90
I wake to the beat of a hard driving rain thrumming against a nearby window, and the lonesome feel of the cool length of sheets where Braxton’s body once was.
With a deeply contented sigh, I climb out of bed, and am just reaching for the silk shirt he wore the night before when he appears in the doorway with freshly brewed coffee, and says, “I definitely prefer you without it.”
In an instant, the shirt falls, the mugs are abandoned, and Braxton lures me back to his bed.
He kisses me desperately, hungrily, as though we hadn’t spent the whole night doing just that. Kissing until we were drunk with it. Kissing until I fell asleep with my lips pressed to his, secure in the warmth of his arms.
Before Braxton, I didn’t even know it was possible to kiss so much for so long and to be satisfied with only that. But being with this boy has blown open a portal to a whole new world, and unlike every other boy who came before, nothing about being with Braxton feels sloppy, rushed, or, worse, like something I’ll regret the second it’s over.
At some point during all that kissing, we mutually agreed to take things slowly. Take our time to really savor each other, get to know each other. If for no other reason than we both realized that when something is real, there’s no need to rush.
Braxton draws away, trails a finger along the line of my jaw to the tip of my chin. “I don’t want to leave you,” he says.
“Leave me?” I shift onto my elbow to better see him. “To go where?” It’s the last thing I expected to hear, and I stare at him wide-eyed, searching for answers. From what I can tell, no one leaves the island except to go on a Trip. But surely, he’s not referring to that, since Trips last only a few hours at best.
“The message came in an hour ago. There’s a potential new student—Arthur wants me to head out this afternoon.”
Potential new student.
Like I once was.
“Is that how I began?” My tone sounds more bitter than intended. “As an unwelcome notice on your slab?”
He closes his eyes for a handful of beats. “Tasha, please.” When he opens them again, his gaze pleads with mine.
I turn away, slide my legs over the edge of the bed, but he reaches for me and pulls me back to him.
“Where are you going?” he says. “Are you angry?”
I bite down on my lip. I feel small, upset for reasons I can’t begin to identify. But angry? That’s too harsh for the circumstances.
Or is it?
I think of the terrible series of events that landed me here, how hard I’ve had to work just to carve out a place for myself. And while I’m not sure I’d ever wish that on anyone, there’s still no denying the fact that in many ways, my life is so much better than I ever dreamed it could be.
Here at Gray Wolf, I have unlimited access to beautiful clothes, jewelry, fancy dinners, a sexy boyfriend, not to mention the opportunity totime travel. All of which is amazing, and in a lot of ways, it’s like living inside a fairy tale. One where you’re never allowed to leave the castle, unless you’re on a Trip, and even then, there’s still work to perform by way of thieving for Arthur.
“Hey, talk to me.” Braxton cradles my face in his hands, presses his lips from my forehead to the tip of my nose. “Tell me what you’re thinking. What are you worried about?”
I pull away, lean back against a pile of pillows, and stare hard at the gold ring on my finger, suddenly overcome with the enormity of what it really means, what I’ve become.
I want to tell him I’m alarmed by how casually he accepts Arthur’s orders to go out and fetch a recruit.
I want to tell him it’s wrong—that he should flat-out refuse.
But, in the end, I don’t say any of those things.
Partly because just yesterday, I went against Braxton’s advice and stole a bunch of jewels at Arthur’s command, so it’s not like I have any real moral high ground to stand on.
But mostly because Braxton has already grasped the look of accusation on my face. Anything I say now would only add salt to the wound.
“I gave up the idea of fighting Arthur long ago,” he says, his voice competing with the sound of rain beating against the window and a harsh crack of thunder nearby. And I’m reminded of what Jago said when he warned me about not playing by the rules.There’s no use fighting a fight that’s rigged against you.
But he also talked about never losing sight of your value, because the more they invest, the more reluctant they are to lose you.
Is that what Braxton’s doing, increasing his value?
“This is life in the gilded cage.” Braxton’s gaze is weighted with sadness, and it breaks my heart to know I’m responsible for putting it there. “We do what we’re told—and we take our pleasures when and where we can find them.” He sighs. “For a long time, I fooled myself into believing it was enough.”
His words make me pause. A door has opened, and now I have to decide whether to enter. I inhale a deep breath, and on the exhale I say, “What really happened between you and Elodie?”