Michel/Striker (17 page)

Twelve

Twelve.

No.

Seleste.

Seleste Brihoni.

The light switch has been flipped. And this is no overhead fluorescent that’s been turned on. This is a chandelier at an opera house. Grand. Exquisite. It’s all there. Everything. Right inside my mind, totally available. Card catalog, baby. My name. My family’s name. I have a sister. A dog named Guapo. He loves to run around and taunt the alligators. I am a Healer. Oh, Goddess, that’s why I met with the doctor in Miami, the one who brought me to the labs, sold me. He had medicine I needed. Medicine I was hoping to bring back—

The memory sends a wash of adrenaline running through me. My eyes open, and I stare. At the ceiling? Moonlight makes shadows on it. Or is that the pale light from a lamp? I’m in the cottage. It’s night. What happened? I’m sore. “How long…”

“Two days.”

The male voice is familiar, and sends shards of white-hot electricity into my heart. “Striker?” I sit up, too fast, and instantly feel dizzy.

“Wait, wait…shit, Twelve.” He’s beside me in an instant. “Easy.”

I look up at him in the pale amber light of a nearby lamp. “I’ve been out two days?”

He nods, his eyes thick with concern. He’s got a shadow of a beard. He looks exhausted. He’s naked. I’m naked.

I shake my head ever so gently. “Have I been asleep? In some type of coma…?”

His jaw goes tight. “No.”

I force all those amazing memories aside for just a second. Just to access what the recent past has wrought. The creature, Striker…he’s naked. I’m naked.

I glance down. I’m sore, yet satiated. My memories are there, so…

My eyes come back to his. “Oh,” is all I can say.

“Are you thirsty?” he asks. “Hungry? I can get us something.”

“No.” I’m not. I don’t know what I am exactly. “Thank you.” I’m so formal all of a sudden. I feel vulnerable. And something blankets me. A coldness, a protective shell.

He sees it, understands it, and his face goes pale.

I move away, just a few inches, but it’s enough. “Thank you for your services,” I tell him, easing the blanket to my chest. “For taking pity on me and granting my request.”

“Twelve—”

I shake my head. “No. My name is Seleste Brihoni.”

His breath catches. “You know…”

“Everything. Where I’m from. Who I am.”

“Seleste. Goddess, that’s beautiful.”

I hate the sound of it on his tongue because it makes my insides hum. Not just with desire anymore, or with hope, but with a deep sadness. We’re over. No…we never even started. What happened with Three showed—

I find his gaze again. “Olivier?” I ask, a slight panic in my voice.

Shame coats those fearsome green eyes. “He’s fine. Living in the Nurturer dorms. Wanting to see you whenever you’re ready.”

“He’s a Nurturer,” I say softly, mostly to myself. Like me. No wonder we found common ground and a friendship. My eyes cut back to Striker. “What you did to him—”

“I know.”

“It was inexcusable.”

“Yes,” he agrees.

I release a breath. I’m suddenly weary. Emotionally drained. “Look, Striker. This week was difficult on both of us. We had things to face and deal with. But your job’s over. I’m good. Healed.”
Brokenhearted
. “We’re done.”

His eyes darken and I see the cat behind them. “I don’t want it to be done.”

My heart jumps to respond in kind—or maybe that’s my cat. The feline is going to have a hard time walking away from this Hunter. I’m not looking back ever again. I have a future to see to. And he made it very clear that he’s not going to be a part of it. “I got what I needed.”

His nostrils flare. “Your memories?”

“That’s not a small thing,” I assure him. “You gave them to me, and I’ll always be grateful.”

“You’re welcome,” he says tightly.

“I hope you find happiness someday, Striker.” The words are foolish and they bring emotion to the surface—emotion I’ve pushed down to get through this quasi-breakup. And yet, I say more. Can’t help myself because this may be the last time I see this male. “If you can let go of the anger and fear that cages your heart.” I nod, bite my lip to keep the tears quelled. “You will. I know it.”

Before he can reply or touch me or show his cat, I’m scrambling off the bed. I need to get away from him before the tears come. No one gets my tears now but me.

“I’m going to take a shower. When I come out, I think you should be gone.”

“Twelve—”

I don’t look back. “That’s not who I am anymore,” I call over my shoulder. “Good luck, Striker.”

***

Striker

Dawn came early for me today. I patrolled borders with Bayon and Mal, and had a meeting with Raphael regarding my trip to the Everglades. I’d pushed the leader to delay the trip a couple of days so I could stay with Twelve—with Seleste. Goddess, that name suits her. I told him he could send someone else if he wanted to, that my place was with her. But he gave me the time, despite the danger we face, and the new concern over not only what Xavier discovered on Locke’s damaged disk drive but his belief that there might have been a copy made. It looks as though healing sick rich people with our potent blood was just the tip of the iceberg. Military involvement, super soldiers…all of that shit is coming. I need to get to the Everglades. The bayou Pantera need to gain allies for the fight ahead.

I’ve been booked on an eight o’clock flight tonight. Along with Pride and Shadow. But first I have a wrong to right.

“Your cat is pretty damn powerful, Hunter,” Olivier says when I drop down beside him near one of the massive cypress outside the Nurturer dorms.

“My cat and I are idiots,” I say. I turn to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

He nods. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but I appreciate the quick forgiveness.” I release a breath. “I haven’t acted like that since… Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever acted like that.”

The male laughs. “We do things like that, act like that, when we’re in love.”

“Love?” I say on a laugh. “No.”

Pale brows go up. “You’re serious? You’re going to deny that? You practically took my head off for caring about my friend.”

The cat inside me rakes its claws over some vital organs. “She isn’t just your friend.”

“That’s exactly what she is. We helped each other survive.” He turns to face me, fully. “What happened to us, Striker, what we did, that wasn’t fucking. And it sure as hell wasn’t making love. It was torture, devised by a brutal, ruthless piece of shit who I’m beyond thankful is dead.” His breath catches in his throat, but he presses on. “Twelve and I, we lived through that. Neither one of us wants to go back. Hell, none of the rats here want to relive that time. The future is all we see now. All we want to see.”

I’m thrown. Sickened. By myself and what this male has just said to me. To live through that and come out again. Not jaded, but hopeful.

I get it.

Fuck me. I so get it.

“I want to see that too,” I tell him. “The future.” My lips twitch. “With her.”

He smiles broadly at me. “Good.”

“Thanks, brother. For what you did.” I reach for a quick clasp of his hand.

He gives it to me, but looks confused. “What was that?”

“Helping her. Being her friend.” My chest is tight. Emotion will do that to you, I guess. It’s been a long time. “Getting her through so she could know freedom again. And,” my damn voice breaks, “so I could know her.”

Olivier nods kindly. “Just remember, no one wants to go back. Be reminded of all that was lost. At least until they can put it away for good and move on.”

“Maybe I can help with one thing that’s lost,” I say.

“What’s that?”

I push away from the tree and stand up. “Your puma. You remember him?”

The male’s eyes get watery in an instant, and he turns away. “Oh, I sure do. The king of the bayou. Massive shoulders, auburn coat. Black eyes.” He looks up at me. “But I don’t—I can’t access him.”

“That’s what Seleste said too.”

“Who’s Sel—” He pauses, then understanding dawns and he smiles. Wide. “Is that her name?”

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He nods. “Fits. I’m glad she got her memories back.”

“Me too. Just hoping I don’t become one of them.”

Olivier laughs.

I grin. I think us two could become friends. “All right now,” I say. “We’re going to find that cat.”

And with a shudder, I shift into my puma and roar.

CHAPTER 10

Seleste

I don’t have much—a few clothes, the iPad. But then again, I have everything. My memories. My mind. I know the latter might continue to fade out on me… Who truly knows the long-term effects of the experiments I was subjected to and the drugs I was given? But I’ll take it one day at a time, deal with each obstacle as it comes my way.

With my family by my side.

I zip up the bag Dr. Julia gave me and smile. Speaking to them this morning was the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. My mom cried for three solid minutes, while my father kept saying my name, over and over again.

Tears prick my eyes and I swipe them away.
Tonight. You’ll see them tonight.

I head into the living room just as there’s a knock on the cottage door. It sends both thrills and sadness to my insides. Raphael has enlisted Keira to travel with me to the Wetlands. I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind the company. It’s going to be very difficult for me to walk away from the bayou. From him…

Him. Striker.
The male who has both stolen my heart and refused it. The male who gave me my history back.

The male who is right now standing at my front door.

I stare at him, open mouthed, my heart kicking in my chest. First, because I’m surprised. And second, because he looks absolutely gorgeous in black jeans that encase his long, powerful legs, and a gray fitted T-shirt. I put my fingers to my mouth to check to see if I’m drooling.

Then quickly remove them when I remember what’s gone down between us.

“Why are you here, Striker?” I ask.

His eyes are completely pinned to mine. They’re different somehow. Not softer exactly, but maybe…vulnerable? Is that even possible?

“I’m going to take you to the airport.”

“What?” Goddess. So, he’s already heard I’m going home. Is he sad? Hurt?
Dammit, female!
Why do you care? He. Doesn’t. Want. A. Relationship.

“Bags packed? Or,” he glances past me. “Bag?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Well, you better get on that.”

“No. I’m saying that Keira’s going with me.”

He doesn’t seem even remotely surprised by this news. “Why should Keira go when I’m already taking that flight?” He leans against the doorframe, one dark brow raised.

My heart drops into my gut. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I hate that my breath has left my body. I hate what my mind is conjuring…

“The trip was already planned a week ago,” he says. “A meet and greet with your Cadejo.”

Foolish disappointment slithers through me. A planned trip. So, it’s more convenient for Striker to take me. Don’t need to use up another Hunter’s time or energy. I’m such an idiot. “I’m sure they’ll be interested to talk with you. How many days will you be there?”

“Depends.” His eyes fairly burn into mine.

I shiver. “On?”

“You.”

My heart seizes inside my chest, but I force a laugh. “What do I have to do with any of this? I’m just going home.”

He cocks his head. “I’m hoping it can be my home too.” Once again, that…vulnerability that I saw in his gaze earlier is back.

“You want to leave the Wildlands?” I ask softly.

“I want to be wherever you are, Seleste. I love you. So much it hurts. No.” He shakes his head and grins. “That’s not right at all. It doesn’t hurt. It’s the opposite of hurt. It feels amazing. So fucking good I refuse to be without it ever again.” His eyes find mine again and hold. “I refuse to be without you.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What he’s saying. My breath is caught in my lungs, and tears are burning in my eyes. This is so cruel. “Don’t,” I tell him, turning away. I leave him standing there and walk back inside the cottage.

He follows me, leaves the door open. “I have to. It’s about time I said it.”

“No, it’s not! It’s too late.”

He reaches for my arm and turns me to face him. “Never too late.” His eyes delve into mine, silently begging me to listen. “Not to tell someone how you feel about them. How you think about them every second. How you thought your heart was dead, and then they came along with their beauty and their humor and their kindness and ‘Scandal’—”

“Please, Striker.” It’s my turn to beg now, my voice breaking as tears stream down my face. “Please stop this.”

“I can’t stop, honey.” He reaches for me, gently eases me into his arms. “I’m asking you to forgive me. I’m asking you to hear what’s on my heart. How I’ve been a massive fool, so terrified of getting hurt again, that’s exactly what happened. I hurt you and I hurt me.”

I can’t speak. I’m shaking my head, wishing he would stop, praying he won’t.