“Babe, you’ve got to stop this. I mean it.”
“Stop what?” I fall back on my bed, rubbing my forehead. “Everything’s fine.”
“They’re only friends. I swear to you.”
“I’ve no clue who you’re talking about, but good on them.” Bloody well hope her father’s not listening.
“I’m out of town,” she says, as if reading my mind. “About to make my next flight.”
“He asked me to be with her,” I blurt.
“Eh? Don’t know anything about that. But it’s not happening. Believe me.”
She sounds certain, but I refuse to hope. “Was there a bond when you saw them?” I can’t believe I’m asking. My chest shakes when I exhale.
“No relationship bonds,” Marna says. Then, because she can’t help herself, she rushes on. “Perhaps a slight attraction, but you know how fickle that is. Nothing to worry about.”
I grunt.
“I mean it! Be careful, you. And chin up.”
I grunt again and she sighs before hanging up.
They’re only friends. I swear to you.
A bit of the dark cloud I’ve been living under lightens.
I haven’t truly worked in four months, since the party in New York. It’s been brutal restarting my sensual fast. If this is what Kopano feels like all the time, I feel sorry for him. And I hate him even more for being so calm all the damn time, making it seem easy.
Every interaction is difficult for me. In my muddled mind, a simple “How are you today?” turns into a purred “How do you want it, baby?”
But still, the only person I want in my bed is Anna Whitt. And that will never happen. Hence, anger and frustration.
These sour feelings are compounded when Father rings me on February 13, saying I’m needed in Atlanta the very next day. He gives no details, but my blood runs cold. Working in Atlanta can mean only one thing: Marissa. I suppose I should consider myself lucky this is the first time he’s called me to Georgia in the fourteen months I’ve lived here. Still . . . it’s one call too many.
Then one tiny spark of light fills my mind. I’ll be close to Anna. So very close.
I can’t see her—I’ve been strong, staying away all this time, and I can’t ruin my efforts now. And I don’t need Belial tracking me down to make good on his threats. However, being so near to her just might give me the fix I need, which goes to prove just how pathetic I’ve become.
It’s not until I’m breathing frozen Georgia air and see the sedan waiting for me outside the airport that I allow myself to think on my purpose for being here. I half expect exhilaration to hit me at the prospect of being physical with a girl again, but it never comes. I don’t want this. I ruined my first-ever streak of goodness in October, and I’ve been an angry shell of myself ever since.
I feel ill the entire way to Father’s house. Over and over I stretch my hands open and close them into tight fists.
Do I dare refuse him about a niece of Marissa’s again? What if it’s another child? How far will I go to stay alive?
When I enter the house I find Father and Marissa having tea. They both glance at me, and then continue talking business. In a chair beside them sits a tall girl with her hair pulled back. She looks around sixteen or seventeen, thankfully no younger. Father and Marissa are speaking in French, which I understand, but the girl likely doesn’t. I don’t listen because I don’t care to hear whatever they’re discussing. I stand in the doorway of the posh sitting area, grinding my teeth as they murmur. I stare at an ugly, abstract painting on the wall. I can feel the girl watching me.
When they finish, Marissa turns to me in her chair. “Kaidan.” I force myself to look at her. “This is my newest niece, Iva. I am hoping you can keep her company today.”
Marissa reaches over and pets the girl’s head. Iva smiles at her shyly, and then at me, which makes me grind my teeth even harder. The girl has no idea what she’s in for. I force a nod and my mouth goes dry as I search for a way out of this. I devise a quick plan, though it’s weak.
“I’ve heard there’s a rave in the city this evening,” I say, my heart thundering. “Thought I’d try to kill two birds with one stone. May I take Iva out with me this afternoon, and then drop her back at Marissa’s on my way to the party?”
Shite. I didn’t think this through. They’re going to ask me where I’ll take her. Lookout Point, perhaps? Father turns to Marissa and she shrugs, flinging her waist-long black hair from her shoulder and clicking her long fingernails together. Blast, that sound. I steel myself against a shudder.
“Makes no difference to me,” Marissa says, reaching out to stroke the girl’s cheek, “as long as the job is done and she makes it home to me safely. But keep her out of public.” Marissa eyes me and says in French, “Teach her all the ways to pleasure a man. No need to keep this one innocent.”
“Oui.” I nod tightly and try not to look relieved.
“You may take the BMW.” Father tosses me the keys, smiling devilishly at Marissa, his mind otherwise occupied.
I look to Iva and jerk my head toward the door. The girl is quick to follow.
Aside from the young girl last year, I’ve never left a niece untrained before. This is the first time I’ve even considered it. I start the car and catch sight of the date on the dash. Valentine’s Day. How apropos.
I drive in silence, tapping the wheel in nervous thought as the girl sits there with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her threadbare sweater is no match for the winter air. I crank the heat up.
When we’re well out of the five-mile zone I take a deep breath and huff it back out.
“You speak English?”
“Yes,” she replies in a heavily accented voice.
“Do you know why you’ve been brought to America?”
“Oh, yes. My brother tells me. I am to be married to handsome, wealthy man who will care for me.”
I swallow. I usually have my guard up with the nieces. I keep myself numb and don’t allow any thoughts in. But it’s been too long, and my mind’s been infected. I cannot ignore this girl’s words. They seep into me.
Iva asks timidly, “Are you to be my husband?”
I shoot a glance in her direction and find her scanning my face with hope. I look back at the road and stare straight ahead as I speak the words that will shatter that hope into a million cutting shards. For once, I will tell one of Marissa’s nieces the full truth without trying to sugarcoat it, downplay it, or glorify it in any way.
“Iva . . . I’m very sorry, but there is no husband. Your brother lied to you. He sold you. You’re a slave now, and Madame Marissa is your master.”
“I . . . What do you say?” Her voice shakes. I’m willing to bet she came from an extremely poor family. If her brother was the head of her household, her parents most likely died from illnesses because they didn’t have the money for treatment. I’d seen this before, with too many nieces. Her brother probably squandered their small pittance of funds on drugs or alcohol. She’s begun to tremble next to me.
I drive us to a state park, away from prying eyes and ears, surrounded by trees.
Iva’s chest heaves with quick, frantic breaths. This is not uncommon. I need to calm her. I stop the car and turn in my seat.
“Please, sir,” she says. “I don’t understand!”
I’m filled with dread as I explain Iva’s new world to her. I tell her what she will be expected to do, and what will happen if she doesn’t. I make it clear that if she utters a single word of what I’ve told her, I will be killed.
“Why do you tell me this?” she asks, hugging herself around the middle.
I shake my head, staring off. “I want you to know the truth. I’m very sorry.”
“You work for them, yes?”
“Not by choice. I’m kind of like you, Iva. I do as I’m told or I die.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever thought to make the comparison.
It’s an excruciating afternoon in the car with the
girl—me speaking calmly, her near hysterics. I answer all of her questions. I make it clear what is at stake for both of us.
“Are you a virgin?” I ask. Her eyes dart to the floor and she hangs her head—that’s a no. “You don’t need to be ashamed. I’m trying to see how much you know. I’m not going to do anything to you, but if you have questions . . . about men . . .”
She shakes her head frantically.
“We both have to pretend I’ve shown you what to do with these men, Iva. Do you understand that? We will both be punished if they find out we did nothing but talk today.”
She jerks her chin up and down as tears stream from her eyes. “I know what to do,” she says in a thick voice. “I don’t want to go to that woman’s house! Don’t make me go. Please!”
She grasps my shirt in her thin hands and cries out. Nieces and conquests have cried in my presence more times than I can count, and I never reached out to comfort them. Never. Nieces must learn to self-comfort, and conquests must not be led on.
But that was before. Now, without hesitation, I pull Iva to me. She’s far too thin. I put an arm around her as she cries into my chest.
“Please save me, sir, please,” she sobs. I hold her tighter, swallowing hard.
I know better than to make promises I can’t keep, but I dare to say, “I will try. I swear it. . . .”
Father knows people, and so does Marissa. They have ties to all areas of law enforcement—dirty cops and officials who’ve been bought off. If I try to uncover this operation, to expose it to authorities, I’ll be killed. For now, I am powerless, and I’m at the mercy of Iva to keep my secret. But I swear to myself at that moment . . . I will be watching; watching and waiting for a time when I can expose Marissa and her abomination of a business.
My shirt is still damp with Iva’s tears when I leave her at Marissa’s, and I am hollow.
I’m feeling reckless after the encounter with Iva. It’s too late to go back to being safe. There’s no way to trek away from the edge of the choices I’ve made. I will forever be on this precipice I’ve climbed, staring over into the abyss of hell and waiting to be found out and shoved off.
It’s only a matter of time. A certain peace comes with this knowledge.
It’s that peace, paired with today’s recklessness, that sends me toward Anna’s town.
As I get closer, a light snow begins to fall. I push my hearing toward her apartment. I hear movement inside and my heart shoots into high gear.
This is foolish. I’m a fool. I shouldn’t be here, but I can’t stop now. My forward momentum is too fast. I’m parking and jumping out, searching around me. My quick breaths make clouds in the air as I jog up the steps to her door.
I listen as the person inside goes still, then tiptoes to the door.
“Who is it?” Patti asks. Her strong voice lifts me up and I smile.
“It’s Kaidan, ma’am.”
The door swings open and her eyes are wide, red hair wild. Excitement and love burst from her aura and she throws her arms around my midsection. Holy shit, I’m getting choked up. I hold her tightly, swallowing and blinking away the emotion. I won’t cry, but damn, this woman is shoveling something warm and golden into my hollow places. Just like when I’m with Anna, I can’t help but wonder how someone so good can care for someone like me.
She pulls back and grabs my face to look at me, then hugs me once more and releases. “Anna’s not here. She went for a run, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon. It’s too cold out there, the crazy girl!” She pats down her wavy hair, smiling. “Can I get you some tea?”
Disappointment tugs at my mood, because I should not linger.
“I’m sorry, miss. I’d love to, but I can’t stay.”
“I understand,” she whispers. “But she’ll be so upset she missed you.”
Will she? This sends more golden stuff pouring into me, though the foolishness of my actions is starting to splinter through my reckless peace now. I really shouldn’t be here.
Patti squeezes my shoulders as I bend to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and go. Her eyes are filled with moisture when I leave.
Nervousness invades my system as I walk quickly to the BMW.
Stupid, stupid, stupid . . .
I reach up and yank off my knitted cap to run my hand roughly through my hair, which I haven’t cut in the fourteen months since I moved. It waves over my ears as I pull the cap back on. I’m at the BMW now, opening the door. As disappointed as I am, I know it’s for the best that Anna doesn’t see me. I’ve worked so hard to—
I turn abruptly as something moves in my peripheral vision. I stand there and stare across the parking lot. From her light blue sneakers to her black yoga bottoms that fit every curve—bloody hell—to the thin jumper that can’t possibly be warm enough. She’s on the other side of the lot, her back to me. She stares up at the snow, oblivious to her surroundings. I want to shake her and yell, “I could have been a Duke or an axe murderer and you’d have never noticed me!”
But all I can do is stare. And then her name slips past my lips.
She freezes in front of her apartment stairwell and her head snaps up. Her cheeks, which were pink, go red as she stares back at me.
“Hi,” she whispers, and it’s so simple, so sweet, so Anna.
“Hi, yourself.”
I should leave. I shouldn’t have called her name. I shouldn’t be here. I know all of that, and yet, I can’t move.
“I hate Valentine’s Day,” she says.
My heart squeezes at the sound of sadness in her voice, but I grin at her blunt honesty. “Yeah, it’s shite.”
I want to tell her I’m fairly certain my father created this poor excuse for a holiday as a way to promote disappointment among lovers, but I don’t want to mention him.
She rewards me with a small smile, then falls serious. “Is everything okay?”
No. No, everything is not okay. Everything has been awful. But right now, in this moment, it feels perfect.
“I just needed to see that you’re well. And it seems you are.”
I want to go to her so badly that I grip the car door to keep from running. As we stand there, refusing to look away, it’s as if each of the past fourteen months is stripped away, one by one, and we’re back in that New York alley kissing. Any progress I’ve made to separate us is ruined. I know it, and she knows it, because she’s moving toward me, and she’s mirroring the need I feel. She’s stepping off the pavement and walking my way.
That’s right, little Ann.
I’m finally going to touch her again. Then I’m going to get to the bottom of what’s going on with this “traveling” business. I’ll worry about the consequences later. Right now, Anna is mine.
I move to shut the door and go to her when I feel the itch of a tingle across my neck. My eyes flash to the gray winter sky and I’m blasted with a sight I recognize well.
Two whisperers.
“Fuck,” I whisper. I step back, and it kills me. Anna sees them and rushes between two cars, fear in her eyes. “Don’t try to follow me,” I tell her, because it’s just the kind of thing she’d do. “I’m going to the airport.” She nods her understanding that I’m not in town to stay, and her chin trembles.
My skin turns to ice in the cold air as I move to climb back into the car, leaving as quickly as I can, so as not to endanger her by being seen together.
That is why I cannot seek out Anna. Not even for a moment.
When I’m well enough away, I smack the steering wheel with my palms. I shout every obscenity I can at the top of my lungs. I rip my hat off and throw it on the floor.
We will never be safe. She can never be mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rage
“The secret side of me I never let you see
I keep it caged but I can’t control it, so stay away from me.”
—“Monster” by Skillet
Seeing Anna, even briefly, gets me through the next few months, though I can’t conc
entrate for shite. My nineteenth birthday comes and goes without a blip on the radar except a text from the twins and a pity call from Blake.
I’ve always gone through the motions of life, doing what needs to be done and putting on a good show, but I’ve stopped caring about the show now. I can’t even lose myself in the drums anymore. I’m too busy wishing for something more. The band knows something’s up with me, and I overhear them talking. They think I’ve become a cokehead or some shit. I don’t bother correcting them.
In May I start to feel the itch. It’s been three months since I saw her, and I know her birthday’s coming up. I need to hear from her, to get my fix.
I’m sitting at a bar with Michael, Bennett, and Raj. When I see a group of girls watching me, then making their move to come over, I take out my mobile and dial Marna. I hunch into myself a bit while I talk, and the girls don’t approach. They wait.
“Where are you?” I ask when Marna answers.
“Scotland, my lad.” She sounds chipper.
“Any news?”
“Erm . . . no. Not really.”
“Not really?”
“I meant no. Just no.”
A prickle of apprehension heats my skin. “Are they still traveling together?”
“No.”
Before I can ask another question I hear my mates greeting someone loudly, and the voice of Anna Malone rings out behind me.
“Hey, Kai! You’re coming tonight, right?”
“Who’s that?” Marna asks in a rush. “Is it the other Anna?”
“Hush,” I say, turning to Anna. She’s beaming at first, then cringes.
“Oh, sorry! Didn’t know you were on the phone.” She smiles and covers her mouth, turning to the bartender for a drink.
“What a cow,” Marna mutters.
“Tell me what else you’ve heard, Marn.”
She pauses too long. “Like I said, nothing.”
My skin heats. As usual, I go for worst-case scenario. “Something’s happened. Is anyone hurt?”
“No!”