Tremble (9 page)

He removes his hand from my mouth with caution.

I scoot up in the bed and lean the back of my head into the wal so hard I think I’m going to push through.

“My name’s Marshal .” He sits opposite me and tones down his brightness, so I can see him without going blind.

“And?” I’m sure smal talk is not high on the list of priorities.

“I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“So you can kil me?” I don’t appreciate his play on words.

He gives a convincing smile. There’s a way about him. I can feel his tension as though he wants something from me, but doesn’t know how to get it.

“I’m not going to kil you. I’l always tel you the truth.” The smile melts off his face. “But I think you owe me a bit of gratitude.”

“Thank you.” I scan the vicinity for something to hit him with, not that it would help.

“Mmm.” His features darken. He’s sharply handsome in an untrustworthy way. “You don’t seem very grateful.”

“Let’s move this along because I have class in the morning, and this little meet and greet is real y going to set the bags off under my eyes.”

Warm golden brown hair, eyes an amazing shade of burgundy stare at me. He looks stunning, like I could gaze at his unique brand of beauty for hours and never tire of it.

“You’l recover,” he says.

Great. I’ve gone and pissed him off. I’l be lucky to be alive by morning, let alone have bags under my eyes. I’l be in a bag… wrapped in duct tape…

“Don’t be afraid. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He taps my knee and an electrical sensation runs up my spine and swirls into my brain.

“What a rush.” I close my eyes briefly enjoying the intense euphoric feeling. I don’t want to say it, but that felt beyond great.

“You’re quite the star, Skyla. You’re the talk of the celestial scene, you know that?”

“I am?”

“Yup.” He taps my leg again, and I inhale sharply at the intense rise of pleasure.

“What are you, some kind of drug?” I bat him away.

“Some cal it venom, some liken it to a good buzz—some rapture.” His lips curl into a slow grin. “I’m not here to make you feel good. I wanted to let you know I’m your friend. The Countenance desire your capture, but I assume you already know that.”

“You’re a Sector?”

“And I can protect you.” He gives the slight impression of a smile. His light brightens then dissolves sending a series of shadows ricocheting through the room. “You’re not to tel anybody about me.”

“Too late.” I don’t do wel with celestial bul ying.

“I knew your father Skyla.” He softens a bit. “He was a friend to me.”

Doubtful.

“I’m here for you. But if you expose me…”

A chil races through me.

“To anyone,” he continues. “I’l have to take you. If I don’t take you I’l be bound. That’s like death to me and I can’t have that. Don’t make me choose between you and me, Skyla. It won’t be a choice. It wil always be me.”

“I’m prone to tel ing people things.” The logical part of me wants to believe I’ve just signed my death warrant, but I don’t think so. It’s as if I know something—that he can and wil protect me.

He pierces me with those strange eyes, gazing into me with a violent intensity.

“I’m sure you’l figure it out. I’l let you get back to your beauty sleep. Would you like me to touch you again?”

I have the very distinct feeling I’m making a pact with the devil. I know that I wil tel Logan and Gage, that no matter how much he threatens me, offers to protect me, I’m in the same amount of danger.

I wonder if Chloe felt this way—certain she was going to be captured, certain there was no right answer to pul her out of the mess she was in. I hadn’t asked to be born as a pure breed anything. In fact if I were asked, I would have declined the offer a thousand times again and again.

A dul ache permeates throughout my body. This is who I am, and these are my very unique dilemmas.

I extend my hand in his direction. “Marshal ,” I test his name out on my lips and his eyes widen with satisfaction. “Touch me.”

His hand connects with mine setting off unearthly splendid reverberations.

Rapture—yes that’s it.

I never, ever want him to let go.

Chapter Twenty

You Again

“Mr. Denny’s mother is very sick.” He runs his fingers across the desk as though he were petting a kitten before sitting on the edge.

It’s him. The man of my dreams, the boy-man who looks like he aged overnight to the ripe old age of twenty-seven. He just strol ed into second period. His features seem more defined, more heart-stopping than last night.

“My name is Mr. Dudley.” He shoots a look right at me, Hello Skyla and I jump in my seat.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

My heart races a mil ion miles an hour as a cold sweat breaks out al over my body.

He hands the graded tests to a student in the front row and instructs him to pass them out.

Marshall? I think, looking right at him. I want to know if he can hear me, read my thoughts without touching me. I don’t like this one freaking bit—but he doesn’t acknowledge me in anyway.

My test lands on my desk with a bright read B decorating the front. I spin around to show Gage, momentarily taking flight from Mr. Dudley and his wicked plan to take over my life. The next thing you know he’l be scrambling eggs for breakfast pretending to be my mother.

Gage holds up his paper with a triangular A scrawled over half the page.

“Nice.” I twist a smile.

“Hey, what’d you get?” El is taps me on the shoulder.

“B.” I look over at his paper. C—knew it. He got the last two wrong. Guess he won’t be offering to tutor me again anytime soon.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Dudley, Marshal , whoever he is, booms from the front of the class.

I straighten in my seat when I realize the concentration of his focus is square on me.

“If you won’t pay attention, I’l be forced to move you.” His finger dips into the empty seat besides his desk.

No thanks. I shake my head and stiffen in my seat. I don’t care how good it felt to touch him. I want to be here, safe, next to Gage.

He starts in on a lesson, writing fast and furious on the board while explaining the concept in such an entertaining way that he actual y has the ful attention of the class.

Within minutes, the female population fal s victim to his comeliness, his quick wit and exasperating charm.

El is turns around and gives a brief look of confusion.

“He’s good,” he whispers.

He is good. For the first time since I sat down in this chair, I’m ful y able to grasp the concepts. I fil my notebook with numbers and formulas that, for once, don’t look like hieroglyphics. A part of me feels like actual y thanking him. The hour flies by.

“Skyla Messenger?” He looks down at his roster pretending to be perplexed. “Can I see you a moment?”

Bodies file out on the way to third. Gage clasps onto my hand as we make our way to the front together.

Marshal pushes back in his seat amused at the sight of Gage by my side.

“Which one of you is Skyla?” He asks sarcastical y.

“I am. This is my boyfriend.”

“I need to speak with Miss Messenger. You can go.” He flicks a finger towards the door, scowling openly at Gage.

“I’l wait for you.” Gage gives my hand a hard squeeze.

Marshal restrains himself until Gage is out of view. A rush of new students fil s the seats, and Logan walks in with Michel e licking at his heels.

“Is this an act for my benefit?” It comes out rhetorical.

“I’l be here the rest of the year.” He looks over my shoulder, probably at Logan who I can only guess is shooting daggers at him.

“What happened to Mr. Denny?”

“His mother’s sick. I wouldn’t lie to you. I think the brunette likes me.” He gives a flirtatious smile to someone behind me.

I glance back, catching Michel e in ful -blown star-struck mode.

“Does that make you jealous?” He returns his ful attention to me amused.

“No.”

His brows crease to a point.

“I dare you to flirt with her—date her,” I whisper. “They’l throw you out.”

“They won’t throw me out,” he assures. “But I’m not here for her. I think we both know that.”

***

The bel rings. I rush out and find Gage stil waiting.

“What did he want?”

“He accused me of cheating.” I can’t believe how easily the lie came from my lips.

“He knows you copied off El is? You should have changed some answers.”

“I did.” I look down the long empty hal . “I guess not enough. Come on, we’re going to be super late.” We head off in the direction of our chemistry class.

We make it outside to the senior lawn, and Gage pul s me back by the elbow.

“Since we’re already late. I want to give something to you.” He leads me over to the trunk of an over grown peppertree stil wearing a thin veil of morning precipitation. “Here.” A neatly folded piece of paper appears between his fingers.

I take it from him and open it.

I see you clearly in my dreams

Long hair I long to touch

Life is not what it seems

Without you, it is all too much

“Did you write this?” I give an open mouth smile.

“It’s my lame attempt at poetry.” The apples of his cheeks fil with a hint of crimson.

“It’s not lame,” I shake my head. Gage wrote these words because he knew I would cherish them. He saw my notebook fil ed with flowery poems back in my old bedroom, and he’s trying to navigate this maze to my heart. I’m touched he cares to try so hard to get there.

I push up on my toes and press a soft kiss against his lips—let it linger.

A loud pinging sound disrupts the silence. We look back to see Mr. Dudley tapping something metal against the glass in an effort to garner our attention.

“We better go.” Gage grabs my hand and rushes me off in the direction of the science building.

I see the heads of the students turned in our direction. I know Logan is one of them.

Chapter Twenty-One

Angel

Logan and I sit in the remnants of the kitchen in the bowling al ey, in the walk in freezer to be exact. It’s storming outside, and every once in a while the electricity stutters, blinking on and off just enough to confirm the severity.

The freezer’s been powered off for weeks yet stil holds the slight stench of smoke and rotting animal flesh.

We create an entire file on how we could possibly kil off Counts, that is, once we’ve identified who exactly we’l be kil ing.

“Why don’t we kil al of them?” Sure it’s bloody, but if they have wicked genes, why not?

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to. Besides I’m opposed to a complete genocide. The Counts are corrupt because of their leaders. If we’re lucky we won’t have a bloodbath on our hands.”

“Bloodbath.” I let the word hang in the air, stunned with how it coats the inside of my heart and makes it quiver. “What’d you think of Mr.

Dudley?” I ask changing the subject.

“Is he the Sector?” His eyes peak at the epiphany.

“No—God no. He’s just some random teacher person.” I’m not real y that into protecting Marshal ’s identity as I am into protecting myself.

He’l be bound if I open my big mouth unless he captures me, and something in me innately knows he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d choose himself.

Logan looks over at me with his fingers pressed into his cheek as though he were waiting for me to say something that made a little more sense.

“I don’t believe you,” he says.

“I can’t lie to you.” Actual y I don’t know that as fact.

“You skirt the truth wel .” He studies me with his chin down towards his chest, lips pursed tight in a knot. “Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, whatever he’s tel ing you to gain your confidence, it’s not true.”

“What do you mean gotten myself into? You think I’m a troublemaker?”

“No.” He reaches over and picks up my hand.

I shake him loose and sit on my fingers. I know Logan. He wants in on my stream of consciousness to see if he can figure out what’s real y going on, and I’m not real y good at that whole white noise thing.

“You look pretty guilty.” He rubs his palms over his jeans. “Look I’m not stupid. He’s turned the whole school upside down in one day. I heard his name whispered by every female in a ten-foot proximity. He’s either one of us or one of them. Whatever the heck he is, he’s not human.”

“Right.” If I don’t agree with him, obviously I’l be covering things up. I should outright suspect him. “So what? He’s ruining your quarterback swagger?”

“Is he?” Logan considers this a moment. He gently lifts me off my seat and over to his lap. Our fingers find one another and flex tight as we hold them in the air. “What did Gage give you?”

“The poem.” I finger the class ring on my necklace, but I’m assuming he’s already seen that a mil ion times.

“Did you like it?” His disappointment comes through clear without bothering to wait for my answer.

“Of course. It was a nice gesture.” I love seeing Logan writhe with jealousy. I love watching the flames shoot up through those tortured amber orbs.

“Looks like I’m down flowers and a poem.” He stares out at the black hole of the kitchen with a bleak expression.

I give a gentle bite on his soft earlobe. I’ll let you make it up to me.

We relax into one long stream of supple warm kisses.

I wish the world would melt away. I don’t want to think about school, or angels with death warrants, and for sure not Mr. Dudley. I want to think about Logan and etching this moment deep in my brain, so I can savor it over and over again later.

Logan wraps his arms tighter around my waist. Me too.

***

Gage drops me off at home. I walk into the house and toss my backpack in the corner of the dining room. Mia and Melissa laugh in unison while watching cartoons, and I try to remember if I stil watched cartoons in junior high as I make my way to the fridge.

My feet freeze in their tracks paralyzed by the bizarre sight in front of me.

“Skyla, you know Mr. Dudley.” My mother looks over the rim of her glasses at me.

He’s sitting there with an amused grin, clutching at a folder from my mother’s advertising company.