Testament (12 page)

I shivered as the heat of his tongue opened my lips. My arms automatically went around his neck, and I raked my fingers through his hair. The intensity of our kiss deepened—it was like neither one of us could get enough of each other. It was so different than kissing Micah. Sure there had been lust behind some part of Micah’s kisses, but at the same time, emotion threatened to overtake me—the emotion of love. Kissing Kellan felt like tasting liquid desire and passion off someone.

I tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck, and he moaned. His hand slid from waist up my ribs to cup my breast. I jerked my lips from his and smacked him.

The blood in my veins turned to ice the moment I realized what I had done. I’d raised a hand to someone above me—the Emperor’s son. I could be imprisoned for it. A few agonizing seconds ticked by as I waited for his response.

He rubbed his cheek and stared at me. “You’ve got one hell of a temper, don’t you?”

As much as it pained me, I quickly bowed my head and said, “I’m sorry…
sir
.”

“I guess he never kissed you like that?”

My head jerked up. “Yes, he kissed me like that, but he was too much of a gentleman to grope and paw me like I’m just some slut!”

Kellan grinned. “You don’t need a gentleman, Cadence. You need someone who can stoke that fire that burns within you.”

I squared my shoulders back and glared at him. “I don’t need you to stoke anything of mine, thank you.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “Come on, I want to show you something.” At my skeptical look, he said, “Don’t worry. It’s not my bedroom.”

“Oh, well, all right then.”

As we started back to the palace, he grabbed my hand and laced his fingers through mine. The gesture caused a slow burn to roll through my chest. Confusion sent my mind reeling. What was happening to me? I didn’t care about Kellan—I couldn’t. He was selfish, arrogant, and conceited. Nothing like Micah. Besides, I was only supposed to get close to him to help the Abir overthrow his father. If I allowed myself to feel anything for him, how would I stand by and let the Abir take him prisoner or worse?

I shrugged away those thoughts as we descended down a spiraling staircase to the basement. At the end of a long corridor, Kellan opened a door on the right. When he flicked on the light switch, I gasped.

Row after row of metal shelves lined up along the vast room. Multicolored CD cases glimmered in the light. Music was something that had disappeared after the Great Fall. Stereos, iPods, and CDs were so expensive, no one in my neighborhood could afford them. The best we could hope for was catching a song on someone’s old radio or humming forgotten tunes.

Stepping forward, I ran my fingers over the cases, recognizing artists I used to listen to on a daily basis. I turned back to Kellan. “I can’t believe this is down here.”

“Yeah, I like to think of it as Father’s little stash. Actually, this room along with another holds one of the only surviving music collections in the province.”

My fingers lingered over several Beatles albums. “Oh, my parents loved them. They used to put them on every Saturday while we did chores. They called it mood music to swipe away the grime.” I giggled at the thoughts of my dad singing into the mop handle or my mom shimmying across the living room vacuuming.

Kellan smiled as he took the CD off the shelf. Without a word, he went to the middle of the room where an expensive stereo system was. A push of a few buttons and
I Wanna Hold Your Hand
filled the room and swept me back to another place and time. Closing my eyes, I let the sweet memories of my parents envelope me like a patchwork quilt.

As the song faded, I stared longingly at the stereo. Turning to Kellan, I asked, “Can I?”

“Sure.”

Flipping through the songs, I found one and stopped. “This was one of my father’s favorites,” I said, as Paul McCartney’s voice echoed out of the speakers singing
Let It Be
.

Kellan snorted behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder. “What?”

“Well, he mentions Mother Mary in the lyrics. He must’ve been a Believer.” An edge of disgust rang in his voice.

Fighting my temper, I replied, “Actually, his mother’s name was Mary. She died when he was very young. He’s saying she comes to him, not the Virgin Mary.”

“Oh,” Kellan murmured.

An awkward silence hung around us. “Do you hate Believers?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know that I hate them. I guess it’s more I don’t understand them. How anyone could put their life, their destiny in the hands of something that may or may not exist? It seems foolish and ridiculous.” His blue eyes sought mine. “How do you feel about them?”

The pounding of my heart echoed in my ears, muting the sounds in the room. The callous and cold way Kellan felt about Believers was another reason not to care for him or what happened to him. As much as I wanted to tell him off about it, I realized the weight of my words. If I showed too much sympathy for Believers, I could be in a lot of trouble. “I guess I try not to think about them,” I finally answered.

“How can you not? When I think about all the suffering they caused in history, it pisses me off. They caused the Second Civil War, and then when the Great Fall happened, what did they do? Still worried about God and religion in the middle of all that chaos. So weak.”

The room seemed to close in on me. Breathing seemed impossible as I tried keeping my emotions in tack. As if on cue, the tattoo on my shoulder burned with his words. I turned my attention back to the racks of CDs.

“I think we need a little mood lightening, don’t you?” I asked.

Kellan laughed. “Sure. Why not.” He peered at the CDs and chose one. When I recognized the song, I nervously chewed my lip. My brown eyes locked with his blue eyes as the upbeat tempo of
Brown Eyed Girl
reverberated around us.

Grinning, he held out his hand. “Care to dance?”

“Um, I guess…I’m not really that good.”

“Well, if you’ll let me lead, we’ll be fine.”

“Don’t count on it,” I muttered under my breath.

Kellan burst out laughing. “You don’t stop, do you?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

He pulled me into his arms, crushing me against him like before. It was only a moment before he spun me out and then whirled me back to him. Then we lunged back and forth to the beat. It reminded me once again of my mother and father and how they used to dance.

Our bodies moved together as I usually anticipated his next move. “You’re pretty good.” Kellan called over the music.

“Thanks,” I shouted back.

As we let our guard down, our moves got sillier, and laughter rolled through me. I realized I was actually having fun with Kellan. Not to mention, I had forgotten what it felt like when happiness radiated from the top of your head down to your toes.

The last chords of the song faded away, and we were left wrapped in each other’s arms.

Kellan’s face inched closer to mine. His expression was serious, if not soulful. “You know I could give you a good life.”

I stared down at my feet. “I know.”

“But you don’t want that life, do you?”

“I don’t know.”

Kellan cupped my face and ran his thumbs over my cheekbones. “You could grow to like me.”

“Liking you isn’t the problem, Kellan.” When he looked intently at me, I replied, “There is a part of you that is very likeable.”

“Then you could grow to love me.”

My breath hitched in my chest. In my mind, a voice screamed,
“NO! I already care for someone, and if I care for you, it’s only going to hurt that much more when I betray you to the Abir.”
But instead, I shook my head. “But how could I grow to love you when you’ve admitted tonight you don’t know what love is?”

“You know what real love is, so you could teach me.”

I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. “Sure, I can teach you. And then the minute you grow tired of our lessons, will you be out trying to find some other girl to teach you?”

Kellan jolted back like I’d slapped him. “That’s not what I want in life,” he argued.

“Yeah, well, I could argue you’re eighteen, and you have no idea what you want.”

His jaw clenched, and he practically growled, “I know with absolute certainty I do not want to be a womanizer like my father.”

Once again, Laurel’s words echoed in my mind. Pulling away, I murmured, “I hope so for your sake, but I just don’t know if I can believe you or not.”

“Then I’ll prove it to you. I won’t force myself on you or chose you against your will.”

I widened my eyes. “You won’t?’

Kellan shook his head. “No, I won’t. And that should prove without a shadow of a doubt that forcing you is too much like my father and not the kind of foundation I want to build a relationship on. I want to know you’re willing to be a part of my life. The other girls—I know how much they want to be with me.”

“Why does this all have to be so complicated?” I murmured.

“It’s really not complicated, Cadence. If you’re willing to let me choose you, then wear red tonight.”

The ice blue dress Naomi had hung in my room flashed before my eyes. Its elegance and beauty seemed far more alluring at the moment than it had this morning. More than anything, I knew if I put that dress on, I was going home for sure. If the palace got overrun by the Abir, it wouldn’t be my fault. I wouldn’t have to feel responsible for Kellan’s imprisonment…or worse. Most of all, I would be going home to be with Micah, and somehow with my mind drowning in confusion, that brought comfort and relief.

But Kellan didn’t have to know that. As he stared expectantly at me, I finally replied, “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

He glanced at his watch and winced. “I have to go.”

I nodded. “Yep, next date.”

“I’ll see you tonight.” He leaned in and kissed me. On the lips.

I watched him jog back down the path to where I was sure Lana awaited. Then I turned back to the palace, my stomach churning. It worsened when I saw Micah framed in the backdoor of the palace. “How did it go?”

“Fine.”

The usual impish grin slunk across his face.
“Just fine?
You didn’t knee him in the groin or something, did you?”

“Yes, it was just fine, and no, I didn’t knee him,” I replied.

Then the color drained from his cheeks. In a strangled voice he said, “Your lipstick is smudged.”

My hand flew to my lips. “I, um, it’s not what it seems.”

Micah shook his head. In that moment, everything between us seemed to change. It was like just one glance at my smudged lipstick had shattered everything. “You don’t have to explain, Cadence. He’s rich, powerful, and good-looking, and I’m just the goofy friend of your brother’s. You’d be a fool not to want him over me.”

“But I
don’t
want him,” I protested. He turned to walk away, but I grabbed his arm. “Don’t you get it? This pageant is an out-of-control rollercoaster for me. I’m doing everything I can to keep from drowning in all this bullshit!”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Hurt resonated in his voice.

“Have you even stopped to think that if I win and something happens to Kellan, I’ll have his blood on my hands? Well, I have, and it’s tearing me in two. Can you understand that?” When he didn’t respond, bitter tears stung my eyes. “Micah, I need you.”

His shoulders slumped. “You know I’ll always be here for you.”

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and shoved him against the wall…hard.

“What the hell?” Micah growled.

“That’s it?”

“What are you talking about?”

I threw up my hands in frustration. “I don’t understand you, Micah. One afternoon you’re ready to run away with me and the next you’re conceding to Kellan?”

His eyes darkened. “What do you want me to do, Cadence? Go all medieval and challenge him to a duel?”

“No, but I want you to at least stand here and fight for me. Tell me you’re mad as hell I was kissing him.”

Micah glanced around us. “This is not the place to be doing this,” he hissed.

“I don’t care if it’s the right place or not. This is my life and my future. And I want to make sure you really want to be a part of it.”

“You know
I
do, but I think it’s safe to say that neither one of us are sure what
you
want!”

His words stung me, and I almost wished he’d slapped me instead. I drew in a ragged breath. “Kellan wants me to wear red tonight. If I do, then he knows I’m coming to him willingly.” Micah arched his eyebrows, waiting for my response. “But I’m not going to.”

“You aren’t? What about Griff and the Abir?”

“I just want to go home.”

“What about me?”

Even though it was risky, I leaned forward, molding myself against him like Kellan had molded against me earlier. I wanted to prove myself to him. “Take me home tonight, Micah.”

A hesitant smile twitched at his lips. “I can do that.” Brushing a strand of hair out of my face, he said, “I want nothing more than to do that.”

I closed my eyes at the feel of his hand on my cheek. The confusion swirling around me seemed to still. Griff had asked too much of me to try to win the pageant. Regardless of what Richard was, I couldn’t knowingly feed Kellan to the wolves. Griff and the Abir would have to let the chips fall where they did because I didn’t want to play a hand at their game. And I knew at that moment, I was doing the right thing.