Sovereign (Sovereign Series) (28 page)

Across
the room, Dylan coughs, getting my attention.  I glance sidelong at him, but
keep the young leader in clear view.  From what I can tell, Dylan is unharmed
and he’s not being restrained.  He’s simply sitting with his back against a
wall and his knees drawn in front of him.

“My
name is Tyce.”  He looks me over with an eyebrow cocked.

“Good
for you.” 

He
laughs so loud it echoes through the hollow sounding room.  Grinning, he
scratches his top lip and shakes his head.  He glances over his shoulder at
Dylan.  “She’s feisty, man.  Love it.”  Dylan nods, but doesn’t return the
grin.  Tyce returns his attention to me.  “I thought you might introduce
yourself.  It would be the civilized thing to do.”

“You
run with savages, I didn’t think civil was a trait you’d care for.”

“Is
that what they call us?”  He still smiles despite the subject matter.

I
feel stupid and hope the blush in my cheeks doesn’t show in this dark room. 

“Hmm.” 
He runs his hand through his shaggy, black hair, which is wet, I presume from a
recent shower.  I almost laugh at the thought of savages bathing.  “So.  I’m
sure you know we killed a group of soldiers in front of the house where we
found you.  I don’t have any good
reason
not to kill you, too, just for
association.  But I have a gut feeling about you.” 

He
flashes me a pensive look put on for show it seems, as I can still see a hint
of a smirk.  Regardless of his taunting, he’s describing instinct, and that I
understand.  There’s a chance he won’t kill us.  After all, they could have
killed us back in that house. 

“Did
you know them?” he asks.

I
could lie, to avoid the association with them, but he won’t believe me.  And I
don’t know what Dylan has already said, so I opt for the truth.  I meet Dylan’s
eyes to confirm it, and he nods, assuring me.

“They
were chasing us.”

“Good
girl.”  He smiles.  “Honesty is good for our relationship, kiddo.”
 
Kid?
  He can’t be a year older than me. “And what did they want
from you?”

“I’m
not sure, but probably to kill me.  I have a knack for pissing off their
leader.”

“I
would imagine that’s true,” he winks again, seeming pleased.  “So.  What, my
dear, brings you to my neck of the woods?  Or more accurately, The City?” 

Dylan
clears his throat.  When I look at him, he shakes his head. 

“We
didn’t know where to go, so we just started walking.”  

Tyce’s
fingers toy restlessly over the handle of the blade attached to his hip. 
“Unlucky that they tracked you so easily.”  He stands, and I reach for a gun
that isn’t there, sighing when I realize it. 

“All
right, sit tight.  I’ll be back.”  He seems to constantly switch between
smiling and scowling, and I can’t see which sticks once he turns his back to
me.

When
he leaves the room, Dylan comes to me.  I start to stand, but realize I’m bound
to the wall by my ankle.

“Why
am I chained up and you’re not?”

“On
the way here you woke up and attacked one of them.  You tried to claw his eyes
out.”  He sits beside me.

I
find blood under my fingernails and can’t help but smile just a little.  “I
don’t remember.”

“They
hit you again.” 

I
lean my head against the wall.

“I
don’t think they want to hurt us,” he says, sitting down beside me.  He leans
against the wall with his head cocked back, like mine.  One of his legs--the
one farther from me--is bent with his knee toward the ceiling, and his hand
draped over it, casually.  The other leg sticks straight out from his body. 
The other hand is flat on the floor between his hip and mine.

His
breaths grow steady, but when I glance at him, his eyes are wide open. 

“Are
you all right?” he asks.

“I’m
fine,” I assure him, probably unconvincingly.  My head is a flurry of
thoughts. 
Savages still exist, and they slaughtered Antius soldiers.
 
And the kicker--
Dylan lied to me
.

I
look down at his hand on the floor thinking that I like that hand better when
it’s touching me.  And maybe if he was touching me, I could understand what’s
going on in his head.  I consider grazing the top of his hand with my
fingertip. 

“Is
now a better time for that talk?”

He
releases a deep exhale suddenly, “Not really.”

I
scoot closer, and when I do, he opens up his posture toward me just a little,
the set in his jaw relaxing.  I lay my head on his shoulder and cock my hips
toward him, so my knees rest against his thigh. 

I
should be angry.  I should feel betrayed because he’s keeping something from
me.  I try to tell myself it’s probably not a big deal, which is why he’s not
speaking up, but he was too nervous, too agitated for it to be nothing.  I
should back up and pull my head away from his shoulder.  But now, after all
he’s done to break down my guard, I don’t think I can rebuild it.  Or maybe I’m
just too exhausted to do so.  And too exhausted to stay angry. 

I’ve
touched Dylan a lot lately, and a lot of the time it was for him, but I think
this time is for me.  We almost got killed today.  We could get killed at any
moment.  Something in knowing that gives me a greater sense of urgency, like I
have to keep him close.  Dylan trusted me and my escape plan blindly--if one
can even call it a plan--and now it’s my turn to trust.  And I want to, but I
don’t think I can let it go.  This is important.

Dylan
finally picks up his hand from the floor and lays it on my knee, letting his
forearm lie against my leg.  I realize, seeing them side-by-side, that his
forearm is almost as large as my thigh.  It makes me want to laugh, but my head
hurts too much.

I
loop one arm underneath his and settle in with both hands around his bicep, and
press my forehead against his shoulder, hiding my face from him.  He squeezes
my knee a little tighter, with his forearm pressing into my leg.

I
kiss his shoulder, and even through his shirt I can feel his warmth on my
lips.  That’s when he grabs me and pulls me close to his chest.  He keeps one
hand on my head and wraps the other around my back, squeezing me.  I don’t know
that I’ll ever grow tired of his embrace.

I
tilt my head up to see his face, and what’s left of the tension I saw in his
expression before melts away when I kiss the edge of his jaw.  The hardness in
his eyes is gone.  The softness in his lips has returned.  And now my Dylan is
back. 

His
lips find mine like they were never meant to be apart.  No one ever showed us
how to do this, our lips just know.  I’m awed by the fact that growing up in a
place controlled with laws and rules, mind-altering drugs, and cruelty hasn’t
changed in us what is natural to the human race.  What resilient creatures we
are.

And
what a remarkable creature Dylan is.

For
the first time I realize that my humanity might be more important than my
freedom.  I built myself up, with all my boundaries, to operate like a
machine.  I was no more human than Nathan’s drones, I just happened to have a
rebellious streak.

“What
does Nathan want with me?”

“You’re
not going to let it go, are you?”

“I
can’t.”  I sit up straighter, but allow my hands to linger on his arm. 
“Please.  Just tell me.”

He
rakes his hand through his hair, mussing it.  It’s not normally long enough to
do anything to, but it’s grown out a little, which is unusual of Antius males. 
I wonder if anyone noticed he was overdue for a haircut; I certainly didn’t.  I
kind of like it this way, though.

“They
took fluid from your brain, something only your brain produces.  They don’t
know why yours does, but they found out about it when you first arrived.  They
use it in several of their drugs.” 

I
back away from him, not really meaning to, I just don’t know how to react. 

“What?” 
I knew I was different, but I did not know that.  How could I not know?

“I’m
sorry I never told you.  I wanted you to get out of there, and I was worried
your curiosity would get the better of you.  It’s over now.  We left all that
behind.” 

“I
was a science project?”  I stare at the floor, trying to recall the memories of
my time in the lab.  Trying to remember when they could have gotten this fluid
from me.  Maybe on my annual check ups?  I don’t remember getting put under
that many times.  I reach to the chip in my neck, wondering if they took some
when they installed it.  The thought of a needle in my head makes me sick.

“Is
there anything else?”  I look up at him, eager for more information.  I thought
I had that place figured out, but it’s so full of secrets I didn’t have a
clue.  I move closer to him, realizing none of this is his fault.  I promised
not to punish him for things he didn’t do.

We
hear movement by the door and something shifts outside it.  Dylan pulls me
close and whispers, “Be honest with them, but don’t give away too much.  If we
give them a reason not to trust us, they’ll probably kill us.”

As
Tyce walks in, still alone, Dylan and I separate and sit up.

“Tell
me about yourself, Cori.”

“What
do you want to know?”  I rub my chin, trying to look casual.  I probably look
like an idiot.

“I
want to know if you’re a threat.  I want to know if we should trust you.”

“A
threat?  To you?”  I laugh.

“You’re
obviously important enough to them that they would chase you.  I’d like to know
why.”

“I
don’t know why.”  I wouldn’t be lying right now if I hadn’t pressed Dylan for
that information.  It’s so fresh on my mind, I’m liable to scream it out, but I
don’t think this is something I should tell Tyce.  I kick myself for pushing
Dylan.

The
tension in Dylan’s jaw returns as Tyce looks at him.  “We are not a threat to
you, but the people following us are.”

“We
killed them.  Are there more?”  Tyce sits on the chair the way he had before.

“There
will be.”  Dylan swallows hard.  “They’ll find us within a day if we stay put.”

“That
so?”

Dylan
points to the chip in his neck.  “She has a tracker.”  He nods toward me.  “It
transmits once a day, early every morning.”  

“What?” 
I stare at him with wide eyes.  “How have they not caught us?” 

“It’s
not the best signal, and since it only transmits for a moment, it brings them
to a general area at best.”

Tyce’s
hand drifts not-so-subtly to his knife.  “So you’re bringing an enemy to our
doorstep.  Why shouldn’t I just kill her?”  I should be frightened, but for
some reason, I don’t feel threatened despite what he’s saying.

“It
would still transmit, so you’d want to take her body far away from where you
live, and you’d want to do it by morning.”  Dylan referring to me as a “body”
sends a wave of cold through my bones.  I don’t know if I should hit him or
cry.  All along, they were on our trail because of this thing in my neck. 

“That
can be arranged,” Tyce says, with his hand around the knife handle.  But he
smirks anyway.  “But I sense that a smart guy like you might have a better
idea.”

Dylan
clears his throat.  “If I can remove it, I can deactivate it.  I’ll need
sterile tools, and a bright light.”

“What’s
the point of a tracker that only transmits once a day?” Tyce asks, but I was
wondering the same thing myself. 

“Their
developers must not be very good.”  He’s lying again.  Dylan is a technology
developer, and he
is
very good.  But this time, I don’t mind
the lie.  The less information we give Tyce, the better.  I
think
.

“And
what about your device?”  Tyce taps the place on his neck where a chip would
be.

“I
deactivated it shortly after it was installed.” 

Tyce
seems to be considering the information, and I can’t tell if he’s buying it. 
He stands and thrusts his hands in his pockets.  “We don’t have any fancy
anesthesia or anything.”  He nods and leaves the room.

I
lie on a wooden table in the middle of a warehouse, all black inside just like
the room we were held in.  It reminds me of the one my father and I hid inside
before the savages chased us onto the roof.  Around the edges of the room, the
other men go on about their business.  Some of them watch us, most of them
don’t.

In
the corner, a young guy groans and another laughs at him, clapping him on the
shoulder.  It takes a minute for me to figure out what everyone around them is
looking at.  An older man seems to be stabbing him, but when I look closer I
realize he’s only tapping the sharp object into the kid’s skin, leaving a trail
of black ink where it touches.  This must be how they all get those designs on
their skin.