Saven Denial (The Saven Series Book 3)

by Siobhan Davis

  She growls, grinding her teeth hard, and her skin flushes an unflattering shade of red. “Shut. Up.”

  Nail on the head.

  I haul myself upright and slide to the edge of the bed. “That’s why you hate me? Because he chose me over you?” I dangle my legs off the side as I level a smug look her way.

  “As usual, you know nothing.” She rolls her eyes, exhaling loudly.

  “Explain it to me then.” I smile sweetly this time, enjoying this far more than I probably should.

  For the first time, she looks a little unsure. Glancing at the door, she pauses momentarily. “Axton didn’t have a choice,” she admits, as she turns to face me again. “None of the males do. Females outnumber males by three to one on Torc, so the administration matches each male with a female upon birth. They run tests to find the most compatible couplings, and then the boy’s parents choose the most suitable match. And usually that’s it.” She looks down at her hands, her ash blonde hair framing her face.

  “You were matched with him?” I ask, drawing the obvious conclusion.

  She nods her head behind her curtain of hair. “Until you came along and ruined everything!” Her chin jerks up and her nostrils flare. “You have been the bane of my life from the moment I first clapped eyes on you. If it was up to me, I would have left you with Logan. Then Axton would be mine.”

  CHAPTER 6

  For a split second, I consider asking her for help, but I stop myself in time. I can’t trust her. I don’t trust her. She hates my guts, and it may not be for the reasons she has outlined. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” I argue.

  “That doesn’t help. You have still ruined my life.” A bitter look adorns her features and whatever moment we were having has clearly passed. “What I don’t understand is how he could actually genuinely fall for such a sniveling, weak creature like you. I get that he has no choice, but he didn’t have to like you, let alone love you. It’s beyond frustrating. He is the supreme chancellor’s son, and our future leader. He deserves someone like me at his side! Not a stupid human masquerading as more than she is.”

  “Are you done?” Axton asks just as I open my mouth to retaliate. His burly frame looms in the doorframe, patent fury evident on his face. He holds a clear plastic box in his hand.

  Her face remains impassive as she rises gracefully, shooting me one last scathing look. Striding toward the door, she stops as Axton moves aside to allow her pass. Strategically placing her hand on his upper chest, she leans in close. “My offer still stands,” she purrs.

  A look of pure disgust washes over his face. Hastily removing her hand, he eyeballs her as he responds. “And my answer is still no.”

  “Suit yourself.” She falls back, lounging against the doorjamb. “I don’t know why I waste my time trying. You’re as pathetic as she is.” She casts a transient glance my way. “She’ll never love you, you know. She loves him.”

  His whole posture goes rigid. “Leave. Now.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” she says, pushing off the door. “My work here is done.” With a presumptuous toss of her hair, she saunters off.

  Axton shuts the door and walks silently to the bed. Sitting down alongside me, he hands me the box. “You missed dinner. You need to eat.”

  “Thank you,” I say quietly, accepting the offering. I open the lid, extract the silverware, and tuck in. I remain steadfastly focused on the food, uber-conscious of his constant gaze. My hair flutters gently as he brushes it to one side. Soft, warm fingers gently prod the tender flesh at my neck and I flinch, knocking the contents of the box all over myself and the floor.

  “Crap,” I mutter, crouching down to clean up the mess.

  His hand around my waist stalls me. Swallowing nervously, I straighten up and face him.

  His facial expression gives new meaning to the term murderous rage. “She hurt you.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  “I think I’ve probably hurt her more,” I reply truthfully, thinking of the temporary wounded look in her eyes. Axton looks perplexed. “Not physically, I mean … she was your match until I came along?”

  A vein pulses noticeably in his neck. “I wanted to be the one to explain that to you.”

  “She didn’t explain everything. Only that she was matched with you from birth. Why did that change?”

  He bends down and starts picking up the scattered food, dumping it back in the box. I attempt to help but he swats my hands away, so I wait patiently for him to finish. When he has picked up all the errant pieces, he seals the lid and leans across me to place it on the bedside table. A cascade of warmth coats everywhere he brushes, and I squirm uncomfortably. His unerring maleness scares me, even though I know he won’t hurt me.

  Repositioning himself, he twists around, taking my hands confidently in his. My heart races to life, and I silently beg it to stop this foolishness. I hate that his touch seems to be awakening something buried deep inside me. I don’t want to develop any feelings for him. Remembered or not. But I have a part to play, and I seem to be giving the performance of a lifetime if his reactions are any judge. So I calm my thudding pulse and stick with the program.

  I raise my eyes to his and bravely hold his stare. He presses his forehead to mine, and we stay like that for a few minutes. “Sadie, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. How torturous it’s been watching you fall for Logan. I …” He slides back, anguish etched on his face.

  Time to really test my acting skills. Tentatively, I reach over and touch his face with one hand. “I’m sorry.”

  His hand lands over mine. “It’s not your fault. And it’s okay, because you are here now, we are back together, and everything will be as it should.”

  I want to call him out on his self-delusional assessment, but I bite my tongue and redirect the conversation to more neutral territory. “If you were matched with …” I trail off, momentarily searching my brain for the name Griselda had used. “Alinka,” I add, as soon as my photographic memory pitches her name into my mind, “how did I end up being matched with you?”

  He removes his hand, and I drop mine into my lap.

  “My mother is our leader. She can decide to change the rules if she wants. When she saw how well you were progressing, and how close we had become, she reassigned my match from Alinka to you. It’s probably the only thing she’s ever done for me that I honestly welcomed.” He looks down at the floor, and I feel a genuine surge of empathy.

  I clear my throat. “How old were we when she made that decision?”

  “I was fourteen and you were eleven,” he states, lifting his head to look at me.

  “Was Alinka matched with someone else then?”

  Axton shakes his head. “There was no one to reassign her to. Everyone is matched at birth. She was granted entry to the Assassin’s Program, which is a great honor and only offered to those who are unmatched and who demonstrate the right attributes.”

  “Let me guess,” I say, lifting my brows, “Being a prize bitch is requirement number one?”

  His lips tug up at the corner. “Multi-skilled in combat is the primary requirement, but ruthlessness, lack of compassion, and cold-hearted ambition are other sought-after traits, so you are partly right.” A proper smile slides over his mouth, lighting up his whole face.

  My hand shakes as I nervously reach out and lace my fingers in his. His eyes gleam with pleasure. “What offer did she make you?” I inquire, thinking over her parting words.

  “She offered to be my concubine.”

  My eyes widen. “Come again.”

  He chuckles. “Every male can take up to two concubines if they so desire.”

  My face scrunches up. “That’s disgusting.”

  He shrugs. “It’s a personal choice. Plenty of males are happy with their match for life, others periodically take concubines. Some even do it so the single females can avail of a lover.”

  My cheeks turn fire engine red. “How very noble of them,” I jest.

  Superfast, he leans
in and pecks my cheek. Inwardly, I flinch at the intimate gesture. Not because it made me uncomfortable.

  Because I liked it.

  My cheek is all tingly in the spot where his lips brushed my skin. No! I’m screaming at myself in my head, utterly traumatized that the thought, the feeling, should even cross my mind. My skin flares a darker shade of red.

  “You are so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

  I pout-glare, and he laughs. Inside, I’m thinking how I hate the natural amicable atmosphere developing between us.

  “I need to show you something. Let me lock the door first.” He walks to the door in three long-legged strides, flicks the dead bolt, and returns to my side. He removes a small tablet from his back pocket.

  An anxious fluttery feeling floods my chest as he hands it to me. “What is it?”

  His hand hovers over the screen, and the device powers up. My face fills the frame, and I exhale abruptly. Schooling my features into a neutral line, I focus on the recording as it starts up. His arm moves around my back, and I spontaneously lean into him for support.

  The me on the screen clears her throat and casts a throwaway glance over her shoulder.

  “Sadie,” I say, in a muted voice, “if you are watching this and you’re confused, then it means Griselda did what she threatened to do and you don’t remember anything. I’m sorry that happened to you … eh, us … um, me … dammit, this is all so weird.” I scrub a hand over my tense jaw. A quiet voice in the background murmurs something. “Hush up, I’m getting to that part.” A look of amusement dances across my face. “You can trust Ax.” A mischievous glint shimmers in my eyes. “Well, most of the time. When he isn’t being an annoying pain in the ass that is!” I giggle as I’m yanked backward. Axton positions me on his lap, and my arms go willingly around him. He presses a tender kiss to my temple, and I gaze at him in obvious adoration.

  Holy crap.

  Axton pulls me in closer to his side as I continue to gape, shell-shocked, at the recording. I blink several times, but it’s still me staring back.

  “You need to tell her—you—the rest,” Axton says, kissing me briefly on the lips. It’s obvious he meant it as a chaste peck, but I totally take it there, moving my mouth greedily against his.

  I want to look away, but I’m conscious of Axton’s careful observation. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me, and I know he’s totally gauging my reaction to see how much I’m willing to accept. So, I keep my eyes fastened on the screen even though every part of my being repels the images facing me.

  “Babe,” Axton says, trying to break the embrace. “I don’t think you want to go there on screen.”

  “Maybe I do,” I mumble, in between kisses, as my hands snake under his shirt.

  “If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to,” he blurts out breathlessly.

  Please stop. That’s all that’s going through my head, in a repetitive manner, as I beg my past self to put a halt to it.

  I break away, chest heaving and lips heavy and swollen. “Ax is the best kisser in the world,” I say dreamily into the screen. My cheeks inflame as I add another declaration, this time in a lower voice. “The best lover.”

  The tablet slides off my lap onto the floor as I hop up. “No!” My face is a mixture of embarrassment, incredulity, and absolute horror.

  Hurt leaks out of him in waves, and his face pales. So many different emotions contort his features as he grapples to contain his feelings. “You don’t have to look so distraught, so disgusted,” he says, standing up and clasping my wrists. “We love each other. You love me, you do.” His eyes beseech me to believe it, to remember it, to feel it.

  “That might be true, but I can’t believe I would do that with anyone!” Shock ripples through me. “I was only sixteen when I left here! That’s—” I pry his hands off me and move back, putting some distance between us. “That’s so wrong.”

  “Sadie, you don’t understand. You didn’t listen to it all.”

  “I heard enough. Saw enough.” I take another step away from him until my back hits the wall.

  He closes the gap and cages me in with his arms. I look everywhere but at him. “Look at me, baby, please.” I continue avoiding his gaze, totally thrown for a loop. “Please, Sadie. I need to be looking in your eyes when I tell you this.”

  Hesitantly, I tip my head up, and our eyes meet. “We didn’t rush into anything,” he starts explaining. There’s a soothing quality to his voice. “I would never have let that happen. But we knew separation was looming, and neither of us could handle the prospect of being apart. It was your idea, actually,” he says, plopping down on the bed.

  He proffers his hand, and I allow him to pull me alongside him. “What? Tell me.” I ask it, even though I know there’s a good chance I’m not going to like what I hear. I silently coach my heart in preparation.

  He lifts his hand and tracks his fingers over my cheek and across my lips, before cupping my face at the chin. His whole face glistens with love. It makes me uncomfortable as hell. He peers deep into my eyes. “It was your idea to get married in secret.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The world rotates in slow motion as his revelation takes root. I sit ramrod straight, eyes wide and blank, too shocked to even speak. A sudden chill sweeps through me, and my stomach starts up a series of angst-ridden twists. The other version of me continues to talk on the screen, but I don’t hear a word. I’m caged within the torture of my mind. It can’t be true! Surely, I would remember getting married and consummating the relationship, if what he is saying is correct?

  Axton’s heavy breathing is the only sound in the room as my brain wrestles to deal with this latest sordid twist. All I can think about is how I wanted to share those firsts with Logan and how I never knew it was an impossibility because it had already been taken away from me. Knowing we’ve shared this level of intimacy, I can scarcely even look at Axton.

  What the hell do I do now?

  I drop my face into my hands and squeeze my eyes shut. I’m married? I’m his wife? His lover? Does it count that I don’t remember any of it or feel anything for him? That I only want Logan to be that person for me? Do any of those sentiments negate it? My mind churns helplessly as resigned depression sets in.

  “Sadie.” Axton’s tone is choked. “Please say something.”

  Hearing the evident strain, I consider his feelings for the first time. If the situation was reversed and I was in love with someone who didn’t remember—who was in love with someone else—how heartbroken would I feel? Though it’s not my job to console him, a part of me feels like I owe him.

  I slowly lift my head up. “I guess I really loved you then?”

  He winces at my use of the past tense. Recovering quickly, he pushes a stray strand of hair off my face. “I am your everything. As you are to me.” His gaze exudes sincerity and longing. “I know you think Logan is your soul mate,” he adds in a harrowing voice, “but you and I were soul mates long before he came on the scene.” He places his hands on my shoulders as he stares into my eyes. “You and I clicked from the very first moment we met, and we were pretty much inseparable from that point on. When I look back on my life, all I see is you. When I imagine my future, all I want is you in it.” I’m overcome with the intensity of his feelings for me. “You love me. Not him. You just need to remember.”

  “But I don’t,” I whisper.

  “Which is why I think we need to rectify that,” he says, tracing his hand up and down the side of my neck.

  Goose bumps sprout on my arms. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “When your memories were removed, they were stored on a chip and filed away. It’s standard protocol for any memory procedure. You can have them reinstated so you remember everything. That should end your confusion.”

  He’s expecting an affirmative response, but he’s not going to get that from me. My insides writhe in a heady mix of fear, horror, rage, and disdain. I don’t want his mother messing with me again. And I sure as
hell don’t want to remember all the painstaking details of my stolen past. “It’s not that straightforward, Ax.”

  His jaw slackens and he stares at me open-mouthed.

  “What?” I frown.

  “You just called me Ax!”

  Hella. I did. My brow creases as I bite down on my lip. It was instinctual, but my past self had also referred to him by that name. “Well, that’s what I just called you on the recording,” I supply.

  He frowns. “Oh.” His voice resonates with disappointment. “I thought you were remembering.”

  Thing is, I am remembering some stuff. “I am getting some flashbacks,” I admit. “If my memories have been erased, how come I am remembering little snippets?” I ask, in a deliberate tactic to divert the conversation to safer territory.

  He angles his knee, twisting around so he is facing me head on. “Sometimes the memories aren’t completely removed, and traces hide in the inner depths of your mind. Or a memory is so powerful that it never truly erases. Irrespective, I have a feeling that the longer you are around me, the more you will remember how you felt about me. Remember the love we shared.”

  His eyes glow with excitement, and I hate that I’ve given him false hope. He doesn’t get it. Even if I remember him, no one can replace Logan in my heart. I have willingly given it to him, and nothing or no one will change my mind. Logan is all I’ll ever want.

  “Let me kiss you.” A hungry sheen darkens his eyes. “That might trigger a memory.” He leans closer, his hot expectant breath floating over me.

  I jerk back subconsciously, and pain flares across his face. “You’ve got to understand how hard this is for me!” I all but shriek at him.

  “But it doesn’t have to be like this! Retrieve your memories and let me hold you, touch you, and I’m sure it will all come back. I don’t understand why you are still resisting this! And you haven’t just heard it from me,” he says, jumping up and pacing in the small room. “You heard it from your own mouth. Shista, what else is it going to take to convince you?” He claws his hands through his hair in frustration.