“But see, now that I have this trait, I’ve got something to bargain with.”
“No, you don’t. You can’t bargain. It’s all or nothing with them.”
“Then I’ll go. I’ll trade myself for her.” I stand a little taller. But I’m quaking in my shoes, all feathers and fluff, no hero at all.
“It’d be suicide. For both of you.”
“Ana was able to come back,” I reason.
“Right, and look at her now.” He unclasps his fists to run them through his hair. “You are too precious to put yourself in their hands. They’ll sell your trait to whoever has the most money and leave your body in cryo. Or worse, just tie you down and farm your bone marrow every day. Everything we’ve tried to do to keep ourselves safe from them—keep you safe—you’d be undoing. Even your dad was afraid of this.”
Dad. I think back to his words in the hospital before he died. He’d said: “Take care of yourself. Stay safe, no matter what.” I remember thinking it was odd that he didn’t say anything about Dyl. Now I realize—he knew.
He knew I had a trait, that I would be coveted by Aureus. In his eyes, I was more precious than my sister. My anger flares. Probably all our lives, he’s placed a different value on his love for us.
I’m so upset by all this information that I forget my hand is still on the tattoo machine. My hand involuntarily squeezes, popping the cap off, and a needle jabs my index finger.
“Ouch!” Before I can even look at it, Cy runs over and grabs my hand. My finger sports a splotch of ink, and he wipes it carefully away with the sleeve of his shirt. A tiny black dot is now embedded in my fingertip.
“Looks like you just got your first tattoo,” he says. He doesn’t smile while he examines my newest addition. I don’t smile either. Every time I look at this dot, I’ll think of how my father let me down. How he let Dyl down in a way a father never should.
I pull my hand away from Cy. I refuse to give Dad any of my mental time right now. “This whole torture thing you do, tattooing yourself every day. Does it hurt?” I ask, while he’s too close to escape my question.
“Yes.”
“Does it take the pain away?”
“No.” His face is stony. He won’t look me in the eye anymore.
“Well, I don’t want to live in purgatory for the rest of my life. I’m already in it. I’m going to get my sister back.” I brush by him and head for the door. When it opens, Hex saunters by half a second later. It’s too much of a coincidence.
“Just taking a walk here. Yep. Go on with your lives,” he barks, walking by.
“Eavesdropper!” I yell. Cy punches the pad next to me and the door shuts. I open it up a few seconds later. This time the hallway is really empty. I move to leave, but Cy steps ahead of me.
“Don’t leave.” His hand passes within an inch of my face to shut the door once and for all, then slips to my cheek. My skin burns with electricity that even Micah couldn’t generate. Only this time, there are no magic tricks involved.
I know we’re on the knife’s edge of something and nothing, but nothing is all I’ve ever had. I don’t know what to do. So I shut my eyes and turn away. Cy catches my arm to spin me around. Before I can inhale with surprise, his lips are on mine.
His mouth is warm and strong, and it sends waves of weakness down my spine. He breaks the kiss and I sway, unsure if my legs are still working.
“Don’t leave,” he repeats in a whisper.
I take a few breaths and hold on to the wall. I nod, the tiniest movement of my head, and just like that, I’m over the knife’s edge and drowning in a sea of something. Cy encircles my waist with his arm and tilts his head down to find my lips again. We bump against the wall and there’s no Micah, no horrors, no parental disappointments, nothing but this fire in my toes and knees and every inch of skin I possess.
I pull him closer, as if I could make his very molecules lock with mine and never let go.
Cy scoops me up and carries me over to his bed as if I weighed less than an ounce. We melt into the softness of his sheets, and the delicious weight of his body pins me to the bed.
I push him away for a second to catch my breath. I make him look at me. “That night at Argent, when you kissed me. Tell me the truth. Did you do any neurodrugs?”
Cy presses his lips together. Then he shakes his head.
“So you took advantage!”
“Actually, you forget. You kissed me. I was an innocent bystander.” He dips his head and lets his nose nuzzle mine. “So I guess I owe you, huh?”
“I guess you do,” I say faintly as he fits his mouth perfectly to the curve of my lips. His fingers intertwine with mine. He pushes my hands into the bed above my head, and deepens the kiss.
I can’t face what reality has in store for me. Not yet. So I let him mold me to his very bones, and I sink into the ocean of him, willingly.
CHAPTER 21
I SKULK OUT OF CY’S ROOM AT six a.m. after unwrapping myself from his sleeping arms. I’d stay there until I shriveled up from dehydration and famine if I could, but I can’t. Cy’s very presence makes me forget things, and I cannot forget Dyl.
That morning, a new idea takes shape in my mind. If I can figure out how to bottle my trait into a usable product, I could trade that for Dyl. Maybe we can both emerge from this situation unscathed.
Maybe.
I need to eat and then get to the lab, but first things first. If I can keep the whole me-and-Cy thing secret, it’ll make everything easier. After a quick trip to my room, I’m presentable. A dark blue scarf covers my neck, and I try to keep my face neutral.
Vera, Wilbert, and Hex are all chatting over a breakfast of scones and bagels. I have to admit, it makes me feel fuzzy inside to see them together, like the morning after Argent.
“Look who slept in today,” Vera grumbles. Sounds like an accusation instead of a comment. She’s only two sips into a giant cappuccino, and is thus more Venus flytrap than human at the moment.
“I never pegged you as a scarf kinda girl,” Hex says.
“I was cold,” I say, reaching for a spare mug of tea.
“It’s not cold in here,” Hex says through a mouthful of buttered scone. “Gimme.” One long arm reaches across the table and whips the scarf off in a second.
“Stop it!” I yell, but it’s too late. Wilbert peers at my neck.
“Hey! Who bit you?”
“It wasn’t Callie the Wonder Pig, that’s for sure,” Vera snorts.
I try to ignore them, which becomes doubly impossible when Cy walks in. His face and neck are pristine and unmarked. I stop breathing, just looking at him. Vera, Wilbert, and Hex all hoot at the top of their lungs, catcalling him before he’s even three steps into the room.
“Cyrad, you dog!”
“Woof-woof!”
“Why don’t you chew on her ankles for a change! She needs her neck!”
Cy’s face goes white. I cover my head in embarrassment, as if it will do anything to lessen the howls coming from these three. He makes a quick assessment, and wisely turns around to flee.
“Hey! Where are all your tattoos today? Did she break your machine last night? Rowr!” Vera hollers, trying for one last jab.
“Poor kid. He has no idea what evil torment I have in store for him,” Hex says, leaning back in his chair. He gracelessly sucks a piece of dried cranberry out of his teeth.
“Actually, I think he does. That’s probably why he left,” I say. I reach over to hook two bagels and a jug of pomegranate juice. “See you guys later.”
“Hey, just because you two are all chummy, don’t forget about us, okay?” Vera says.