open, and so is the balcony door. But there’s no breeze. Nothing.
I sit up and heat splashes over me, clogging my pores, sapping every last drop of moisture from me. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Water. I need water.
I jump up and walk towards to the kitchen when I hear low voices coming from the bedroom. Who is he talking to? Before I can stop myself, I’m standing with my ears
pressed to the bedroom door. It’s Jai and…another man.
"It’s the only way out, Jai…Stop being so stubborn. It might be the answer to all our problems." The other man says, his voice serious.
What problems could they have in this, the "most welcoming city on Earth?"
"You know I’m not going to do it, Gilbert." Jai’s voice is insistent. He sounds fed up. As if they have argued about this a few times.
The rustling of paper. They are looking at something. Planning something. But what? A new strike against the shifters? Or, perhaps, how to move the refugees away?
Then the sound of them moving around and Gilbert’s voice raised in anger, "We need to understand how to harness the power of the sword. If the shifters are so fast that even our guns cannot stop them then it’s the only hope we have."
"I will not use the sword." Jai’s voice is quiet, with a hint of the steel I’m coming to expect from him. He’s tough, this man. Intense. Immovable, once he decides on something.
A hard man.
A sexy man.
The thought comes to me unbidden and I push it away, half-swearing to myself. My sister’s life is at stake and all I want to do is sleep with this guy.
Just thinking about it sparks off a slow burn of desire at the base of my belly and my throat goes dry.
Then the other man speaks again and I push the thought aside.
"You need to understand the power of the sword. Work with it. Learn to use it," he says. "When the next tetrad comes around in 2042 – and that’s just three years from now – you need to be ready to control the forces the sword can unleash."
Tetrad – a sequence of four eclipses occurring very close to each other. The last time it had happened was in 2014. Right at the time the tsunamis had been triggered. And now there’s another tetrad coming around? And what does this sword have to do with it?
I press my ear closer to the door, straining to hear more.
Taken (Many Lives Book 2) Page 4