The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) (47 page)

'Where have you been! I haven't seen you for...'

'There's no time for pleasantries, Lorna. We have to go. Tomorrow.' I cut in, breathing in her fruity, shampoo smell.

'Tomorrow?' She frowns, the word exiting her mouth as a gasp.

'Something's happened,' I tell her as we make our way along the hall to her room. 'Something to put the plan in jeopardy.'

'It's Malachy Beighley, isn't it?' She frowns. 'He was using you for information and now he's worked it out. That Auctorita bastard, I knew...'

'Malachy is out there right now trying to fix the situation!' I snap. 'He's trying to help us, not hinder us, so shut up about him.' I warn her. She shuts up, but then a strange smile forms on her lips.

'Oh my God,' She suddenly splutters with laughter. 'You like him, don't you?'

'Lorna, let's focus here...'

'You do!' She squeals. 'Oh God, Eve, you like a challenge, don't you?' She shakes her head. 'The future Auctorita, a shell of a man, an unwilling pet of his sister's and his family's and you had to fall for him!' She shrieks, highly amused. 'You aren't going soft on the plan are you? You're not going to let him convince you to stay? Oh God, he's not coming with us is he?!'

'Right!' I bark, losing my patience along with my temper. Lorna backs away, my sudden anger alarming her. 'You know what, Lorna? Yes, I do like Malachy, I like him a great deal. He means a lot to me and he is risking a lot for me.

Until you came along, my life was going great, then your stubbornness screwed it up. Now I have no choice but to leave with you, and let's not forget that I'm doing it to help you.

So whilst you stand there mocking me for liking Malachy, and protesting about how you'd hate it if he came with us, why don't you try remembering that I'm leaving him behind for
you
. That I'm doing all this for
you
. And that a little fucking gratitude wouldn't go amiss?!' My voice slowly creeps up in volume as her eyes widen in shock.

The silence that follows my outburst is deafening and we stand, face to face, immersed in it.

'You're right,' She murmurs suddenly. 'I'm sorry. I am grateful to you, and I'm sorry that you have to leave the people you love behind because of me. I hope you can forgive my stubbornness and understand that I can't and won't be changed willingly, for the sake of my mother.'

'It's okay,' I sigh, slumping onto her bed. 'I think I can speak for everyone in this situation when I say that I wish Sir Alec had never met your mother.'

'You surely can,' She nods, perching next to me. 'Tomorrow's pretty soon. I'm not sure we're ready.'

'We're going to have to be,' I shrug. 'Leaving it any longer is too risky, even if Malachy comes through for me.'

'What do we need?' She asks. I pause a moment to consider.

'Nothing. Walking to the border with three suitcases under our arms will look just a tad suspicious. Of course, some money wouldn't go amiss, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers.'

'Excuse me?' Lorna frowns. 'Who said I was a beggar? My mother was a Duchess, remember?' She smiles, jumping from the bed and rooting around under it. She pulls out a brown leather bag and opens it to reveal neatly bundled bank notes, crisp and brightly coloured.

'There's a little over fifty thousand Euros. My mother left it to me, I grabbed it the day Sir Alec took me.'

I grin, kissing Lorna's cheek and hugging her almost as tightly as she hugged me. 'Thank you, Marcheline!' I laugh.

'Yeah,' Lorna sighs sadly. 'It should have been a lot more. It's all probably still sitting in a building society somewhere, but I can hardly waltz into the bank and demand it, can I?'

'Might look a bit suspect,' I agree. 'Right, we meet at second period in the entrance hall. Use all the back routes, the unused corridors, I'll do the same. They'll start looking for me first; I'm supposed to be in Theory.

We'll cross the grounds, chatting and acting casual. Hopefully someone will see us from the windows and they'll turn a blind eye to my skipping class as I'll be with you.

If we get stopped as we near the border it's;
Oops, we didn't realise how far we'd walked, silly us!
And we try again the next day. If we don't get caught, when we reach the border, you jump on my back and I'll jump the fence.

Then it's make it up as we go along time. My only rule is that no matter where we go or what we do, we do it fast.

Agreed?'

'Agreed,' Lorna nods, grinning like a maniac. 'I can't believe we're really about to do this!' She squeals. 'I've waited so long!'

'Well, let's not start celebrating just yet,' I warn her, sliding off her bed. 'I have to go, I've got something to take care of. Second period, don't be late.' I point a finger at her and she nods as I slip silently out of her room.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

As the lift reaches the fourth floor and the doors slide open, I can barely control my breathing. If Lucrezia hasn't bought Malachy's excuse, Lorna and I can kiss our freedom goodbye forever. I know for a fact that if Lucrezia so much as thinks Malachy has feelings for me, her first move will be to get rid of me. She's done it once before, why not do it again?

I step out into the corridor and breathe a sigh of relief to find it empty. I strain my ears for any presence but all of the rooms are vacant, except one. Though I know Malachy's alone, I daren't approach his door. He told me to meet him outside the lift, so by all accounts that's what I'll do.

A few seconds pass before his door swings open and his searching eyes come to rest on mine. He flashes me a smile and I feel a warm, floaty sensation in my stomach. When he smiles, his face transforms – perhaps because it happens so rarely – and he appears younger, innocent and carefree – like a child.

He nods once and I scurry towards him. I'm barely over the threshold before his arms are around me, crushing my ribcage and clamping me to his chest. My body responds instantly, pulling him closer as my lips hungrily seek out his, desperate to taste him, to be as close to him as possible. His fingers curl into my hair and he walks me slowly backwards towards the bed, navigating whilst never removing his lips from mine.

As we near his bed, I stop, pushing him away despite the desperate, burning desire flaming in my chest.

'What's wrong?' He mumbles against me as I break – reluctantly – away from his embrace. He looks gorgeous in a black shirt and black jeans, the dark material in stark contrast to his pale skin and platinum hair.

'Did you speak to Lucrezia?' I ask, trying to ignore the warm feeling in my lower abdomen when I look at him. He nods. 'Did she buy it?'

'She bought it.' He smiles, nuzzling into my neck. His scent washes over me and I breathe it in deeply, closing my eyes and allowing myself, just for a moment, to become lost in him.

'What did you tell her?' I whisper. I feel him sigh before reluctantly answering me.

'That Sir Alec told me to become close to you in order to gain information about his daughter. He doesn't entirely trust you and he wants me to keep an eye on you.'

'And she believed that? Won't she just go and ask Sir Alec herself?'

'Of course she believed it,' He replies irritably. 'In Lucrezia's world, no-one can be trusted. To her, it's the most plausible thing. And no, she won't ask Sir Alec; she knows that in his eyes, it doesn't concern her.' He explains slowly but impatiently.

I nod and he waits, regarding me silently for a moment to make sure I don't have any more questions. When I don't speak, he smiles and gently pushes me back onto the bed. His hands caress my frame, sending hot shivers down my spine and making my thighs burn.

'Malachy?' I speak into his soft hair. He ignores me, hoping I'll shut up. 'Mal?' I push him gently away again and he growls with frustration.

'What is it?' He asks, trying to keep his cool.

'I have to tell you something.' I mumble, feeling the floaty sensation in my stomach churn into fear as Malachy's expression changes to one of anger.

'Don't say it, Eve.' He warns.

'What?' I ask feebly, dreading the answer.

'That yesterday was a mistake. That you and I are a mistake.'

'No!' I breathe a sigh of relief. 'Of course not!' His face relaxes and he leans into me again.

'Then what's wrong?' He frowns, taking my hands. I run my thumb along his smooth skin, keeping my eyes down.

'I'm leaving tomorrow, Mal.' The sentence is barely more than a whisper and I'm half-hoping he hasn't heard. His expression tells me he did.

'What?!' He booms, so loud that I glance nervously at the window, hoping no-one's standing below. 'What do you mean, you're leaving tomorrow?' He stands, dropping my hands like they're hot coals.

'Come on, Mal. You didn't really think I'd abandoned my plans to leave, did you?' I try to sound nonchalant but I end up sounding timid.

'No,' He shakes his head. 'I knew you would leave eventually. Soon, even. But not this soon!'

'Well... why prolong the inevitable?'.

'Oh, I don't know. Because of me, maybe?' He splutters sarcastically.

'Malachy, I have to leave!' I stand, losing my temper at his selfishness. I don't want to leave him any more than he wants me to but I have no choice. 'Lucrezia bought your story for now, but how long is it until she starts prying into my life? Finding reasons to report me? She's probably brain-storming ideas right now!'

'She's not brain-storming ideas!' Malachy tuts.

'How do you know?' I hiss. 'She did it once before, didn't she? And I know she isn't the sharpest pencil in the box but she's not blind, she can see my resemblance to – ' I hesitate. 'She can see the resemblance just like everybody else.'

'So?' He widens his eyes.

'So, she must have a suspicion that you're attracted to me, even if it's only because of... the resemblance,' I don't want to say this sentence, don't even want to think it, really, in case it's actually true. 'Who knows if she even really bought your excuse? Maybe she's just biding her time.'

'She's not – '

'But still,' I interrupt him. 'It'll only be a matter of time, and I can't risk it.'

'But Eve...' He starts to say something, then shakes his head, looking defeated. He slumps down on his bed and I perch next to him, feeling nervous. Malachy is usually so held-together, so rational and quick thinking. To see him so unsure of himself, so lost for words, seems wrong.

'I love you.' He shrugs, knowing that it's not enough to stop me.

I look at him, his blond head hung, his hands clasped tightly together, as if holding them that way will keep everything from falling apart, and I try to contemplate what it will be like to leave him behind.

The thought wrenches my gut so fiercely, I struggle to breathe. I am sad that I must leave Tia, Diana and Richard behind, desperately sad, but the thought of never seeing Malachy again is something else. My chest aches with pain and longing.

'What am I supposed to do when you go?' He asks in a voice that doesn't sound his own.

'Stick to your plan,' I reply firmly, trying to hide my own emotions. 'Become Auctorita, save Aleks, save me and above all; change this world for the better. I want that more than anything. Don't just do it for Aleks, or me or even yourself, do it for all of us.'

He places his head in his hands and his shoulders slump, signalling defeat. I hate to see him this way, but I'm glad I don't have to spend what could be our last moments together arguing.

I don't want to be without Malachy; I want to spend every waking moment with him, and the fact that I never could, not in a million years, only makes me want it more.

In that moment, I know, without a shadow of doubt in my mind, what I perhaps knew all along but was never willing to admit – even to myself.

I take his hands away from his eyes and force him to look at me, though he tries to pull away.

'Malachy,' I squeeze his fingers, trying to get him to hold on properly but he keeps his grip slack. He won't look at me, but maybe that makes it easier. This isn't something I planned, this isn't something I'm familiar with, and if I'm honest with myself, this is the scariest thing I've ever done.

'I love you.' I say it as firmly as I can, looking straight into his eyes though he won't meet them.

As I say the words, I realise more than ever that they're true, and that if I hadn't said them – aloud and to his face – before leaving, I would have regretted it for the rest of eternity. 

He glances up at me finally, his expression sceptical, and regards me closely to see if I'm telling the truth. Something in my eyes must tell him that I am as he suddenly crashes his lips against mine, gripping my face so hard that if I were human, he'd be breaking bones.

It takes me a moment to catch up – his reaction was so unpredicted – but once I have, I give into my body's urges completely. I claw roughly at his shirt, tearing it out of my way until I feel the smoothness of his skin against my fingertips. He pushes me backwards onto the bed and I pull him with me, revelling in the feeling of his weight on top of me.

I open my eyes to find his hair fanned around my face like a halo, his gaze piercing mine, completely unafraid.

Without our shirts on, his skin on mine is like silk, draped across my bare chest as his strong arms wind around my back. I flip over so that I'm sitting astride him, and pin his arms down on the bed. His expression is quizzical, but he doesn't try to break free of my hold as I stop for minute to look at him.

He's like a work of art – every Immortal is – but he is polished and pristine, his skin soft and white, his hair vibrant, his eyes the colour of the frozen sea. I've seen him this close before of course, but I've never truly stopped to look, or to notice that his Auctorita blood is prominent; it swims in his eyes.

I feel a burning desire deep within my chest, not just for him physically, but for him to be mine and mine alone. If Lucrezia wasn't his sister, I could understand now her desperate reluctance to let him go, to let him spend time in the company of others. With him here beneath me, his attention focussed solely on me, I can't imagine ever having to share him with anyone else, and the thought of leaving him makes me feel violently sick.

'I love you.' I tell him again, brushing my lips against his, feeling rather than seeing him smile. I let his hands free to wander across my back, to hold my hips, to touch my face, hair, legs, hands, to allow him to consume me.

I lose myself in him entirely, forgetting everything else; Lorna, Sir Alec, Lucrezia, Tia, the Institute, the Auctoritas – all the ugliness and unfairness is cleansed from my mind in favour of him.

I want everything about him; his eyes on mine, his voice in my ear, his skin touching me, his weight on top of me, beneath me, around me.

But above all things, I do not want to let go of his hand.

*

To lay in Malachy's arms beneath sweet-smelling bedsheets, my legs entangled with his, his arm draped carelessly across my hip as he nuzzles my neck behind me, is like no feeling I've ever experienced before.

I feel complete, satisfied, as if I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. If it were possible and I died right now, I would be dying the happiest I've ever been. I could say, without question, that I did everything I wanted to do and more. That I did what I thought I would never do – I found the one for me.

I cast my mind back to my first days at the Institute, my first impression of Malachy, and I splutter with laughter.

'What's so funny?' He smiles, peering over my shoulder, his blond hair scruffy and soft.

'When I first met you, I hated you.' I snort, recalling his arrogance and the way he could get so far under my skin. He grins, tracing the palm of my hand with his fingertips.

'I wasn't too fond of you either.' He smirks.

'I thought you were so arrogant,' I shake my head. 'Stunning, but arrogant.' I smile, turning over to face him so that my lips are inches from his. He plays absent mindedly with strands of my hair as he studies my face. I know he's taking in every inch of my appearance to store in his memory for when I'm gone. I know this because I'm doing exactly the same.

'And I thought you were a jumped up, scruffy little junkie from the slums of London.' He grins, laughing as I playfully punch his shoulder.

'I was, actually,' I admit, laughing with him. 'Still, we can't all have such a privileged upbringing.' I smirk sarcastically, but he he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

'Yeah, privileged. Learning six different languages at the age of four and having everything about my life governed from the clothes I wore to the way I walked.'

'I think whoever governed your fashion sense did a pretty good job.' I smile.