Hold Me Never (Holding Never) (28 page)

I sway as blood spews from my shoulder. I am losing too
much blood, too fast.

But my angel is here. For me.

He came back, like he promised.

I smile. I feel strong. With him right here by my
side, I can do anything.

Steadying my hand, I raise the dripping knife and take
careful aim.

The knife flies towards the Emperor, straight towards
his heart. Open-mouthed, the Emperor watches the knife hit him with
a loud metallic clink and drop to the floor. A breastplate hidden in
his union suit. The corner of his mouth curls in a victorious smile
just before Jaxon charges at him.

“
Traitor!” the Emperor screams as Jaxon's
large hands close around his neck. “Treason...” he
wheezes, his eyeballs popping. “...against your liege...”

“
You are not my liege!” Jaxon roars, his
voice ragged as he smashes the Emperor against the wall.

“
Y-you...will b-be put to...d-death, Commander!”
the Emperor sputters as his eyes roll back.

“
I will kill you first!” Jaxon grates,
slamming his fist into the Emperor's face.

As Jaxon attacks the Emperor in a blind rage, the
Emperor's hands flail wildly around, fluttering against the wall
behind him until his palm closes over a squarish, gold tile.

He fashions his pale, shivering hand into a fist and
punches that gold tile. The Emperor raises his battered face to look
at Jaxon. One of his eyes is swollen shut, but the other eye glints
in triumph.

His bloodied lips crack into a wide smile.

Alarms and sirens blare through the Palace. I clap my
bloodstained hands over my ears to block out the piercing, escalating
wail of hundreds of alarms.

But even through all those deafening, paralyzing alarms,
I can make out running footsteps and shouts.

Jaxon releases the Emperor's neck as he backs swiftly
away. The Emperor slides down the wall, coughing and clutching his
throat. His eyes follow Jaxon, his face contorted in a crooked
smile.

“
You will hang, Commander Ryleth,” he
wheezes. “But I'll see that you are thoroughly tortured
first!”

Jaxon pays him no heed as he reels and staggers over to
me. “Zoey, oh God!” He swallows and grits out, “Bear
with it...for a while more. Hold on to me, Zoey. Hold me!”

I manage a quick nod as he removes his jacket and
bundles me in it. Dragging a weapon from his side, he shoots
repeatedly at my shackle until it falls away from my leg. I wrap my
arms around his neck and cling to him as he gathers me up. Turning
to the broken window, he takes a running leap and hurtles through it
just as palace guards burst into the chamber.

I suck in a breath, bracing for impact.

But the landing is painless.

I blink up to see that Jaxon has landed on a hovering
motorcraft. He arranges me so that I am seated in front of him, his
arms caging me in safely.

I glance back to see the drapes pull back from the
window just above the Emperor's chambers.

An impassive face appears at the window. The Empress.

Her chambers are above his. She is the one on top. At
the very top.

Revving the engine, Jaxon veers sharply to the side and
speeds away from the Palace.

Leaning back against his chest, a memory detaches itself
from the cyclone in my mind. I am reminded of the first time Jaxon
held me against him in his arms. We were on horseback, riding
restlessly through the night. It had been a night just like this
one. Filled with danger, disbelief and dread.

But that first night had been muted with an ominous
quiet. An unspoken fear and sorrow. The words
I am sorry
had
hung like a pall over us. It had been tormenting and heartrending,
resignation and resentment warring in our chests.

But tonight is different. The quiet of the night is
shattered by the sounds of weapons, engines and screaming sirens.
The air around us is sliced by bullets, darts and grenades. A
fireball blooms in front of us. My mouth opens in a silent scream as
the motorcraft jerks to the side and spins through the air. Jaxon
grunts as he struggles to regain control of the spiraling motorcraft.
I am rocked from side to side, but Jaxon's strong arms barricade me
in securely. Skilfully steering us past obstacles and explosions,
Jaxon keeps his eyes trained forward as he hunches over me, shielding
me with his body. I glance down to see a patch of red blossoming on
Jaxon's leg as we zigzag away.

“
We have to go faster,” I whisper into the
rushing wind.

As if he'd heard me, Jaxon leans in and presses his lips
against my temple. “Hold me,” he says. “Don't let
go.”

I grasp his arm fiercely. “I won't. I won't let
go,” I promise.

He breathes in sharply, as if drawing strength and
resolve from my touch. The engine roars with power as Jaxon kicks it
into overdrive.

I am pushed against his chest by the air pressure as we
streak forward. I close my eyes, fighting the tremors coursing
through my body. Dimly, I feel the countless twists and turns we
take, finally veering sharply away towards a steep, rocky hill.

The whine of pursuing engines and the stench of gunfire
and blood gradually fade behind us as Jaxon weaves expertly through
the jagged terrain and disappears into the shadows of deep valleys
and hills.

Instead of the monstrous roar of engines and spitting
guns, I become aware of only the rushing wind and soft, rustling
sounds. Like the rustling of leaves or grass.

Jaxon finally slows down, so that we are no longer
hurtling along at breakneck speed. I snuggle into his chest, feeling
so very tired, but so safe.

When we shudder to a stop at last, I crack my eyes open
to see that we are in the dark, silent embrace of a dense forest. I
crane my neck to look over Jaxon's shoulder. There is nothing but
shadows.

I let out a long, shuddering breath and let my head fall
back. Jaxon catches me as I slump against him. “Are they
gone?” I whisper.

He nods. “For now.”
But not forever.

“
We have to go faster,” I repeat as my
eyelids droop.

He hugs me to him, clutching me tightly to his heart. I
can feel his strong, frantic heartbeats, thundering hard against
mine, which are growing slower and weaker with every shallow breath I
take.

As I reach up to touch his grim, handsome face, I feel
inordinately grateful for this last vision of my angel.

The darkness that claims me is like none that I have
known. It is deeper than sleep, and much, much darker than night.

Voices float in and out of the moving shadows.
Unfamiliar voices, speaking in hushed, urgent tones.

When the voices fade away, images begin to flash at the
back of my throbbing eyelids. Stark, psychedelic images, caricatures
of people I know, people who are now dead. I saw them die, right
before my eyes.

I can see the painting of the Emperor on the wall,
coming to life, his face turning slowly to me. The writhing Sirens
beneath his feet morph into snakes, hundreds and thousands of
slithering, rippling snakes. As the snakes overflow and spill out of
the wall, Mam Mallisa is doing a hypnotic, haunting dance in the
middle of the Great Hall. She twirls and twists through ribbons of
blood, throwing sweets and candies at the guests. But those are not
really sweets. They are severed fingers, toes, ears and eyeballs.
The Generals laugh as they feast on the bloody body parts. Faces
swim in a circle, going round and round and round. The scene dims
and I am no longer in the Great Hall. I am in Jaxon's bedroom. My
eyes are closed but I can feel his lips on mine. Warmth and softness
surround me, and I find myself on my back, in his bed. I am lying
beneath him as he makes love to me. With a sigh, I open my eyes, but
I don't see Jaxon. Instead, I am alone. Out of the shadows, the
Emperor emerges, wielding a whip. I try to run but I find myself
shackled to the corner of the bed, snakes writhing all around me,
closing in on me, their forked tongues flicking out menacingly. I
stare into those cold, beady eyes, and see my own terrified
reflection. I feel the blade of a knife against my throat, and hear
the echo of a shrill, taunting laugh. My laughter, mingled with the
Emperor's.

More voices join in.

Through the chorus of mangled voices, I recognize one.
Desperately, I latch on to his voice, clinging on to it like a
lifeline. I won't let go. This is my only hope, my lifeline that
will pull me to the surface and save me

“
Jaxon!” My hand reaches out in the
darkness.

And find his.

My eyes snap wide open. “Jaxon!”

“
I'm here, I'm right here, Zoey.” I hear
Jaxon's soothing voice and blink hard to see his face.

He catches my struggling hand and presses it to his
lips. The softness and warmth of his lips against my skin calms me
down, and I stop flailing.

Jaxon kneels before me so that I can see him clearly.
His lips tremble into a smile, but his eyes are sunken and he looks
worn and gaunt. Gently, he strokes the feeling back into my hand,
assuring me that we are both alive.

I relax a little, turning my face to the side. I am
lying on my front, on a firm surface. My eyes widen and I twist
around, craning my neck to stare up at a plain, cracked ceiling. A
single, naked bulb flickers above me. No chandeliers? No gilded
walls and pillars? No glass panels covered with hissing snakes?
Where am I?

My entire body is throbbing with pain, like thousands of
burning needles stabbing into every nerve in my broken body.

Slowly, I bring my hand up to my face. My arm is
covered with fresh bruises and wounds. Some of these wounds look
deep, like chunks of my flesh have been ripped out. I see a deep cut
on the back of my hand, and ugly, red marks and stripes across my
palm and wrist. Whip marks.

The image of the Emperor whipping me endlessly, smirking
as my blood spatters across his white union suit slams into my mind.
With a strained sound, my trembling fingers find my throat, and I
feel a thick bandage around my neck and shoulder.

I try to push myself up but my arms give way under my
weight.

“
He...killed her,” I wheeze. “I saw
him! He wanted to kill me...”

“
Shhh. You're safe now, Zoey.” Jaxon
smooths my hair back from my face. “Just rest.”

“
No, you don't understand. It's not safe. We're
not safe!”

“
I know, I know. But it's all right now. You are
safe, Zoey.”

I shiver as beads of cold sweat track down my back and
face. I glance down my body to see that I am dressed in a thin
loose-fitting gown, much like an operating gown.

“
You're safe here.”

“
Here?” I stare around the bare walls and
small, empty room. “Where is here?” I croak.

“
We are...”

“
Here is a secret place,” a voice cuts Jaxon
off. “A secret, safe place.”

A tall, blond woman walks in. She looks to be in her
early thirties, with steely gray eyes, high cheek bones and
unsmiling, full lips. Her short hair is sleeked back behind her
ears, and if not for the muddy fatigues she is wearing, I could well
have mistaken her for a model. She is statuesque, beautiful, but
there is no mistaking the air of purpose and authority she exudes.

“
Hello, Zoey, I'm glad to see you're awake. My
name is Irin, and I'm the leader of this cell.”

Cell?

Cell?
My eyes round as I suck in a breath.
Am
I back in the dungeon?

She ignores my whimpers. Instead, she says pointedly to
the back of Jaxon's head, “Now that you are awake, perhaps
Leader Jaxon can function again. He has not been eating or sleeping,
just staying here by your side. We've lost a lot of time. Three
days and three nights.”

“
I...I've been sleeping for three days?” I
mutter in confusion, staring at Jaxon.

“
Well, since you're better,” Irin trains her
appraising, no-nonsense eyes at me. “You will have to fight.
We will train you. If you want to be part of this resistance cell,
you'll have to fight.”

“
Fight?” I jerk. “For what?”

Irin exhales heavily and squints at Jaxon. “She
doesn't know? She doesn't know who you are?”

When Jaxon doesn't reply, she shakes her head and stalks
from the room. “You'd better tell her, and tell her fast,”
she says grimly over her shoulder. “She will have to start
training—very soon.”

For a long while after Irin leaves, Jaxon sits by my
side, without speaking, without moving. He seems to be working up
the courage to tell me something, everything. I stare at the
furrowed lines on his forehead, the hard planes of his stark,
tormented features. I keep looking at him, but he either can't or
won't meet my eyes.