State of Independence Page 11

  “Oh no. Please, Indy.” Gretchen says as she comes in behind me.

  The zipper is stuck just a quarter way down. I pull it back up and down again. It sticks in the same spot.

  “Why should I, huh? Aren’t you tired of his crap? I mean he thinks he can just tell everyone what to do...Well not me. Ugh! What is wrong with this zipper!?!”

  Flustered at not getting it to cooperate, I give up and sit down on the bed, heavily. Sudden feelings have decided to make themselves known. Confusion at my attraction to him. Taking up space so...completely in my chest. Guilt after just leaving Lucian such a short time ago. Anger at how they’d collaborated to keep me...well, just to keep me within their grasp.

  My eyes light on the sword next to me. It hadn’t been completely wasted time.

  Maybe that’s why I’m so mad. I thought I’d been working with people that cared.

  In the end though, vamps are vamps and their allegiances are their own.

  What’d I’d learned under Lucian’s tutelage was all under the premise that I was ‘the sword.’ None of it was real. None of it was done simply because he wanted to, believed in me or even liked me.

  Gretchen sits down next to me. “Is it really all that bad?”

  I shrug a shoulder. “No. I mean. I’m wearing a fabulous dress and getting to eat your famous chocolate mousse.” I smile and wave a hand down to indicate the dress. Also, her mousse is a positive life-reaffirming experience.

  She bumps my shoulder with her own. “And not-too-hard-to-look-at company?”

  I smile. Gretchen’s been a fixture in Gray’s household for...well I don’t know how long. She’s been married to Adam, Gray’s beta, for at least two decades. I know where her loyalties lie. She’s been a staple in Marc’s life since he was a baby.

  I look at the sword sitting next to my hip.

  I really only see one course of action before me. Whether I’m the sword or not.

  Time’s inevitable tick means the life I have now is the only one I can live. And there probably won’t be many beautiful nights spent in a beautiful dress with a handsome man in my future.

  Carpe Diem.

  “Shoes?” I ask Gretch.

  She smiles and dives into the box, under the layers of the tissue paper.

  Gold high-heeled sandals, strappy, flimsy. Completely impractical.

  She holds them out to me. I take them in my hands. “Nice. Very pretty.”

  She stands up then, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “It’s so nice to have you home.”

  Her essence of Tide soap and lavender remains. It’d be so easy to say, ‘yes’ this is my home. To fall into comfort and security. But that’s under his control. And I vowed the day I left to never be.

  The shoes are a bit tight. I take three steps to the door, unsteadily.

  I balance myself with a hand on the doorjamb while I reach down and pull the shoes off.

  I carry them in one hand, my dress lifted in the other as I take the stairs down to the kitchen.

  “The shoes didn’t fit?” Gretchen is standing in front of the kitchen island.

  “No.”

  “Well, go on out! I’ve already got the bread and cheese plate out there.”

  Right. I push out the back door, eyeing the new lights strung among the trees, the golden hues of sunset.

  There at the edge of the patio, surveying the large backyard with his back is to me is Grayson.

  He’d exchanged the sweater for a perfectly fitting dark sport coat.

  He turns. A wind kicks up, fluttering my dress. Cue dramatic movie scene.

  He pulls out a chair from the small bistro table.

  I sit down in it, dropping the shoes under the table and out of the way.

  “You look very beautiful, Independence.”

  I clear my throat to hold back my instinctive snippy response. “Yeah. Um. Thank you, for the dress.”

  He smiles. It’s nice.

  I scoop up a cracker and slice of cheese, biting it in half wondering idly when Marc will get here.

  I’d skipped lunch unintentionally because I was so caught up at the library. So four cracker-cheese combos hit my mouth in quick succession before I look up.

  Grayson has taken a seat in the chair across from me, and is leaning back relaxed, one hand holding a wine glass, studying me.

  “You’ve had time to read your mother’s journals?” He asks.

  I nod my head and take another cracker.

  “You haven’t reached out to your sisters yet.”

  His words are not a question. He just knows.

  I shrug my shoulders, feeling the slightest pinch in my right.

  Gretchen comes out then, bearing a tray with two bowls with fresh loaf of French bread between them. She sets one bowl in front of me, one in front of Grayson and the bread in the middle.

  “Enjoy! The mousse is in the refrigerator when you’re ready for it! See you tomorrow!”

  She practically skips away. My nerves ratchet up a notch. What is this?

  The situation definitely has a ‘date’ vibe. But Marc’s not here, and Grayson is acting as if he’s settled in, tearing a chunk of bread off and eating it.

  I reach for the wine glass - he must have filled it when I was stuffing my face with cheese - and swallow a good portion. It’s smooth.

  I give an appreciative smile. “Nice wine.”

  I grip my fork and dig in then, putting my attention on anything but the man across from me.

  “Slow down, Indy.”

  It had been in the back of my mind to shovel this food down my gullet and get this ‘date’ over with ASAP because I have the feeling Marc is not gonna show up anytime soon.

  I toss a single shrimp into my mouth and chew with a smile.

  “God. I’ve missed you.” He smiles.

  He missed me? There must be a question or confusion on my face because he goes on.

  “Nobody gives me...your amazing ability to be so cheeky. Your sarcasm or wit.”

  He thinks I’m witty?

  “But. We need to talk.”

  And we are back to brass tacks.

  I push my plate away from me and pick up my wine glass. “So talk.”

  My heart is so grateful for this reprieve. I seize upon it full force, happy to get out of ‘date’ analyzing.

  “Your sister - Justice - has made significant findings from her research. She’s decoded some of your mother’s journals. The council’s officially tasked her with finding a way to continue our existence here and keep the Otherside from coming through. She - privately - has informed us that the two are not mutually exclusive. That to do one, would mean she would fail in the other.”

  I let his words sink in.

  Our ruination lies in Earth’s continuation. Vice versa.

  One death to lose, one death to win, one death to go on.

  I want to ask if Justice has had anymore visions. Did she ever confide that she had them in the first place? As far as I know, only Rick and I have ever known about her sight.

  “She thinks,” he continues at my silence, “that holding the Otherside out may be impossible. That this is simply an evolution of sorts. An inevitably.”

  An inevitably, Mr. Anderson. I can’t help but flash back to that movie night. That trilogy of filmmaking that depicted robots taking over and harvesting humans.

  Justice had insisted we watch it. And I hadn’t minded. It had been an escape from reality at the time. But now? Now the storyline hits too close to home.

  Instead of robots, we have supernaturals.

  And in this scenario I’m supposed to be Neo?

  One death to go on.

  Shit. I can’t even remember the way that movie ended. But isn’t it a popular theory that all stories are just reiterations of the truth? A lot of commonalities exist among most major religions; more than people like to admit.

  I stand, walking along the edge of the patio, looking at my sister’s garden. It is, perhaps more beautiful now than it was
two years ago. Untouched and untamed.

  Weeds grow among her carefully cultivated herbs.

  My two shields. No. They are just shields. Her prophetic words never said they had to be shields for me. Two shields for humanity.

  “Grayson. I have a favor to ask.”

  He stands and joins me, our shoulders touching as we look over the back yard.

  “No matter what happens to me...you have to protect them. Promise me.” I turn on my last words, seeking his eyes. It hadn’t hit me till right in this moment that I might not live to be twenty-five. That my inevitability is death. And if I die? I want this assurance.

  “I will always do what's in my willpower to protect them.”

  He’s leaving something unsaid. The thing that I know will be crucial to me.

  “Even if it means…”

  “Don’t say it, Independence. Your life is just as valuable as theirs.”

  “No. How can my life be more valuable than two? A thousand? A hundred thousand?”

  Tears swim in my eyes at the thought. A thousand human lives. That’d already happened in Scotland. How far are we from that here?

  Heck even the less than one hundred I’d stumbled upon in the last weeks of investigating our area are too many.

  He grabs my elbow then. I hadn’t even noticed I’d been turning away from him.

  “No. I won’t give you up. We haven’t even had a chance.”

  His words come out hot and fierce.

  “A chance?” I pull my elbow from his grasp and turn completely away.

  War within me. Elated yet angry. Now he wants a chance?

  This is a date! With him!

  The pool house catches my eye. Dancing lights inside it. I seize on the distraction and walk to it. I need space to figure this all out.

  Pull open the door and catch my breath.

  It’s been transformed into a veritable jungle. Humid and millions of tropical plants. There’s only a small trail around the pool edge that is uncovered.

  Everything else is flora.

  Is that a banana plant? Warm yellow lights blink quickly in and out among the foliage. Fireflies?

  I hear the door close behind me.

  “What is going on in here?” I touch the leaf of a palm half expecting it to feel plastic, but it’s organic tangibility surprises me.

  “I’m not entirely certain. It started to transform after you left. I would come to swim, and a new plant would be here.”

  I watch the lights, trying to confirm that they are fireflies, but the little yellow orbs seem to just appear and disappear without bodies.

  “Listen, Indy -” He’s at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, feet splayed wide.

  I break in, having to get my thoughts out. “No, you listen. I’m not sure how this Otherside inevitably thing is going to play out. But I do know I’ll do everything in my power to protect my sisters. The pack. The people of this planet. And not because I think I’m some mystical prophesied savior, but because I don’t want mass genocide.” I pause, cause owning up to my faults is hard and the words stall in my throat.

  “I was wrong to freeze you out these last couple of weeks. It’s time I met with my sisters. Met with the council. Met with you and the guardians. Knowledge is power, and it’s time we arm ourselves.” His head inclines just a fraction.

  “Furthermore. I am a grown-woman. I make my own decisions. Not any Alpha. Not any Council member. And definitely not any one of the Guardians. I will do what must be done. And if you - or anyone - gets in my way, I’ll freakin’ steamroll a bitch.”

  He lifts a sardonic eyebrow. “Done?”

  That’s a good question. The energy slowly ebbs from my chest, out to my fingertips.

  I shrug my shoulder up. Familiar pinch.

  He stalks to me. I lift my gaze from his collar to his eyes.

  “Fearless.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. Kisses my forehead, my nose.

  This close to him with the echoes of anger, passion, and doom in my heart - I don’t want tenderness. And I don’t want his - whatever he thinks he is doing with this entire ‘date’ debacle.

  I clench my fists in his suit jacket. His eyes met mine with inhuman sparkle. He thinks he’s won.

  With one pull, I leverage my strength, throwing his weight to the right. His hand comes up at the last second, grabbing my wrist and taking me down into the pool with him.

  In the deep end, the dress floats up around me, obscuring him from view. I push off the bottom and come up, seething.

  He has already surfaced, and shakes the water from his head. “What did you do that for?”

  Chapter 27

  I stroke over to the edge of the pool and pull myself out. It’s surprisingly difficult in the mounds of wet fabric. I don’t turn around, don’t answer his question. I stalk from the pool house.

  Gripping the wet dress around my thighs with both hands as I cross the backyard, back to the patio and house. It’s the only way I don’t trip over the sodden mess. This didn’t go at all as I thought. And I hate surprises.

  “Indy! What’s your problem?” He is right behind me. Following me.

  Inside the backdoor, I spin, water slinging and dripping from me. He’s so close, I put a hand out, hit his chest and take a step back. I take a minute to gather my thoughts, beat back the anger pulsing through me. I push my hair back from my face.

  “You are still playing games, Grayson. I have news for you. You blew your chance. Two fucking years ago.”

  He takes that one step to put himself in my space. I have to tip my head up to look at him.

  “Did I?” His lips crash against mine. I shove my tongue against his, battling him.

  Our bodies press together, cooled from the dip in the pool, but heating up.

  Fire and ice.

  He tastes of wine and butter, and I realize I am no longer battling him in our kiss, but accepting of it.

  I shove my hands against his chest. He pulls back, eyes ablaze.

  Neither of us says anything. The only sound are the small drips from our clothes onto the tile.

  Crash. Again. This time he crushes me between the wall and his body. I encircle him with my legs. His hands clasp me to him at my upper thighs and the exquisite feeling of having him surround me is nearly my undoing.

  My nakedness - only commando would do for this dress - flattens against his slacks and the thing I want most beneath it. I groan at the barrier. The heat and steel encased in that fabric.

  His lips blaze a path down my throat to my shoulder.

  He pulls back, fists the ribbon on my right shoulder and pulls it down my arm. “I hate that he marked you.” His mouth descends to the top of my shoulder where blade and fang pierced me.

  It is a curious scar. A line bisected by two dots. The only other scar I bear is the one along my back shoulder.

  Grayson’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin there. Without the ribbon holding the top in place, the fabric slips down, exposing my breast. He descends, kissing, sucking, nibbling.

  I’d wanted this - wanted him - for so long my constant low-pulse of arousal when I’m around him is flaming up to engulf me.

  I reach between us, tug his zipper down. He growls at my throat and grips my hand. Bringing it up above my head.

  I push against him, but he’s already released his beast and it lands against me with thick heat. I emit something between a groan and huff, colliding my lips back against his.

  I want to be fused to this man. I want him inside me now.

  He shoves me against the wall, and pushes in. I dig my nails into his shoulders and squeeze my thighs and pelvic muscles against him as he attempts to drag himself back out.

  I will punish him with my body.

  Make him rue the day he rebuffed me.

  Slay him.

  He groans and pins me against the wall while pushing back in again. The satisfaction, the pleasure. I demand more of it, biting his earlobe when he next pulls out.

  At the
fourth stroke, I can’t stop the dancing sprint of tingling that erupts at the base of my spine and convulses into epic earthquake eruptions in my core.

  Hot lava bang!

  Chapter 28

  “Gray? Have you seen my keys?” I poke my head into his office. He’s on the phone and gives me a quick shake of his head.

  Marc and Adam are sitting in the chairs in front of his desk. I give them brief chin nods of acknowledgement.

  I start a systematic search of his desk.

  Lifting the basket that holds the mail.

  Pawing through the papers just in case I dropped it in there when I was checking yesterday. I was a bit distracted.

  He finishes up his call, and drops the phone on his desk. “You can quit looking. I have the keys.”

  “Ok. Can I get my keys?”

  “No. That bike is a death machine. I don’t want you riding it at this time of year.”

  My adrenaline spikes. “You. Don’t. Get. To. Tell. Me. What. To. Do.”

  Marc and Adam share a look.

  “Where do you have to go? I can drive you.” Marc offers.

  I cut a look at him. “Stay out of this.”

  Adam clears his throat. I swing my gaze back to Grayson. He is eyeing me contemplatively.

  I can’t even. One night in his bed and he thinks he controls me?

  “Are you serious?” I ask him.

  “You might be carrying my child now, Independence. I won’t let you put yourself at risk. What’s the problem?”

  His words have the effect of igniting a nuclear blast of anger within me. His kid? He just casually announces that we had sex last night, right here in his office, in front of Marc and Adam?

  “You. Are. Delusional. And you are my problem. But I’m gonna solve it right now.”

  His lips thin with disapproval.

  I am a mini-tornado then, whipping around making a dramatic exit. Gretchen and Torren are in the kitchen, and I give them no notice has I stomp through to the garage.

  “His kid?” I mutter at the craziness. That would be...crazy. Just all around crazy. There’s no other words for it. Good thing I got that implant in my arm.

  I breathe in the familiar space, noting the absence of Glory’s SUV and Marc’s Harley. The four-car garage now only boasts two vehicles and the Ducati. He must have moved it in here when I was sleeping. The other vehicles taking up space are the Tahoe and a drool-worthy white McLaren.