Unremarkable (Anything But) (12 page)

Jaw clenched, Christian said in a low voice, “How about a thank you for saving your life?”

She eyed him. “Thank you.”

“Was that so hard?”

“
It was, yes.
Thank you
for asking.”

Christian snorted, pushing a tree branch out of the way as he walked. “You could have taken him. Why didn’t you?”

“What do you think he meant? About UDK rejects going to him? And
testing
?”

He paused, slicing his eyes to her. “Do you really want to know?”

Some of her boldness dimmed and she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “No. Probably not.”

“
Way to ignore the question, by the way,” he said dryly.

She didn’t respond.

They walked in silence, the moon their light source. Trees swooped and bent toward them, their branches beckoning.

“
I’ve never killed anyone before,” she finally said in a low voice. “I don’t know if I could. I mean, I know I act tough, but I’m not, not really. I froze. He grabbed me and I froze. Some UDK I am.”

Christian said nothing. Natasha had confessed a truth and those were never easy to tell, especially when they were negative. Another notch on the respect meter formed. He inhaled deeply, wishing there wasn’t anything likable about the UDK. He had never killed anyone before either. But he hadn’t frozen; he hadn’t even thought about it, before or after.

The air smelled like damp soil and grass, the only sound other than their footsteps that of unknown animals rustling about. It was cold out, probably low fifties, and he noted the goose bumps on Natasha’s skin.

He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it at her. “Put this on.”

“I don’t—”

“
How about you just do something for once without arguing about it first?” She grudgingly obliged. The shirt went to her knees, swallowing her slender body in it.

Her eyes went everywhere but to him and he searched his mind for something to say. He wasn’t big on conversation and the fact that he was attempting to make one was irritating. Still, he asked, “How’s your neck?”

“I’ll live.”

“
That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” When she didn’t answer, he paused to look at her. “You called me by my name.”

Natasha’s gaze went to his, then to his chest and away, her skin warming the air around her. “So?”

Her stomach growled and Christian pulled a granola bar from his pocket and offered it. She silently took it.

“
What, no sarcastic remark or argumentative comment?” he mocked.

“
I’m too hungry for that,” she grumbled, her fingers shaking as she tore at the wrapper.

“
Take your time with it or you’ll get a stomachache.”

Natasha kept her eyes on him as she devoured the granola bar, defiance in the stance of her body. He shook his head, wondering what it was about her that made her inclined to do the opposite of what she should, or the opposite of what
he
told her anyway.

The sun was on the horizon before she spoke again, swirls of pink and orange lighting the sky up. “What did it feel like, killing him?”

The house was in view, abandoned once more. He stared at it. “Empty.”

“
What do you mean?”

Christian looked at her, taking in her dirty face and scraggly hair, the dried blood on her neck. In spite of her worn exterior, there was fire in her, lighting Natasha up from the inside. She was judgmental, headstrong, illogical, sarcastic, rude, and unlikeable, and yet he had to respect the unbreakable quality to her. It would be a shame if that spark ever went out.

“I mean, I felt absolutely nothing.”

“
Does that worry you?”

“
No. But I wonder if it should.”

“
He was a bad person.”

“
True. But what if it had been someone else? Maybe I’d still feel nothing. Maybe I just don’t care about anything anymore. Maybe I really am dead.”

He averted his face, wanting to kick himself for revealing so much. The heat of her body alerted him that she was close. She stopped beside him, her arm brushing his. Christian tensed, but didn’t move away.

“Sometimes we have to feel that way just to make it through another day. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to.”

His eyes met hers, and in them, he saw something he didn’t want to see, didn’t think he’d ever see in Natasha’s eyes. He saw understanding. Some of the coldness inside him thawed toward her and Christian strode for the house, wanting that icy layer back. It was what kept him going, kept him able to isolate himself from everyone and everything, kept him from caring too much. If he cared, he’d forget his purpose, and if he lost that, he was worthless.

Juli met him near the house, her eyes large and filled with sorrow. She didn’t say anything, causing dread to form and fester inside him.

“
What is it?” he demanded, moving past her and into the house.

“
We lost two,” she whispered behind him.

Christian’s eyes scanned the inhabitants. The bedraggled appearance of the UDs couldn’t take away from the pain in their faces. It was a somber group. There was no judgment, no accusation in the gazes that met his, but even so, he felt guilty. They were there because of him. They’d chosen to fight for freedom because of him.

“Who? What happened?” Streams of dust filtered through the windows, creating a disjointed reality of the house’s occupants.

“
Michael and Brittney. They were…” she trailed off.

Brittney Reynolds and Michael Johansen had been in their teens yet, childhood friends from northern Illinois. Christian briefly closed his eyes, allowing himself a minute of mourning and nothing more.

He turned around, studying his friend. “They were?”

She shook her head, unable to continue. Juli pushed past Natasha and fled the porch, heading toward the wooded part of the countryside. Christian watched her for a moment, and then looked at Natasha.

“They must have been decapitated.” Someone cried out. She ignored it, continuing, “We didn’t hear any gunshots last night and there are only two ways to kill a UD—bullet to the head or decapitation.”

“
Thank you for clarifying that,” he said sardonically.

Natasha shrugged.

Anger tightened his muscles with the need to lash out. This was his fault. He needed to make it someone else’s. He took a step toward Natasha. “You’re probably glad. One less UD to worry about, right? All we are is a contemptible race that shouldn’t exist. I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. I’m sure you’re wishing we were
all
dead.”

Her mouth opened, and then closed into a thin line. Eyes narrowed, she said, “Yep. That’s it. Thanks for doing me a favor. Maybe next time, if we’re really lucky, it will be you.”

Christian stormed for her, growling low in his throat. His hand fisted around his shirt she wore and yanked, her slender body colliding with his harder one, pressing flush against his.

Seconds, minutes, ticked by as their eyes remained locked together in an unspoken battle of wills. Unreadable emotions flashed through the large brown eyes set on his. Natasha’s throat worked as she swallowed, her breathing heightened, her pulse racing in her neck. Rage turned to something he didn't want to name as he became aware of all the ways her body fit to his. His eyes trailed down her face to her neck and lower.

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” he told her in a low voice, the timbre raspier than was customary.

Natasha’s eyes flickered down and up, but she said nothing.

“No rude comment?”

“
I’m sorry your friends were killed,” she murmured, eyes downcast.

“
You’re lying.”

“
I’m not,” she said, lifting her gaze to his.

Christian dropped his hand from her and moved away, disoriented by the sincerity he’d seen in her eyes. The woman did nothing but confuse him. It was best if he stayed away from her, and with that thought in mind, he strode past her and into the house, determined to double check it for wiretaps or awaiting enemies even though he knew the house and surrounding areas were clear. He’d do just about anything to get his mind off Natasha and all her conundrums.

Returning from a two-hour run
through the woods that he had hoped would center him and had failed to do so, Christian was not prepared for what greeted him as the house came into view. It was nighttime, but he was able to make out dancing, laughing forms. One lone figure was not involved in the silliness, standing on the sidelines watching instead. He stopped just behind her, his eyes locked on her instead of the activities in the distance.

“
What is this?” he demanded.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at him, crossing her arms. She had yet to remove his shirt. “They’re celebrating.”

“We just lost two of ours. What is there to celebrate?”

“
You know, they could blame me,” she mused. “I had the tracking device on me. I unintentionally led the UDKs here. It’s my fault your friends died. And they could even say I knew they would come for me just so they could be okay with taking revenge for their deaths out on me. But they didn’t. That’s unique, commendable.”

Natasha turned sideways to face him. “I’ve never seen anything like it before, not once in the UDK world I grew up in. Life is insignificant to them. It has no meaning there. The ones I knew would just as easily of killed me as let me go. And it’s strange that these people are so accepting of me and that I feel almost like I could belong here, with them, with you, when I never felt like I ever belonged with my own kind.”

The wind picked up, tousling her short hair around her face as she turned toward him. The moon caressed her features, highlighting the waiflike beauty of them. “They’re celebrating life. They’re celebrating the lives of Brittney and Michael.”

“
There’s no music. That’s stupid,” he said with a snort, quickly looking away from her penetrating gaze.

It wasn’t stupid. It was amazing. The people around him were phenomenal, and it was a shame—it was
worse
than a shame—that they were treated and depicted as though they were mistakes, monsters, and abominations. They were better than any other people he’d even known, and they were most likely going to die, and for what? So some power hungry society could feel better about themselves, so they could feel
normal
, in control.

It was even stupider to care about them
because
most of them would probably die, and yet he did. So maybe they weren’t stupid, but
he
was. And when he looked at Natasha, his chest squeezed; for all the slights she’d endured, from him and others, and for her feeling of inadequacy that was far from true. Maybe that made him stupidest of all—letting himself care for her, and he feared he did. 

“
It’s not stupid,” she snapped, giving his shoulder a hard shove.

Christian impulsively grabbed her hand and tugged her to him.

“Quit grabbing at me all the time! You’re such a brute!” Natasha slapped at him, her palm meeting the chiseled flesh of his pectorals. “What are you
doing
?”

“
I’m trying to dance with you, if you’d ever hold still.”

Natasha went motionless. “You said it was stupid.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I want to celebrate life too.”

A slow smile, sweet and rare, curved her lips. Natasha laughed softly; a tinkling sound of joy, and Christian finally thought maybe he understood what all the others already seemed to know—you never knew what was going to happen from one moment to the next, so embrace the moments you got. He did. He took Natasha in his arms and twirled her around, down the small hill and toward the other dancers, tension falling away as he lived in the moment; as he celebrated life.

The apartment was ravaged.

Grim, sickened by the upheaval that was once his fiancée’s apartment, Isaac wove his way through upturned furniture, scattered papers, and a floor full of clothing. Gun cocked and ready, each corner and crevice he checked was empty. Talley was gone. Honor was gone. And there were smears of blood on the beige carpet.

When he was positive the apartment was clear, Isaac dropped his hands, the weight of the gun too heavy in the face of what had come to pass. One or both of them was wounded or dead, possibly taken by UDKs per August’s orders. If the alternative was that, dead was better than wounded.

His chest gave a twinge and Isaac closed his eyes until it passed.
I should have been here. Always too late—I’m always too late.
He went still, James’s words echoing through his head.
Ultimate killing machine. 
What if the destruction had been the result of
Honor
and not August’s henchmen? Tight-lipped, he refused to believe it.

He hurried from the apartment complex, thoughts on finding Honor and not his immediate surroundings. Uncontrollable fear prodded him on and he couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard he tried to. If he had been paying attention, he would have noted the red vehicle parked in front of the door that hadn’t been there when he’d arrived.