Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) (19 page)

I couldn’t
deal with this now.  Push it back.  Push it away.

Mentally,
I stuffed it in the darkest cage possible and slammed the door shut.

Inhaling
deeply, shaking off the remaining affects of Grayson’s tricks and my guilt,
idiocy, and anger, all that was left from tonight’s mess was the hum of the
Imperial Mark I involuntarily gave off, and a dull ache deep in my chest that
belonged to a blonde Hammer demon.

CHAPTER 22

Stumbling
on quiet feet down the stairs, I realized I was still wearing Rowan’s sage sweater,
but it meant something more now than it had before.  More than I knew it had
before. 

I clutched
the soft material in my fists as if, if he were gone, at least I had something
of his to cling to.  It was a pathetic thought.  I hoped how I was feeling
wasn’t a prelude to my lifetime to come.

Was
this what humans suffered all the time?  Because, if so, I didn’t know how they
could stand life, feeling and hurting and wanting and breaking like this.

At
the bottom of the stairs, I stood and watched as Grayson slammed The Bookstore
door behind him without a look back.  Then Rowan’s eyes were on me, and I
forgot all about the Tempter.

“I
let it go too far,” he said, his expression detached.  “I will not cross that
line again.”

But
I wanted him to.  He’d done nothing wrong.  I liked him.  I wanted everything
he had to give.  I knew it now.  And I hadn’t made it up.  I wasn’t
hallucinating.  My imagination wasn’t that good.  He wanted me too.

I
had to assume his problem was with what happened with Grayson, so I said, “He
tricked me.”

“I
don’t care.”

Pursing
my lips, “He did that flashy-eye thing.  He took advantage—”

“I
don’t care,” he repeated, his tone quiet.  I would have felt better if he yelled. 

“Yes,
you do.” 
Just like I would care knowing you were kissing someone.  Or
someone violated you.

Though
flecks of white gold appeared in his eyes, he said flatly, “you think I’m
someone I’m not.”

“I
know who you are.”

“You
know nothing, girl.”

I
can feel…you feel betrayed.
  “Why are
you being like this?” 
Please.  Look at me!
 

“You
impose feelings onto me I do not have.”

You’re
lying.

“You
have human delusions of white knights and happily ever afters.”

I
have feelings.  For you.  Only you.
 
“Only
ever
you.  And you know it.” 
Why can’t you admit it now?

“Gray
is right.  He’s the superior male.”

“You’re
wrong.”

“Grayson
would be a good match.”

Not
for me.

“I
will return for my shift,” he said formally, and then broke my heart when he
bowed low and said, “Scion.”

No! 
You can’t…I won’t…
I telepathed, but
Rowan was already long gone.

I
cried, shameful of every tear. 

I
couldn’t do this without him. 

I
couldn’t bear an unknown future without someone being what Rowan had been for
me.  I trusted him, valued his opinion.  He didn’t have ulterior motives like
the others did.  I needed him.

Maybe
he would be normal again when he returned.  Maybe he would understand after
stepping back, giving it time.  Maybe he just needed to distance himself for a
while.

My
desperate thoughts left me unconvinced. 

You
should have been my first
, I
telepathed into the empty room, because it needed to be said even if there were
no ears to hear it.

I’m
not sure how long I stood at the foot of the stairs crying, staring after Rowan
jumped away.  But in that time, something changed in me.  Days ago, I wouldn’t
have believed a person could change so fundamentally from one instant to the
next.  Maybe a lifetime of feeling nothing and not growing at all was catching
up to me, and every experience was multiplied.  Today, I knew heartache,
rejection, and loss.

It
hardened some deep part of me.

I
knew I was naïve and inexperienced, but this was going to be the last time I
felt this kind of burning desperation.  No one had the right to make me feel
this way.

And
just like that, I was moving again.  My tears were gone.  My conviction steady
like never before.  As the hum of the Imperial Mark coming from my skin filled
the room, I drew confidence from it.  I was strong, powerful.  I was Scion, regardless
of the reasons why, despite not knowing the full weight of what that meant. 

I
wasn’t some ugly, half-caste nothing anymore.  It was time I stopped acting
like I was.

Raising
the shades over the front windows, across the street, in the same van they’d
‘napped me and Benn in a few days ago, sat Jake, the human Division agent with
the Southern drawl.  I’d seen the van a few times in the past few days, though
it was the Razer in me that put it to memory, kept the idea of them watching in
the back of my mind so I was prepared for whatever might come.  Because that
was her way now.  Calculating.  Strategic. 

I
wondered how they’d driven the thing here with the roads caked with ice. 
Actually, the roads were probably cleared by now, at least cleared enough for
main road travel.  That wasn’t what was important.  I’d made this decision.  I
was going to follow through with it.

They
had information that might come in handy.  They wanted to align with me, use me
for their political gain, or whatever Division would want out of joining forces
with the new Scion.  We might be of use to each other.

Pulling
out Jake’s business card, and punching the number into my cell phone, I watched
out the front window as Jake answered my call.

“I
see you,” I said before he spoke.

The
human male laughed without humor.  “I see you too, half-caste.”

“Look,”
I snapped.  “It’s Savannah, Savvy, or Ms. Cole if you have to be formal.  Call
me half-caste in that tone again and I’ll make your brain melt out your ears.”

There
was silence on the other end, and I watched as the human squirmed.  “Can you do
that?”

Grinning,
I said, “You know, I don’t know.  But I’ve had a bad night.  Push me and you get
to help me find out.”

“All
right,” Jake swallowed, “Savannah.”

Without
wasting any more time, I said, “I’m ready to hear your proposition now.”

“Director
Pakala would like you to visit her at Division, if you have the time.”

I
had the time.  I had all the time.  The Bookstore was closed.  That was where
my responsibilities here ended.  It would be easy to disappear.  Would anyone
even attempt to look for me?  Or would they be better off?  As long as I told
Benn where I was, I could probably vanish until further notice. 

“Can
I trust your director?  And you?”

“Will
anything I say convince your demon half you can trust anyone from Division?”

I
laughed.  Of course not.  And I’d never heard someone refer to the two parts of
a half-caste like I always did.  Before, she did feel like a separate
creature.  But my demon half was a part of me.  She was me. 

“Indulge
my human half then.”

“I
will return you here tomorrow night in the same condition you are in now.”

Well
worded.  I wondered if Division had a
How to
Convince Demons
guide or something.

“Fine.”

“Pack
an overnight bag.  I’ll wait here.”

He
wouldn’t come into The Bookstore, probably because of my sentries.  It made me
wonder if he knew Grayson was the demon who had roughed him up a few days ago.

I
knew I should have been wary of getting into a van with a human who kidnapped
me and planned to hold my best friend as “motivation”.  But I was sick of
sitting around, waiting.  This was something I could do, on my own. 

And
I was Scion.  They weren’t likely to want to kill me.  Probably.

I
wasn’t safe, but I needed to make this decision for myself.  I needed to start
moving forward instead of standing still.

Since
I couldn’t stand wearing any of my clothes anyway, I packed very little.  A
toothbrush, my cell phone.  The clothes on my back.  That was pretty much all I
needed. 

The
reality of needing almost nothing cleared my head.  My things were only
things.  I had myself.  I’d text Benn from the road.  I’d talk to Dad if he called.

Grayson
and Cyrus wouldn’t come after me.  Not after what I did to the Tempter.  And
Rowan didn’t want to come after me.  He didn’t want me. 

I’d
get over my crush, with him gone.

Pulling
my shoulders back, I reminded myself what I felt for Rowan was new, was
innocent and those sorts of things were fleeting.  I tried convincing myself
that what I felt for him was immature and silly.  It would pass with time.

I
would be determined to forget him.

In
that moment, as I locked The Bookstore and walked cautiously across the ice patched
sidewalk, I knew I needed this.  Go to Division, possibly risk my life, and do
it because I’d decided to do something for once. 

For
me. 

Director
Pakala was stationed at the Division location in Chicago.  With Jake’s private,
toy plane he had standing by—no waiting, no security, no little bag of peanuts
either—we were airborne less than an hour after leaving The Bookstore.

I’d
never been on a plane before.  The little toy that was my first experience
probably wasn’t my best introduction.  I had to picture flying with Connell to
keep from freaking out, but at least I was preoccupied and no longer obsessed
with feelings for a blonde Hammer demon.

Jake
Snow, Division agent and amateur tiny-plane pilot, wasn’t a talkative human.  Getting
a last name and a destination out of him was a chore.  Though he unabashedly
checked out my body, paying indecent attention to my braless chest, the human
had little interest in making even polite conversation during our time
together.

The
human also didn’t seem hurt in any way.  When my former sentries attacked the
van Jake and Holly kidnapped us in, I was sure they couldn’t have walked away
without a scrape.  But Jake appeared entirely unharmed.  For some reason, I
felt impressed.

When
my feet touched asphalt after we landed, my knees wobbled, but I hoped I hid it
well.

We
pulled into the gated, impossibly long driveway only an hour later.  When
fully-fueled modes of transportation were awaiting our arrival everywhere we went,
it made traveling extraordinarily quick and easy.

It
was the middle of the night.  Maybe two o’clock.  But I wasn’t tired.  All of
my synapses were firing, adrenaline and a sense of fierce independence making
me ultra observant, not exactly tense, but extremely aware.

Maybe
I was stupid to have thought Division would be what I imagined it to be.  Maybe
I’d read too many books.  But when I’d imagined an underground military bunker
with armed humans wearing camouflage and abusing demons, I got a house with
families, both human and demon.  When I’d imagined sterile laboratories and
locked doors housing sinister monsters and corrupt experiments, I got lush
carpets and the lap of luxury.  And so far, I hadn’t noticed one locked door.

Holly
waited for us in the dining room, the table filled with food.  They were
pulling out all the stops, and the beautiful blonde human with her hazel eyes
fighting against slitting at the sight of me wasn’t enjoying it at all.

I
didn’t miss that she didn’t even glance in Jake’s direction.  Not sure why, but
her refusal to meet Jake’s eyes convinced me they were romantically involved.

“You
don’t have to be nice to me, Holly,” I told the female, and she made a
fine-by-me face, and left the room.

Jake,
shaking his head—though his eyes darted after his partner—took up Holly’s spot
and held his hands out in a dramatic shrug.

“Holly
sent me in to…” a young male said as he entered the room, twirling a pencil
between his fingers.  When he saw me, he stopped, and the pencil fell to the
floor.  “Then it’s true.”

Half-caste,
my demon side knew immediately, as if she could feel it radiating off him, like
he could hear the hum radiating off me.  I studied the boy, his freckles and
curly hair the color of cinnamon making him look younger than he probably was. 
Keeping that in mind, I guessed his age to be around fourteen or fifteen. 

He
smiled, a sweet, human smile, and I saw his fangs.  Four, pointed canines a
little too long to be a normal human’s.  And a presence that hinted at danger,
though I couldn’t figure out if it had anything to do with his appearance
whatsoever.  And a feline grace in his lithe, delicate movements.

He
was a half-caste Hammer demon.  A thread of feeling twisted around my heart,
but I was determined to ignore it.

Any
second now, I’d get over this crush.  Any second now…

“Savannah,
this is Sam,” Jake announced, inching toward the door.

“It’s
nice to meet you,” the kid said, his initial shock completely gone.  I liked
him instantly.  “I’m here to…er…entertain you, I guess.”

“You’re,
like, Division liaison?” I asked, only half kidding.  I couldn’t help but think
he should be asleep in bed, or at least doing homework, not showing me around a
covert government facility.

Sam
laughed, and before Jake flitted out of the room through the same door Holly
used, he tousled the half-caste’s curly hair.  The casual act surprised me.

“Holly…but
Mrs. P probably made her…” Sam scratched his freckled nose, and leaned against
the food-filled table, “said she wanted you to see what we do here.  Guess they
thought you’d be more comfortable with…someone like me.”

Someone
like us,
I telepathed proudly to the
male.  The shock hit his face, then spread into a smile.  He was a half-caste. 
No one had ever been able to telepath with him before.

I
was careful not to project the strong sense of worry I had for how Division
treated him.  Did they act like Sam was different?  Did they spit
half-caste
at him whenever he walked by?

But
I’d seen Jake mess up the kid’s hair.  It gave me hope.
 

“What
do you want to do first…er…Scion?  Miss Cole?  Uhh…your highness?”

“Savvy,”
I said firmly once I stopped giggling.  Sam nodded, his hint of tension loosening
right away.

“Cool,”
the young male said, swiping a doughnut from the table and stuffing the entire
thing into his mouth before saying, “So?  Eat, shop, or spar?”

My
eyebrows drew in because I was sure I heard wrong.  “Shop?”

He
swallowed the doughnut. “We have a stash of clothes that might…ya know…work
better than the male’s sweater you’re wearing.”

Blushing,
and missing the days when my every emotion wasn’t written all over my face, I
pushed out the thought of being in Rowan’s arms before muttering, “Anything
else is too uncomfortable.”

“That’s
been taken into consideration,” Sam said, his chipperness contagious. 

“Did
you say spar?”

“Razer,”
he pointed at my head.  “You need an outlet for your…uh…pent-up…whatever.  You
need a fight.”

Was
this something I should have known?  Before Hadrian lifted my glamour, I never
fought.  I went to Dmitri’s class, got used as a punching bag, but I never
really fought.  All the fighting I did was against the smoke-and-fire place
inside me.  Did that count?

At
my silence, Sam asked, “You mean your guards haven’t trained with you?”

“Not
that kind of training.”

Boy,
I would have liked sparring with them.  Especially with…

Shaking
my head, not wanting to think about Rowan, I went to the table, grabbed a
cheese Danish, and took a big bite before saying with my mouth full, “Clothes,
then spar.”