UNBREATHABLE (21 page)

Round and green and white and blue.

“Earth.” My voice is soft. I turn in time to see something flicker in his eyes. “What about you? What do you want?”

He meets my eyes. Intense. A million words in one penetrating look.

“You.”

The world pauses. The wind ruffles his hair but the world is still and silent.

I take a step back before I can think. He gently pushes me against the broken wing jutting out of the ground, his touch searing through my nerves. My heart thuds in my chest, thrums in my ears. My body pulses with energy.

His fingers brush the hair away from my face and my heart stops. My cheeks burn, burn, burn. And then he is there. Here. He lowers his head to mine.

“You, Lissa. I just didn’t know it.”

His lips close over mine.

Soft.

Hesitant.

They taste as free as his scent. Heat shoots up my stomach, tendrils of want and need. My heart explodes in my chest. The shards melting away in the heat of his touch.

My head angles to the right. His to the left. It’s as if we've done this so many times before. When really, I have never even touched another soul like this before him.

There’s suddenly too much space between us. No space at all. Everywhere his body touches mine, I ignite. He pushes against me, our bodies fitting together as if we were meant to be. I can feel his heart racing against my chest. He runs his hands up and down my bare arms. Like flint against flint, electricity courses from him to me. Me to him. His lips press harder. Desperate. And we're both gasping for air.

His hair tickles my forehead. I reach up, and the silk is unlike anything I've ever felt before. I wrap my fingers around the dark strands and pull him closer, closer, though there is no space between us. He groans against my lips, his breath against my skin, my chest and my stomach pulsing. Throbbing. His fingers press against my back, holding me against him, ten pinpoints of searing heat.

I gasp and he leans away, staring at me with dark intensity before his lips touch mine again.

This is how I suspect humans will die without oxygen. Gasping. The way I feel I will die without Julian. Without his lips against mine.

“Julian,” I whisper against his lips. He stills. His eyes open and all I see are two pools of depthless desire. He leans his forehead against mine, a gorgeous half-smile teasing his lips, and I raise my finger and trace it along the curve of his smile. I don't know where this courage comes from. Maybe it was there all along, inside me, waiting for him.

His lips are soft beneath my fingers, warm. Bruised because of my teeth.

“That's the first time you've said my name.” His voice is a caress against my skin. A soft, breathless laugh spills from my lips. My body continues to hum and he chuckles softly. “So this is what it feels like to have the world at your feet.”

I splay my fingers across his chest, remembering the words I said to him that night. I feel his heart racing beneath my touch. I feel the muscles laced beneath his shirt. And I feel happy. Loved. Wanted. Needed for more than my blood.

“I never thought this could happen,” he says thoughtfully. He looks down at my hands, his eyes sparkling. Moonlight hits the right of his face, illuminating his blushed skin, the scar along his side, and the ridge in his nose.

He is beautiful.

“What?” I breathe. He raises his eyes back to mine. And I'm reminded of the first time I met him. The way he looked at me the way no one else ever had. Intent. Focused. As if I mattered.

“That I could fall in love,” he whispers, kissing me again. And I realize I have always wanted this. Ever since he saved me in the Chamber, and before that in the crophouses, I have wanted him. I just didn’t know it.

He parts his lips, slowly parting mine as he does. I shiver and he pulls away with a grin. His white teeth sparkle in the dark. A laugh bubbles from my lips and for a moment, I don't recognize it as my own. And the way his eyes flash, I know he doesn't either.

His lips graze my neck, feathering the skin Mia made sure I bared. My hands flatten on his chest and I feel the shudder that goes through him.

And he stops. He looks up at me, his eyes like the sea as it laps against the shore, lazy beneath the moon. He brings his lips to mine and places one more kiss.

Something slices through my heart, pulls tears to my eyes. Because I feel the finality in it, the sorrow. He touches his nose against mine. And I never want to be away from him. Never.

“I'm sorry, Lissa.”

And I hear Julian’s laugh. Only, it isn’t Julian’s.

”I knew I would find you here,” Rowan calls, his voice full of amusement. Seven shadows of men slowly surround us.

I think I should be afraid. But I look at Julian and I still imagine it’s just us. I still feel the ghost of his lips against mine. My body still hums with our magic.

The rest of me is numb.

I reach for something, anything, but my mind is drunk with Julian.

“That has to be the best act you've ever put on,” Rowan laughs.

Now, I feel something. Pain cuts through my heart, shattering me. I look at Julian, my eyes holding half the accusation and betrayal my heart feels.

But he knows.

He’s Julian. He will always know how I feel.

“Lissa, no.” His voice is a whisper. His fingers tremble when he reaches out and I shrink back, sidestepping away from the wing. His face cracks, and with it, my soul. He stares at me for what feels like forever, and finally turns away, trembling with anger.

“Rowan, you liar,” he growls and I flinch. He throws himself at Rowan. But two of Rowan’s men grip him by his shoulders and hold him back. He pulls free and manages to throw a punch at one of them before they grab him again, kicking him in his groin. He groans and drops to his knees. Rowan smirks and turns to me.

I stand tall and stare back, because Julian taught me more than how to use a blade. The wind kisses my burning skin.

But inside, I am still trying to make sense of it all. Because I don't know if everything that happened between Julian and me was an act.

What if he lured me here? Away from the palace so Rowan can take me for whatever madness he wanted me for?

I shift my gaze to Julian. His eyes have been on me the entire time, watching me, reading me. He struggles against his captors. “No, Lissa. Please, don't.”

I say nothing. My chest hurts. Breathing hurts. Because everything inside me shattered beneath his touch, and I can’t put myself together again.

“What do you want with me, Rowan?” I ask. I raise my voice because I don't want to step closer to him.

“Julian didn't tell you?” He feigns curiosity.

“I asked you.” I don't know if this is a game. I don't want him to speak of Julian.

He laughs at my tone. “You certainly aren't the same girl I met over a month ago, are you?”

I stare until he stops laughing.

“You're coming with me,” he announces, stepping closer.

“Am I?” I ask.

“And Julian will go back to the palace. Alone.” He looks at me pointedly, waiting for the words to sink in.

They do. Oh, they do.

When Julian shows up without me, the Queen will have him tortured. Imprisoned. Possibly killed. And he'll say nothing because of Rowan's leverage.

“I know”—Julian pants—“what you're going… to do. Don't Rowan.”

Rowan barks a laugh.

“You're mad,” Julian spits. He tries again to break free his captors. They don't budge. They’re burly, stronger than Julian's lithe and muscle. But I've seen Julian break free from Jute soldiers, and I can tell he isn't trying enough. Or maybe he’s like me, still drunk from moments ago.

“We're all mad here,” Rowan muses. “Some of us just more than others.”

I don't feel the men creeping up to me until their calloused hands suffocate my arms. I don’t struggle against them, I hold Rowan’s gaze, hoping my defiance shows in my eyes.

I try to think of what Rowan wants, but all that rolls through my head is Julian. And how he may never see tomorrow. How I may never see him again. How he may have known all along that Rowan would come for me.

Through the corner of my eyes, I see him stop struggling. Something unravels inside me, and I know what he wants, the way he always knows what crosses my mind.

He wants my eyes on his, one last time—because he may never see me again. And I give him that.

I look at him, into him, as if it is only him and me in this bleeding world.

“Give him some bruises,” Rowan says. “Send him back to the palace. And Julian, please don't try anything stupid.”

The men obey with low, throaty laughs. They throw punches to his stomach, they kick him in the shin. Julian groans.

They beat Julian while I watch, my body weakening with each blow. He doesn’t even try to fight back. My lips tremble and my vision blurs.

“That’s enough,” Rowan says, his voice tight. Could he feel the ties of his blood?

I grit my teeth and clench my fists. But I if I open my mouth, words will spew out of my anger, not my conscious. Words that could worsen everything.

Rowan strolls toward me while Julian watches, heaving and sagging between the men holding him like a doll. He trails a long finger down my cheek and the men tighten their hold on me so I can’t move. He looks so much like Julian.

“I hate you,” I hiss, pulling away.

He smirks and drops his hand. “Then we're heading in the right direction. After all, love and hate go hand in hand.”

Julian's eyes bore into me until Rowan’s men drag him away. And I know it wasn't an act.

I can only hope the entire human race is worth his silence.

The freedom of the night is gone, replaced with four dark walls. I sit up when I hear breathing.

In the dark, all I can see are his dark eyes. My murky mind grasps onto a single image. Julian.

But reality rushes back. Julian isn't here. He’s in the palace. Being tortured.

“Rowan?” My voice is a raw whisper. Was I screaming?

“You're awake,” he says, shifting on the edge of the bed.

“Why am I here?” Why do I sound so vulnerable?

“Where are you?” He answers with a tilt to his head. Strands of darkness fall off the side of his face. His voice sounds so much like Julian's. Too much like Julian's. Their differences are only noticeable when they’re together.

“I”—I frown—“I don't know.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says, reaching for me. The bed groans beneath his shifting weight. Dangerous, nervous energy rushes through me. How did I get here? His fingers brush back the hair on my face, his touch softer than I expect. I don't flinch away. All I can do is hold my breath and stare into his eyes, seeing Julian.

“Why did you do that to him?” I whisper. I don't want to say Julian’s name out loud. I have only said it once. And if I say it again, I know that one instant will flood into my mind and I will never submerge from the memory. I will drown in its grief.

“He was a distraction. I need you for myself.”

He says it so simply, innocently. As if Julian was an obstacle and I am an object to be acquired by any means possible. The words are nothing to him. Julian is nothing to him.

He looks at me as if I should understand. As the Queen’s first in command, he’s probably used to getting whatever he wants.

“Why?” I ask slowly, hoping he will spill his plans. “Why do you need me?”

“I just do,” he says. He’s mad
and
smart. He runs his smallest finger down the bridge of my nose and I shiver. His lips slowly curve up in a smile and my body stills when I see Julian again.

They may as well be twins on the outside.

“Wash up and come to the hall.”

He stands and leaves, and I’m irked by his command.

I lie back in bed when I’m alone. I feel the ghost of Julian's touch on my lips, my neck, my arms. I see his soft eyes. My faintly throbbing lips are still swollen. What will they do to him?

Lying here will help no one. I sit up.

Surprisingly, I do as Rowan says. But what surprises me most is this: the instant I remember Rowan's touch, a gnawing craving rises in me. Threatens to take over me. He killed Chancellor Kole before my eyes. He had his men beat Julian feet away from me. And yet, this feeling wrenches at my heart.

Maybe, just maybe, we're all mad here.

I expect a pair of pants and a top to change into. But it’s another dress, deep blue and soft to the touch. As soft as Julian’s hair. I dig my nails into the flesh of my arm and the memory recedes.

I slip into a larger room, which is mostly dark with an illustrated domed ceiling. I seize the chance to look around, get a glimpse of something.

Because if Rowan is the Queen's first in command, why would he hide me from her? Simply to get rid of Julian? The doubt in me is strong.

“Princess Lissa?”

I turn towards the sound of the voice, which belongs to a man with graying hair and smiling eyes. His lips are as pale as his skin. And when he smiles, it is almost as if he doesn't have lips at all.

“Rowan would like to see you,” he says, clearing his throat. I study him a moment longer, because something seems off about him.