Society Rules (27 page)

“You may have to learn to set aside your ideas of what is rational, in light of the situation.” Jackson whispered the words while stroking the side of her neck with his lips. He then pulled back slowly, closed his eyes, and took a deep, shaky breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled slowly.

Some sort of Zen-like attempt at self-control, she guessed. He opened his eyes, and Indie watched the color lighten and clear, and then he smiled.

In a flash, he was on his feet as though gravity had no effect on him. He held his hand down to her. Confused, Indie took it, and he effortlessly hauled her to her feet.

“I think . . .” he took another cleansing breath, “that we should talk . . . get more familiar with one another, backwards as that seems, before things go . . . further.”

She once again took note of the fact that, while Jackson looked very young, he most definitely had the commanding presence of a man; authoritative and calm.

His wisp of an accent gave him the cultured air of the well educated.

Ah, he was too freaking perfect. Indie wanted to toss him back on the floor and savage his body in an extremely un-ladylike way.

She knew he read those thoughts, because he froze and looked down at her with a territorial stare that made her belly clench like a fist. Jackson looked torn for a moment, as if he was ready to surrender all pretense of control around her, and pounce on her with equal enthusiasm, but then Indie felt his surge of strength.

Shaking his head, he threw off that notion, much to her disappointment.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to get to know you better if you’re going to be all reasonable and stuff.” Indie sulked.

Jackson’s eyes laughed, but his brain was clearly longing to explore her alternative option.

Instead, he led her to a wide planked wooden table, smooth with age, stopping to pick up a pillow from the couch as they passed by. Before Indie sat down, he tossed it to her. She was startled, but caught it easily and tucked it in front of her body, wrapping her arms around it automatically.

“Your security pillow, right?” He spoke absently, his mind still working on pulling itself away from the previous thoughts.

Oh
sure.
Right.

Of course he
would
know all of her little quirks. Indie always liked to hold on to something when she was nervous, and right now she was feeling it. He sat down across from her at the narrow table. She could easily reach forward to touch him, so she didn’t feel the agony of separation that she was afraid that she would feel.

Indie let herself stare at him.

He was the picture of masculine perfection.

Jackson leaned back in his chair casually, with the four fingers of each hand tucked into his pockets, thumbs resting along the waistband of his jeans.

He wore a pale blue t-shirt, that fit him very,
very
well, and over it, a long-sleeved button down shirt, though it was unbuttoned as she noted seemed to be his preference. It was embossed with thin white and blue stripes, matching the tee shirt perfectly. He remained motionless, as he allowed this blatant appraisal to take place, watching her through hooded eyes.

The muscles of his belly were like speed bumps rippling down his abdomen, clearly visible through the tight shirt. Her eyes lingered for a moment, and then continued their assessment, taking in the narrowing angles as she dropped her gaze further towards . . .

“See anything you want?” Jackson’s voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, and Indie flushed nearly purple with embarrassment. He shut his eyes and drew in a quick breath.

What a completely asinine thing to say; he couldn’t believe the words had come from his mouth.

When did I become totally deranged? He felt horrible that he had caused her embarrassment, but when he opened his eyes and his mouth to apologize, he saw that Indie had recovered very nicely, and was eyeing him with, if it was possible, even more hunger and appreciation.

Interesting
.

It was also clear from her thoughts that she was going to shelve those feelings, and forge onward with her quest for more information. She was going to ignore his cocky little statement, for now at least.

And so could he.

He just wished he knew where it had come from. Jackson shook his head a little. He had never thought of himself as a particularly forward or sexually aggressive kind of guy. Maybe he had just never been properly inspired.

This
is
becoming
just
more
and
more
bizarre
, he winced, confused.

For a split second, the sexual tension in the space between them created an almost unbearable surge of hormonal waves. The air was thick with it, and the weight of the needing was fighting for his acknowledgement. Indie was feeling it as well, he was willing to bet, but he was a master of control, was he not?

Christ, self-control was kind of his thing. One of the things he did best.

Jackson allowed himself to dwell on the question of what other things he might do best. So far, he had no point of comparison, other than the fact that he was damn good at any kind of physical activity. And sex was quite . . .
physical
, was it not?

No.

He had to stop thinking now, or else he was going to figuratively rip loose his control, wad it up and hurl it out the nearest window. He focused on what he wanted to say.

Indie finally coughed a little, regaining his attention, and started to speak. He held up a hand to stop her.

“Before the onslaught of questions begins, I would like to tell you what I think I know, because I’ll bet you have spent your entire life thinking you were somehow ‘abnormal’, and I want to show you how on track you have actually always been.”

How could he know this?

Wait. Of course. He seemed to know everything about her.

Her curiosity raised its weary head and sniffed the air, hungry for information.

“Well, okay.” She leaned forward and shrugged. “Go for it!”

He leaned forward as well, unconsciously mirroring her moves, and placed his hands on the table, clasped tightly together. He cocked his head to one side slightly, and looked up at her from under the lock of hair that fell forward, and smiled.

Indie sucked in her breath at this sight.

Oh
sweet
Jesus,
but
he’s
breathtaking!
His comment about seeing something she wanted had almost made her wilt with heat, but she felt that she had hidden her nasty little thoughts well enough. She hoped, anyway.

“Okay,” he interrupted her second virtual molestation of his body. Jackson hesitated, relieved that no further idiotic comments dropped from his lips, and then continued.

“You don’t sleep much, if at all. You naturally gravitate toward healthy foods, organic if you can get it, and you have an instinctive aversion to anything unhealthy. You wouldn’t smoke, can’t drink alcohol, and tend to like physical activity.” He paused, as though listening to a distant sound, then resumed.

“You have exceptional math skills, your body temperature runs slightly higher than ‘normal’, but you’ve never been sick a day in your life. You are mesmerized by music, and drink it in with an almost physical pleasure.”

“How could you . . .” Indie cut in and he lifted his finger in a “one moment” gesture.

“You have an outstanding work ethic, compassion that is off the charts, although you try to hide it, to appear ‘tougher’, and finally . . . ,” he narrowed his eyes at her mischievously, “you are very emotionally needy!”

He easily dodged the pillow that she flung at him.

“And defiant as well!” He laughed, and threw the pillow back.

“I know these last two things about you because of my own traits. I am a natural born caretaker . . . protector. But I also need a challenge, I suppose. I couldn’t respect anyone who instantly capitulated to my wishes all the time, with no opinion of their own . . . how perfectly boring
that
would be!”

“You see, Indie,” he spoke gently, “I am supposed to be everything you need, as you are to me . . . my perfect match!”

Indie was speechless, but for only a moment.

Needy?
Defiant?
Oh really? She crossed her arms and stared at Jackson . . . well . . .
defiantly
.

“I am not!”

Jackson looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling past her right shoulder, and then abruptly met her glare with a little smirk. “Hmm, I’ve just checked with my imaginary friends, and they’ve confirmed this as fact!”

He had to laugh at the look on her face at this idea. She sat with arms folded, tapping her foot, and waiting for him to recover. It took quite a long time, and her annoyance faded as she watched him trying to compose himself. His laugh was infectious, and by the time he had pulled it together, Indie was more dazed than stressed, and had to fight to keep from smiling.

Just a little.

“Well, Indie.” He shook his head, a little out of breath. “Let me assure you, these are adorable traits to
me
. I am just assuming, but I believe I am spot on about these things.” He sobered.

“I’ve been searching for you for so long, but had not had much luck until Miss Conner reported that she suspected that one of her nurses was an ‘orphaned Member’, and I was contacted at once.”

“Where were you when they called you?” she asked, curious about the places he had been, and how far he’d come, just to see if she was the one. He shrugged.

“I was right here,” he gestured toward the huge wall of windows. I was assigned as caretaker to the points of alignment, Mystery Hill, in New Hampshire and Calendar II, which just happens to be in central Vermont, just a little over two years ago. There are several others nearby that I keep records on, as well.”

Indie frowned to herself as the thought occurred to her that it was just a little over two years ago that she had gotten the unshakable drive to move to this very state.

Coincidence?

Probably not. Perhaps she had the answer as to why this had happened, huh?

She pulled her mind back to Jackson’s comments. “Points of . . . what?” she asked, wary at once. She knew she was about to hear a lot of disturbing information, and she didn’t know if she was ready. Indie decided that she would ask cautious questions, determining as she went along, whether she could handle the answers.

Quickly, she asked a different question.

“Miss Maggie called me an ‘orphaned Member’?” she began, absently rubbing her hands up and down her arms, beginning to feel a little chilled. “What exactly does that mean?”

Jackson frowned as he reached over to pull a small throw from the couch, and rose to his feet, seemingly distracted.

He wrapped the throw around Indie, as if without conscious thought, then returned to his seat. He rested his hands on his knees, looking down at the floor, for just a moment. He seemed to be preparing to tell a very long story.

“Just the gentlest, most abbreviated reply possible would be appreciated,” Indie warned him. His head snapped up, and he gave her a tight smile.

“An orphaned Member is simply someone with the complete set of genetic markers, making them a pure descendent of the First Society . . . but one who was never identified and has had to make their own way. It is extremely rare, and most, if not all, end up institutionalized, medicated or treated to some other form of misery, because people think they’re crazy, and usually, they believe it themselves.”

She shuddered involuntarily. How easily she could relate to that.

“You see,” he still spoke with great care, “The very few orphaned Members that there have been, haven’t fared well, at all. You are incredibly strong, and gifted.”

“And my love for music is . . .”

“Your love for music is universal among the Society. We all do, and most play some kind of instrument. If we don’t, then we play the hell out of a radio or an IPod!”

Jackson’s eyes caressed her as he spoke. “I suppose the reason for this trait is the fact that our original ancestors communicated mainly by song, and wordless notes. I guess we still feel the attraction.”

Indie drank this in. The
original
ancestors?

“Miss Maggie spoke about my having the ‘gift of invisibility’,” Indie whispered. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Jackson stood, and began pacing, dragging his hands through his hair, as Indie had noticed was his habit when he was nervous. She tried to ignore the sensual movement of his muscles, evident even under his t-shirt.

“That would be the explanation for how you escaped notice while you were a child, indeed, until you were sighted by Maggie. There are few Society Members in the first place, but people born with the markers have a trigger, like GPS, if you will, alerting the other Members when a pure descendent is born. They then track that child, and observe everything . . . the family dynamic, formulating a plan to become part of that child’s world . . . his upbringing, and once put into place, the child is told very early about how special he is, and what he cannot reveal to anyone but other Members. It is pretty much part of the natural defense mechanism of the genetic set, that children understand easily, and instinctively that survival depends on secrecy, even from their parents.”