Darkside Sun (8 page)

I hugged myself harder. “Don’t you know that’s like the biggest faux pas you can make? Never ask a lady her dress size or her age. It’s, like, a rule.”

“Since you’re more redneck than lady, I have nothing to worry about then.” He smiled, smug and look-at-me-aren’t-I-funny. Not.

“Hardy-har-har. And what’s this
we
business? And why do we need to make an impression? And to whom?” God, why did it seem like the hotter the guy, the bigger the douche? And why did a flock of butterflies let loose whenever he smiled like that? Maybe I just needed an antacid.

“What size?” His grin disappeared, and he leaned toward me for a moment before righting himself and thrusting his hands into the pockets of his pants. What was his problem now?

“Six, but sometimes an eight depending on how big it is across the chest and hips—happy?” I had curves, ones I tried to hide most of the time.

“Asher’s never happy,” Sophia offered. When he turned and headed for her, she squealed and sped into the maze of hangers.

I considered going out the door, but without knowing where to go or how to get back to the true reality fast enough to do it before he caught me, the odds weren’t in my favor. Not to mention I wouldn’t risk losing my memories for anything, and I still needed to know how to deal with the wraiths, or I’d be useless anyway.

Mr. Hotness Assassin already seemed to be teetering on the edge of sanity tonight. Or maybe he was always like that.

A few minutes later, he returned with a garment bag draped over his arms like a sleeping woman. Or a dead one. Yeah, like I needed that thought in my head. Through the plastic covering, I made out what I thought to be a dress. He stopped in front of me, brow scrunched. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“I am not wearing a dress. I thought you were … I don’t know … going to put me through some testing for fitness or something. I’m a jeans girl. Even one of those outfits you’ve got on would be better than that thing you’ve got there. I’ve never worn a dress, not once.”

“Then this will begin a night of firsts for you.” He thrust the hanger out. “Put it on or—”

“Or you’ll put it on me, I get it. Are you always this dramatic?” I took the damn dress and bundled it in my arms. “You boot. Me ant. I get it already.”

He cocked his head, squinting. “Boot? What are you blathering on about?”

“I don’t blather.” I spied Sophia peeking out from between two of the hangers on the rack. My mind went on walkabout at the sight of her. She hadn’t been out of the building, not for ten years. How did she not lose her mind?

Maybe I couldn’t get away just yet, but maybe I could give Sophia a little break from her life and have someone I actually liked by my side. “It seems like there’s some protocol to whatever this thing is we’re going to. I’m not going unless Sophia comes with me. You don’t tell me anything, and she’s already started to educate me so I don’t look like a total knob tonight.”

Sophia shook her head frantically, waving me off.

When he glanced over his shoulder at her, arms crossed, I added, “And no, she didn’t tell me any of your precious secrets—just the stuff you should have been telling me about, like your no-touchy rules, so don’t get all pissy. She never asked to come, but I’m not going without her.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to fight me at every turn?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Because I guess you’re not just another pretty psycho prof-type.”

Clearly ignoring Sophia’s quiet laughter, he seemed to consider what I’d said, thoughts passing over his artist-rendered features. “There is some merit to what you say, I’ll admit that. I’ll have to speak to the Colonel and observe other protocol, and I’d rather you not be left alone with the other sentinels.”

“You mean with Marcus,” Sophia said, a little flint in her tone.

“Who’s Marcus?” I asked, nodding when she mouthed “later” at me. “Never mind,” I said. “So, she can come?”

“Fine, she may come. You’ve got ten minutes to be dressed and ready. I’ll be waiting in the common room for you, Plaid, as soon as you’re dressed.” He gave me another toes-to-nose inspection, strode out the door, and shut it behind him.

I still had to go, apparently, but somehow if Sophia would be with me, it didn’t seem like such a horrifying idea. It seemed too easy, though. Something pinged at my brain that I’d missed something within that negotiation, but I couldn’t figure it out.

Chapter 9

I stood before a wall of mirrors in a well-lit room next to the giant closet. The tight bodice of the dress pinched. Corset-style, Sophia had called it while zipping it up the back, with narrow straps just wide enough to cover my bra. I’d had to suck everything in for her to get it closed, and once she did, I might as well have been breathing with half a lung. Gah, did people really wear this stuff all the time? Fashion … right. More like modern-day torture.

The shimmering white skirt flowed out around my hips, fabric unknown. Something soft and light, like wearing cloth woven of air. White satin gloves crawled up my arms almost to my armpits. So I didn’t forget and accidently touch anyone skin-to-skin, so I’d been told. Not that I believed anyone could die from touching. There had to be some mistake, or maybe Asher was just being overly dramatic again.

The makeup she’d applied in a hurry made my honey-brown eyes appear darker behind my lashes. My lips were deep red against my ivory skin, and my hair billowed down my back like a spill of espresso. I didn’t recognize myself, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. I looked great, I just didn’t look like me. Dad wouldn’t have approved.

“So, what do you think?” She met my gaze in the mirror, grinning.

I turned sideways, surprised I appeared slender in the right places and even more endowed than reality in others. “If I could breathe it would be much better. And what’s with the white? I look like
King Kong’s
virgin sacrifice.”

Oh, damn. The book had taken a blood sacrifice to make it open. “The color has significance, doesn’t it?”

Chuckling, but not like she was happy, she shoved her thumb over her shoulder. “I need to put on my thing. See you out there. Asher will be down the hall, last door at the end. Don’t wait for me.” She narrowly missed ramming into the door with her butt, and then whirled and ran face-first into it. “Meant to do that.” She went out and left me.

Only Asher’s threat to take my memories kept me from freaking right the hell out. Images of me chained in some circle of ruins waiting for the giant gorilla to come and snatch me up flitted through my brain before I shoved them into the don’t-be-stupid bin. They were not going to hurt me. I was pretty sure the Machine wanted me to work for them. I wouldn’t leave my life behind, of course, but they could have their little meet and greet. At least that was my theory on what tonight would be. Asher said we needed to make an impression. So I’d make one and get out of here.

Shoulders back, my trembling nearly stopped, I walked across the tile in high-heeled shoes that must have had stilts as cousins. Girly shoes and I had never been good friends. I’d take my hiking boots every time if given a choice. If Asher had burned those along with the rest of my clothes, I’d kick his ass. Well, I’d think about kicking his ass, anyway, since he could probably make me say “uncle” without even touching me.

I poked my head through the doorway and glanced into the brightly lit hallway full of closed doors. The end seemed a mile away as I eased out. My heels clicked against the floor as I went. And went and went. What did they keep behind so many doors? Did all of the guardians live here? Or maybe Asher kept his torture implements behind them. Most of them were dark underneath the raw metal, no light spilling out to give a hint that anyone was home inside.

My curiosity just wouldn’t sit still, so I stopped and tried the handle of a door with a gold handle. Locked. The next three were the same.

Could I use the Shift to get into another room? I stood there for a second, wondering how I might find out. I’d never been on the other side of the door, and with no image to draw from, I wasn’t sure how to make it happen. Maybe Sophia would tell me.

Finally I made it to the only door glowing with light around the edges, and since it was at the end, I figured Asher would be inside. Maybe I should have walked slower.

Somehow I felt more naked and vulnerable with the dress on than when I’d only had on the bra and panties. Stupid and irrational. With quiet horror, I realized I wanted him to be impressed, and I had no idea why I cared. The guy was an egotistical brute in a pretty package.

I jacked open the door, glad it didn’t screech and moan like the one in the AL. A golden glow spotlighted me from lamps dotting a room that appeared part kitchen, part living room, part entertainment room. Was this where Sophia spent her time? As far as islands went, it could have been worse.

I stepped inside, taking in the intimate group of beige sofas arranged around the giant TV mounted on the wall above a gas fireplace. Did they have a satellite that could broadcast to this false reality? A pool table sat in the far corner with one of those fancy green glass lights hanging from the ceiling above it. Beside it, there were two old-fashioned pinball machines blinking multicolored lights into the dim part of the room.

I turned toward the lit kitchen area. There was a giant, rectangular oak table long enough to seat about twenty, with benches on either side. That couldn’t only be for Sophia, so at least some of the other members of the Machine had to live in the gray maze. A serving window allowed a glimpse into the kitchen, too dark to make out much other than a stainless-steel fridge.

Asher stepped out of a doorway beside the serving window, a small tumbler of amber-colored booze in his hand. He stopped when he noticed me. Pulled a statue while his gaze roved over me from nose to toes. Too much silence. Too much staring. My face turned into a hot plate.

“Stop gawking and say something,” I said, itching for something to hide behind. Or to hold my own peep show of him in his sexy uniform. Both desires were equally strong.

He made a sound that could have been laughter, which seemed to touch those places in me that had begun waking up lately. “You clean up all right, Plaid,” he said, humor rich in his voice.

A frown tugged my face all askew. “If that’s your way of telling me I look nice, then it was pathetic.” Quickly, I added, “Not that I give a lily white crap what you think of me, anyway. And stop calling me that. I can’t believe you burned my favorite shirt.”

“That shirt was hideous; get over it. Now, walk for me.” A flick of his fingers pointed me to the sofa huddle.

“What? Why?” I could hardly walk in the stupid heels without sprawling butt-first on the floor. Graceful, I wasn’t, and it would only be worse with him watching.

He came to me, circling around behind. My hair shifted across my back, making me shiver, before he returned to face me. Had he touched my hair? It wasn’t skin, so it probably wasn’t dangerous, but why would he do that? “The clothes no longer give you away as small-town. I want to make sure you can pull it off.”

“You’re just full of insults, aren’t you?” I shook my head and ignored the warmth growing in my belly at the possibility of him wanting to touch me. “What is your problem with small towns? If you’re a big-city boy, and you’re representative of the attitude, then I’m damn glad of where I grew up.”

Sipping his drink, he jerked his other hand toward the sofas again. “Walk.” How he could put so much punch and command in one word, I’d never know.

I walked. Wobbled, whatever. I made it to the sofa without falling down. Yay, me. “Happy?” I whirled around to face him again.

“Confidence, Plaid. That outfit needs confidence. Be bold, aggressive. Believe you belong in that dress. Make everyone believe it.” He licked his lips as he stared at me, and I almost moaned before I locked it in my throat. Idiocy. He did not want me that way; he probably just needed to break out his lip balm again.

Bold and aggressive, yeah that was so me. Not. “What, are we going to strut our stuff in Milan or something?” I tossed up my hand, frustration a hot simmer in my gut. “Who gives a flying monkey butt how I walk?”

“Impressions. Confidence is strength. You stink of fresh meat. You stink of weakness. I don’t want anyone you’ll meet tonight to think of you as weak.”

I wasn’t weak, except for my knees when I was around him, but I didn’t bother arguing with him. I thought about why my strength mattered and couldn’t come up with a reason. “Why?”

He gave me a come-hither finger. “Again. Head up, shoulders back. Make me shiver.”

Why did he have to say it like that, all sexy? My insides melted like chocolate under a flame. Like I could ever make someone like him shiver, anyway, but I strutted my stuff again and again. By the time he’d finished with my walking lessons, my feet ached, and if I frowned any harder, my lips would fall clean off my face.

“It’ll have to do,” he said from where he’d lounged back on one of the sofas, his second glass of whiskey empty. He didn’t seem convinced. That made two of us.

Sophia arrived in an outfit identical to Asher’s, except hers was a charcoal gray instead of black, and her pinstripes were black. Not as shiny or flashy, but it still made a statement of “don’t mess with me.” She’d twisted her multi-toned hair up and stuck two black chopsticks crisscrossed to hold it in place. With her hair back and a bit of makeup to bring out her eyes, she went from pretty to beautiful.

I frowned harder. My lips didn’t fall off. “Why are you two wearing those neat outfits and I’m stuck in this thing? I feel like I dressed for the prom to go to war.”

“It’s time to go.” Asher rose to his feet and stretched, his little groans causing exquisite aches in my deep places. A grin curved his lips as if he’d read my mind and liked the effect he had on me. Yeah, right. “Have you secured the facility?” he asked Sophia.

“All set.” She shifted foot to foot. Nervous or excited? I didn’t know her well enough to tell. “What are my orders?”

Orders? She did call herself a soldier. Still, it seemed so strange and formal and … military.

“You will stay with Plaid at all times when she’s not with me. Never leave her for a moment, for any reason, unless I tell you to.”

I wanted to ask what concerned him so much that I needed a bodyguard, but Sophia spoke before I could. “What if Marcus orders me away from her? He outranks you, so I have to obey him before you.”

Well, color me intrigued.

Asher went visibly stiff, arms steel rods at his sides. Inch by inch, the starch went out of him. More and more interesting. “You let me worry about Marcus,” he said as if each word had pried his teeth open. “If he interferes, you come straight to me. Understood?”

She bent at the waist. It wasn’t a full bow, like an actor after an encore, but the half-bow a martial arts student would give the sensei after a lesson.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked. “I need to know what’s going to happen tonight and why I’m wearing white.” I’d be an accountant before I’d be some sort of virgin sacrifice.

“The white’s traditional,” Asher said. “And what you’re supposed to do is whatever I tell you.”

Well, there you go. I saved my breath for an argument I stood a chance of winning. “And you’ll let me go home after?”

He faced me head on, and the serious look he slapped me with sucked the air out of the room. “This is home. The moment you opened the bible, there was no going back.”

My shaking started up again, beginning in my knees and rattling upward. “But you threatened to hurt me if I didn’t read it. I tried to give it back, but you didn’t give me a choice. Now you’re saying because I read the book, that’s it? I’m one of the goddamn freak brigade?”

Turning to Sophia with a smile, he said, “I believe she’s starting to catch on.”

“You bastard,” I ground out. No, hell no. I would find a way off Asher’s crazy train. “I have plans, things I’m going to do with my life. This, whatever it is, isn’t one of them. I’ve spent my life trying not to see, in blissful denial that none of it was real, and I’ll go back to that. I won’t let you take my life away from me because you’re used to getting what you want. I’ll go to this thing, whatever, and then I’m out of here.”

He reached for me, and we were done arguing.