by Rena Marks
They walked in silence to a small parking area where another uniformed Xeno Sapien waited near a small shuttle. He nodded at them, though they couldn’t see who he was through his darkened helmet, and took off walking through the camps.
Trance dropped her bags into the back of the unit and motioned for her to get into the front seat before he got behind the wheel. The shuttle was open and the breeze rolled through her hair as he drove the short distance to the main gates of Xenia. As their vehicle approached, the gate opened automatically and she saw Trance raise his hand to someone who sat behind the darkened window of the front office. Then the vehicle rambled on to where the residential units were.
“Your appointments for tomorrow have been postponed,” Trance said. He parked the shuttle and they got out. He reached for both bags again, hoisting them over his shoulder as he led the way.
He held his hand over the locking mechanism and then motioned for her to bring her hand up for a scanning also. Bemused, she held her hand still as he covered her hand with his. He was so warm; she wanted nothing else but to flip her hand over and hold onto his for dear life. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t trust someone that much. She couldn’t depend on someone.
The apartment door opened and they entered. She’d been in his kitchen and living area before. As far as apartments went, it wasn’t too bad. Definitely larger than her one room cabin. It had a living area, separate dining room, a comfortable kitchen and a guest bathroom without a cleansing unit.
Then it got tricky.
He showed her the master bedroom, which had two walls of closets, one of which was empty. The bathroom was off the master.
“You can have this closet.” He opened the door and she saw her duffel bag that she’d left here. There was nothing else to say. Now he knew why she’d been stashing clothes everywhere.
Silently, they began hanging her clothing. Neither of them said a word about the one large bed that dwarfed the room.
There was no second bedroom.
And they were both avoiding the issue like an elephant in the room. The king-sized bed.
Chapter Six
WHEN HER STOMACH GROWLED painfully, Trance heard. He couldn’t not hear the rumble it was so loud.
“Come on,” he said. She followed him out the door of the apartment, not even asking where they were going next. Still bemused. Wondering how all this was going to work out. She stopped in front of the mess hall.
“I can’t go in there,” she hissed at him.
One black eyebrow rose. “Why not?”
“It’s food for Xeno Sapiens. Free food. It’s not for me to eat. Someone pays for that, you know.”
“I don’t think anyone’s going to mind if you fill your belly.”
“I mind.”
“Seriously, Leah, you’re hungry. I’m hungry. Let’s just eat tonight and figure out the rest tomorrow.”
“No. I can get a few things from the commissary and have them charge my account. They’ll deduct what I purchase from my pay. I can keep them in your fridge.”
“You’re exhausted. You don’t want to have to cook and clean up tonight.”
“How do you know?” Yes, she was aware she was being argumentative but he’d flipped her world upside down and still didn’t trust her. And she didn’t want to trust him.
“Damn it. Leah. It’s one meal. No one would begrudge you one meal.”
“Oh, good, you two are eating also?” A male voice said. “We’re starved.”
Leah stopped her hissing at Trance to see Shawn and Tempest walking their way.
“Shall we go inside and make the plates and the ladies can get a table?” Shawn asked Trance, and the two disappeared, leaving her standing awkwardly with the beautiful Tempest.
She stared at Leah shrewdly, and then pointed to a table being vacated. Leah went first, used to being ordered. It didn’t dawn on her until she was already in motion. She’d have to break that habit. While they waited for Shawn and Trance, Tempest tried to make small talk.
“Sit across from me. I do not want you staring at Shawn. He is mine.”
“You will be my best friend. I will give you my number.”
“Are you and Trance involved romantically yet?”
Each question was worse than the last. It was a relief when the men returned with two plates each. Trance sat next to her, leaving Shawn to whisper and lightly kiss Tempest’s cheek.
“Having fun?” Trance asked, just like they were still friends from two months ago and could slip right back to where they left off. “I got you a little bit of everything.”
“Not really,” she hissed, determined to let him know of her displeasure.
“We’ll eat fast,” he said. “I’m sure you can deal.”
He changed his mind when Tempest asked them if they planned to sleep together in the same bed. Obviously as uncomfortable as she was, he began to shovel his food into his mouth. If it wasn’t so tragic, Leah might have snickered.
In another life, she might have loved Tempest, the awkward Xeno Sapien woman who’d declared herself her friend. In the span of a few hours she’d managed to insult her, defend her, make her laugh so hard she snorted, and embarrass her beyond belief. And it was after all that fiasco, when she and Trance announced they were finished and were leaving, was when Tempest had told her that as her new friend, she expected Leah to call her. She’d even put Trance’s number into her wrist communicator so she’d never miss a call from Leah.
Bemused, Leah had nodded—not sure what else to do. Fact was, she had no friends. Amy, the woman from the camp, was the closest thing she had to a friend and she’d only talked with her a half a dozen times in the two months she’d been there. It was hard to make friends—because having anyone around her was a good way to get them hurt. Obviously.
Sensing her befuddlement, Trance hurried her from the mess hall and back to their—his—apartment. Once there, the two of them stared at his large bed. The bed Tempest had suggested they share.
“It won’t be so bad,” Trance said. “It’s pretty roomy. If you prefer, we can line the middle with pillows?”
She shook her head. They could be adult about this, that was for sure. “That’s not necessary. But I’m really okay with sleeping on the couch.”
“The couch is uncomfortable. I think we can make this work,” he said.
He used the bathroom first, showering quickly. Then she took a fast shower, having grown used to the community showers in the camps. A button had to be depressed for the rather cool shower spray to start. It was just enough to wet you and then you shivered naked while lathering. Another button-push enabled a rinse off while one prayed it got all the soap. It seemed each time the water was sprayed, it lost heat.
Trance was already in bed when she got out. He smelled delicious, like soap and something undeniably male. Gracelessly, she climbed into the large bed next to him, aware of his eyes on her.
She lay still as death on the pillow and he sighed, tugged his fingers underneath her pillow and pulled her closer to him.
“The bed’s big enough that you don’t need to roll off the edge,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice.
“Thanks,” she whispered, trying not to smile as she stared up at the ceiling.
“I’ll get off work later in the morning,” he said. “I’ll show you around the city?”
“I have a client at one.” She was almost sorry, knowing he was trying to make amends for his behavior earlier. Maybe for his behavior all along. Maybe it was because she was tired, maybe it was because they were banding together after the bout of Tempest, but their underlying friendship was starting to come through and they were falling back into the easygoing pattern they once had.
“Everyone knows I’m your sponsor. How about if I come along?”
“You can do that?”
“Technically, I’m supposed to. But you’ve been working here a while and know all your clients anyway.”
Oh. She wasn’t exactly a free bird here
.
They were both quiet for a few moments.
“Trance?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you not angry with me any longer?”
He waited so long to answer, she was made aware she held her breath. Slowly she released it.
“No. It wasn’t your fault. I was angry because I saw him—your husband. I thought we were friends. I’d never clicked with anyone that easily, so I thought it was genuine. And I couldn’t believe you didn’t tell me you were married.”
“I didn’t know how to,” she whispered. “I hoped to soon be divorced. I wasn’t ready for anyone to ask why.”
“I understand. You’ve been through a lot.”
“It still wasn’t fair of me not to tell you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I promise.”
As easily as that, she felt the beginnings of their friendship connect again.
“Sweet dreams, Leah.”
“Good night, Trance.”
However, it took her a while to fall asleep. Her brain worked a mile a minute. Brock was obviously crazy…but why would he have attacked her in the middle of the camp? There were people around. Witnesses. He had the element of surprise on his side because no one did catch him. He stopped hurting Amy only because he realized she wasn’t her. And normally, he was usually able to contain his anger until they got home. She was missing something. None of this made any sense.
Had there been a line crossed somewhere? Come to think of it—that last beating had occurred on the way home from Xenia. The one that had been so bad she’d been hospitalized for two weeks. The broken ribs. Punctured lung.
It was a brutal beating, even for him. Had he possibly been…trying to kill her? Surely not. Surely he wouldn’t want to serve prison time. But why else would he seek her out—or who he thought to be her—and attack in the camps? Had he really lost his marbles completely?
It had to be. He’d decided to murder her. Of course. He’d always told her if I can’t have you, no one will. And she had the audacity, in his mind, to file for divorce. To leave him.
Next to her, Trance breathed in a steady, regular pattern, without a care in the world. With her mind so much on Brock and this new revelation she’d just had, she hoped she wouldn’t dream. What if she called out in her sleep? She should have known that thinking about it that hard before falling asleep would trigger a dream.
Leah was aware she was dreaming. Therefore, she knew what would happen. It was always the same, this one dream. But this time, Trance was present inside her dream.
Of course, that made sense. She was sleeping next to him in his bed. Naturally she would dream of him.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, as she spread out all of the diaries on the desk before her. Putting them in order.
“Reading his diary. I found it later. After we’d gotten married. There’s been many more since then.”
“And you read it?”
“He wanted me to. I had to read it out loud—in front of him. He was quite proud of it. And I couldn’t cry.”
“Why are you reading it now?”
She shrugged. “I can’t stop. This is how the dream goes. This is how it always goes.”
He waved his arm. “Carry on then. Don’t mind me.”
It was her dream so she could be honest. “I’m glad you’re here. I hate having this dream.”
His voice sounded oddly reassuring. “I’m here for you, Leah.”
She took a deep breath and began to read.
May 12, 2851 Today you wore a white button-up blouse, a black skirt and black boots. Very chic. I knew then you were going to be mine. We signed our contract making me your manager. Today is the biggest day of your life, my love. Today is the day I noticed you.
She stopped for a moment, thinking that one day changed her life forever.
“Go on,” Trance whispered.
May 17, 2851 A button up blouse again, this time in gray. The color makes your cinnamon eyes appear almost red. You’re stunning, my love. A bit flawed, but we’ll work on that together. As your man, I’ll teach you how to look down demurely when a man speaks. As soon as he’s done, you may look up, of course. But this shows your man the proper respect he deserves, to be acknowledged as the first speaker. And one day? I’ll be that man.
“Sometimes,” she said to Trance. “Sometimes I wish I had stumbled upon his diaries before I ever started dating him. It would have saved me so much heartache.” Then she continued to read.
May 30, 2851 You wore a travel suit today. Travel suits are thin, able to withstand DNA scanning and travel x-rays. Standard, required wear in our community. I have never before noticed how sexy the required travel wear is. I watch you and I know it won’t be much longer. Soon I’ll woo you with smooth words, whispered promises. When you’re head over heels in love with me, I’ll kill your parents. Once you’re alone, you’ll be forced to turn to me for everything.
“Holy fuck,” Trance whispered. “What did you just read?”
She knew her eyes were dead when she raised them from the page to look at his handsome face. He was just as gorgeous inside her dream as in real life. “He killed my parents. It was one month after this entry. I never even suspected it was him. Not until the first time I read the journals. I could hardly read them out loud, I was crying so hard. You know the bastard still forced me to read? I swore I’d leave him someday. But it took longer than I expected.”
She continued to read from the entries, sometimes forgetting Trance’s presence. She’d look up every now and then at his gasp of surprise. She was no longer shocked by the diaries. She’d read them many, many times. So many times they were ingrained in her subconscious—obviously—to where she could read them, word for word, in her dreams.
January 10, 2452 You wore the dress we bought you today, choosing it together. Silver-gray, because that color makes your eyes pop. You are absolutely stunning, my love. I was the envy of every man out there. Stunning, but not perfect. And you shouldn’t be. We should all have flaws, because flaws make us more endearing to the ones we love, do they not? However, there’s one flaw I cannot, and will not, abide. Excessive mascara. You have always worn a light touch before—but this time. This time it was hideous.
Before she flipped the page, she looked at Trance to share the story that had missed the logs. “That was the first time he struck me and it was over mascara. He’d instructed me to remove it. I thought he was joking. It was so unreasonable. How could I remove mascara two minutes before we were due at a party without ruining the rest of my hair and makeup? We never did go to the party that night. Of course, by then, we were married. He apologized profusely and I was too embarrassed to tell anyone that my perfect husband had struck me.”
“You couldn’t get away.”
“No. And you’ll see in the entries, he frequently ends with the same phrase. If I can’t have you, no one will. He made sure I knew it with the death of my parents.”
She didn’t remember the rest of the dream, other than reading the endless logs of diary entries. She didn’t remember anything until the warmth of sunshine woke her.
It was morning. A bright, beautiful day.
“Good morning,” Trance murmured softly, lying in bed as if waiting for her to wake.
“Trance.” She gasped, sitting up in bed. God, it was only their second night and her nightmares had started. Did he know? Had she called out?
“Would you like to grab a bite to eat before our day starts?” he asked, stretching.
How curious. Did he just avoid looking directly at her? He was staring up at the ceiling as if there was something displayed on the plain, blank wall. Granted, she’d never woken up with Trance before. It was an awkward situation—for both of them. But she’d never really had him look away from her before. Usually he watched her intensely, especially if he thought no one noticed. She distinctly remembered him staring at her so long she’d felt uncomfortable a couple times. It was like dealing with Brock’s stalker tendenc
ies. But that was probably her own issue. Now, Trance purposely looked away from her, as if deliberately giving her space. He couldn’t know she had a paranoia about being watched. Beaten? Maybe.
“Sure,” she said, only because he’d sparked her curiosity with his odd avoidance. “I guess I’ve already eaten once in the mess hall.”
“No one really minds. You can shower first,” he offered.
“Okay.” She rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom first. She showered quickly, brushed her teeth and hair, then went to tidy up her toiletries.
A lone tube of mascara sat on top of the counter. Remembering the last diary entry, she reached for it deliberately.
Five minutes later, wearing more layers of mascara than she’d ever worn in her life—and all at once—she left the bathroom. She passed him in the hallway and she thought she saw him pause. He looked at her fully and deliberately looked away from her extra-long spider lashes.
He looked away.
That was odd. He’d never looked away from her before.
They ate in the mess hall again, quickly this time. Not buffered by Tempest’s odd social networking. Afterward, Trance walked her back to his apartment and made sure she was able to get inside by scanning her handprint. When the door opened easily, he remained just outside.
“I’ll see you later?” he asked.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I might pick up a few things and we can eat breakfast in tomorrow? If that’s all right?”
“I’d like that,” he said, looking into her eyes for something. His intensity was back.
Her heart chugged a mile a minute. He licked his lips. It almost looked like he wanted to kiss her so she stepped back and broke the moment. Hell, for some reason he was over hating her, but she couldn’t ever get caught up with a man again. No, interest led to dating. Dating led to marriage. And marriage meant pain.