Vendetta Nation (Enigma Black Trilogy #2) (23 page)

“It’s okay, Celaine.” He moved to the edge of the bed. In the sliver of light that managed to stream into my room from the window, I saw him run his hand through his hair, fixing the strands that had become misplaced. “I understand, really. It’s not like I expected you to fall in love with me.”

“Love?” I asked him, perplexed. And then it dawned on me, something I should have seen in every meaningful look, every kind gesture, every protective stance, every night he stayed by my side without my having asked him in advance. “Are you…in love with me…Ian?”

He sat on the edge of the bed in silence, telling me everything and nothing all at the same time. Then, he spoke. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

“It sounds like we’re both on the same page, then,” I said softly.

Ian stood up, never turning around to face me. Perhaps he didn’t want to, or maybe things between us had changed too much for him to be able to. “Good night, Celaine,” he said. I saw his dark form take a few steps toward my bedroom door. With each of his footsteps, my heart sank further and further into the pit of my stomach.

“Ian, please,” I said, doing my best not to sound desperate. “Stay. I need you here…with me.” He paused, his body stiffening, halfway between the bed and the door. For a brief moment, I thought he’d chosen to continue his journey to his own room, as his body lunged forward ever so slightly. But then he turned and proceeded back to the bed.

He took off his suit coat and placed it on a chair near where I lay, and sat down next to me and took his shoes off, letting them fall to the floor. Despite my jumbled state of mind, my lips curled up into a grin that I was sure nothing would be able to erase.

“You have me,” he said, placing his arm around my torso. “As long as you want me around, I promise I’ll never leave you.”

I touched my hand to his, and ran my fingertips down the length of his fingers. There was something about his touch that was kind and inviting, yet a force to be reckoned with all rolled into one. “That’s not a promise that’s readily kept.”

“That’s only because you never heard it from me,” he said. The warmth of his lips touched the back of my neck. That, coupled with his arm around my body, soothed me to the point where my eyes began to grow heavy. “You need to quit thinking that everyone you care about is going to be taken from you. That’s no way to live.”

“Maybe I need it proven to me that’s not always going to be the case, because history has proven otherwise,” I answered him.

“Challenge accepted,” he chuckled. “So, don’t you want to change out of that dress? I’ll leave the room, if you want to. I promise I’ll come back.” From the tone of his voice, I knew one of his patented smirks was being flashed at the back of my head at that moment.

“No. I strangely kind of like the feel of this thing, and God knows when I’ll ever allow myself to wear something like it again, so I’m going to make the most of it while I have it. Plus, I’m too tired to move,” I yawned.

“Get some rest, then,” he said, entwining his fingers in mine. “I may be awake for a while, but I’ll stick around.”

“You’d better.”

Ian began humming a song, the melody of which I recognized from a lullaby Carol had sung to me what seemed like a lifetime ago. I listened to his harmonic voice and wondered how many times his parents—most likely his father—had sung that same song to him. My eyes grew heavier as I reflected on Ian Grant and the night we’d just had together. A night that I hadn’t had since Chase.

I wasn’t sure what would become of us, but I knew that whatever happened, our lives had been irrevocably changed with a single kiss, ensuring that our feelings for each other would never be the same again.

*****

Ian sat in one of the patio chairs on the balcony of her room, his bow tie in one hand and a cold beer he’d come across in the room’s refrigerator in the other. The unseasonably cool air was just a couple of degrees shy of freezing, but he didn’t care. It was serving a purpose, clearing his thoughts. Below him, the city lay splayed out, completely dark, hauntingly still. If he were a betting man, he’d be more than willing to wager that he was the only person within miles who was outside in the elements at this very moment.

In the bedroom behind him, he heard her breathing, a sound that would have been inaudible to those without the heightened senses he possessed. The sound of her breathing was comforting. It meant that—at that instant—she was at peace. Theoretically, it should have meant that he was at peace as well, but in reality, he was far from it. His head still swam, despite his best efforts to calm the seas. Events from the evening played and re-played as though on one continuous loop in his mind. Had he done something wrong? Was there something he should have done differently? Everything had been going so perfectly. It had been turning out to be one of the best nights of his life, and he thought that she was on the same page too. In fact, she had been on the same page until something inside her closed the book and chucked it across the room.

Granted, he hadn’t thought that they would actually have sex, but he hadn’t expected her to seem disturbed by the prospect of it either. What had the past few weeks meant to her, anyway? Before tonight, he thought he knew the answer to that question as far as he, himself, was concerned, but now he was beginning to think there was more to it.
Maybe my feelings run deeper than even I’m aware of
, he thought, tossing the idea around. He’d spent the vast majority of his life keeping others at arm’s length to keep those feelings that now raced through his system at bay. He’d kept them away for a reason. The less you feel, the less you can get hurt.

Yet unexpectedly and unintentionally, he’d let his guard down with her, and a levy had been breached because of it. Such was the price for failing to be careful. But amid those thoughts were his memories of her tonight. Just the sight of her had nearly dropped him to his knees. That, coupled with the feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, and the taste of her lips. He shook his head and stood up, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

He was tired; he could feel his body protesting every movement. Now, if he could only get his mind to settle down. Ian glanced behind his shoulder at her still figure in the bed, where there was plenty of room for one more.
Yeah, sleeping next to her is really going to help matters
. Still, he knew he would, regardless. He’d promised her he would, and after the events of the evening, he knew his heart wouldn’t allow him to betray his promise to her. Yawning, he began taking a few steps away from the railing when he heard a sharp scream emanating from somewhere within the belly of the Capitol. A sharp scream that was quickly silenced by the pop of gunfire. On the streets below, soldiers ran in unison, too perfect to be real, in the direction of the commotion.

He turned around to see Celaine still sleeping in the bed, and then walked back over to the railing, where he found his gaze transfixed at Potomac Park across the river. A sickening feeling crept over him at the thought of the possibilities tomorrow held. Had it been just a couple of months ago, he wouldn’t have cared much about the possibilities. Whatever happened would happen, just so long as it served to bring The Man in Black down with it. Now, he had something to lose if those possibilities took a turn for the worse. And that alone scared the hell out of him. He hadn’t had anything to lose since his father was alive, and he hadn’t anticipated ever allowing himself to have something that important to him ever again. But even the best laid plans have a way of diverting from their original blueprint.

Ian stepped away from the railing and entered the suite, closing the French doors behind him. Just before the doors clicked to a close, he heard a series of pops from the same direction the other one had originated. He shuddered as he thought about the soldiers and the protesters, and what surely was taking place at that moment, whether warranted or not. No matter what he did, the sound of gunfire—phantom or otherwise—wouldn’t be leaving his ears anytime soon. With a yawn, he unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped both it and the undershirt underneath it off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he undid the belt to his suit pants, stealing another look back at her.

He slipped off his suit pants, allowing them to fall to the floor, too tired to properly hang them on the chair next to his suit coat. Maybe she could sleep fully clothed, but he required a little less constriction. Then, slowly, so as not to disturb her, he climbed into the bed next to her and draped his arm around her. Searching in the dark, he found her hand and caressed his fingertips over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. Her hair smelled of something flowery—lavender, perhaps. Nonetheless, it was soothing.

“No matter what happens tomorrow, I promise you that I’ll protect you,” he spoke in a whisper. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Even now, he could feel his heart beating profoundly in his chest, though the beats had slowed somewhat. “I’ve never admitted this before,” he began again, “and considering that you’re unconscious right now, it probably doesn’t even count as an admission of anything, but I’ve wasted my entire life. At least, it was wasted up until a year ago. Up until I met you. Since my dad died, I’ve been too afraid to let myself care about anyone. I thought I was protecting myself that way. I thought I would never feel pain again if I just stuck to a ‘I don’t give a shit’ mantra. But, instead, all I’ve been doing is cheating myself. I didn’t realize that until just a few weeks ago. And now, I would rather die a thousand deaths than spend a day without your smile; a day without your laughter.” He cupped his hand over hers, easily overtaking it. “Clearly, I’ve become a sentimental idiot,” he said, his eyes growing heavy. “I’m not sure what that means exactly. Maybe I’ve completely lost my mind, or maybe it means something much deeper…”

I’m dreaming. I know I’m dreaming, but the visual imagery surrounding me is so vivid I find myself forgetting it’s not real. Flanking me on both sides are the roses from the courtyard of yesteryear, every bit as gorgeous as I remember. Except, I’m not in the courtyard, but in a garden of sorts. In front of me is a pathway made of brick that appears to lead around a corner to a destination just out of view. Curious, I begin following it, noticing for the first time that I’m wearing a dress. It’s a white dress; a formal dress. A wedding dress? Why am I wearing a wedding dress? What fresh hell has my subconscious conjured up for me tonight? And then I turn the corner and see him.

Chase is standing at the end of an endless aisle, watching me intently, with a smile on his face. A smile that every woman dreams about seeing on their future husband’s face on their wedding day. I look down at my hands where I notice a bouquet of roses, turquoise and violet in color. How they got there, I don’t know. Walking down the aisle, I am alone. Even my dreams are unable to resurrect my father.

Slowly coming into view as though emerging from a fog on either side of the aisle are our wedding guests. Most of them I recognize from Hope Memorial, and others are even more familiar. My former co-worker Veronica sits next to Travis to my left—a strange pairing that only solidifies this as being a dream in my mind. I wave at Veronica, who beams in my direction, and then I look around at the other attendees as I continue my walk.

In the front row, still several meters away from where Chase stands, Jim, Carrie, and MaKayla sit watching me admire their son and brother. Carrie dabs her eyes with a tissue, while Jim and MaKayla each smile at me wider than I ever remember seeing them smile before.

I continue my walk down the brick aisle. Although I’ve made considerable progress, Chase still appears to be miles away, as though I’m walking on a treadmill, moving, but never really getting to a firm destination. Yet, on I walk. Further down the aisle, roughly half-way between Chase and the attendees, I glance to my right and see Ian standing there, staring at me. Instead of formal attire, he’s wearing his suit, his helmet under his arm. On his face, he wears an expression I haven’t seen on him before. Pain. It wasn’t the physical pain that I’d seen in the simulator from time to time, it was a pain that cut much deeper than that. One that would leave an emotional scar no matter how much time passes or how many miles are put between now and then. He nods mournfully in my direction as though accepting his fate and the inevitable choice I was about to make.

I look from Ian back at the altar, back at Chase, whose radiant smile almost erases the devastated vision of Ian’s face from my mind. Almost. Though my heart feels light, my feet fall heavy, making my steps seem like I’m walking in slow motion. But I continue walking. And then, just as I seem to be making progress, Ian’s voice screams bloody murder from behind me.

“Celaine, watch out!”

He begins running at the altar feverishly. Perplexed, I look back at Chase, and am horrified by the image behind the fog that has lifted from behind where Chase remains standing. Our clergy has revealed himself as The Man in Black. Chase looks up, terrified, and immediately attempts to flee to safety. But as he tries to jump out of the way, something trips him up, and instead of freedom, he finds himself in The Man in Black’s homicidal arms. The Man in Black spins Chase around too quickly to be real with one of his arms placed around Chase’s neck, and his hand firmly gripping the side of his head. His intentions are obvious.

“Ian! Stop!” I plead, but my cries fall on deaf ears. Ian keeps his pace as though on autopilot. Enraged, and perhaps a tad exuberant at Ian’s defiance, and what it means for his captive, The Man in Black swiftly grips the side of Chase’s head and twists it sharply in the opposite direction. A sickening crack reverberates like ripples on a pond, dropping me to my knees. “No!” I scream in agony with an expression on my face I’m sure surpasses that of Ian’s from earlier.