UNBREATHABLE (23 page)

And he leaves me alone with Rowan.

My whole body pulses with that dangerous pull that rises whenever Rowan is near.

“Why was he here?” He asks, tilting his head. Why is Rowan so close?

“He wanted to see if my wound had closed,” I say, thinking fast.

“You're Jute,” he shoots back. “We heal fast.”

“I'm only half Jute.” I remind him.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he says. I want him to give me room to breathe.

“Oh?” I say.

“Oh, yes,” he says with a grin. I look away when I see Julian.

Every heartbeat I waste with Rowan is a heartbeat of agony for him.

He crouches down by the bed and opens one of the three drawers along the side that I didn't see before.

He pulls out a mask and makes sure I’m watching before he presses it to his face. The mask suctions to his skin and the rush of oxygen clouds the clear Louen. I struggle to keep my face blank.

I watch as he breathes in and out. A slow grin transforms his face as oxygen surges through his system. His skin doesn’t pale as it does when a Jute breathes oxygen. His eyes don’t dilate.

My blood works.

It’s done. There’s no doubt anymore.

He pulls the mask off and breathes in the sweet air around us. “It's pretty bland, compared to this.”

“This is intoxicating,” I agree, but my heart is banging against my rib cage. It’s happening, already. They’re using my blood.

He raises one eyebrow and tosses the mask on the bed. “You?”

“I meant the air,” I say flatly. His eyes fall to my throat when I swallow uneasily.

“And you,” he says.

“Where is my necklace?” I ask, steering the subject away from me.

He angles his head and narrows his eyes. Does he know about Mia? “Why?”

“I liked it. I want it back.” I wonder if I sound as obnoxious as he does, because you are who you associate yourself with.

“I'll give it to you,” he says simply and I blink in surprise.

My heart skips a beat when his fingers reach for his neck and he begins unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze hot. I step back, but again, the wall is behind me. When every button is undone, he drops his hands by his sides and I’m thankful that he at least
left
the shirt on.

But some part of me wishes he took it off. My face burns. 

The necklace hangs around his neck.

I see the gold chain, the green stone. I see his chest too, the muscles tight and lean.

“Can I have it?” I ask. My voice is tight. Hushed.

“Take it.” His eyes flash and his jaw shifts.

I take one step toward him, expecting him to move closer. Instead, he shifts so he’s a foot from the wall adjacent to us, but he’s otherwise still.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask. There’s a plea in my voice.

“There isn’t an answer for everything.” He says softly with a shrug.

I stop, inches away. I look at his chest. No. I look at the jewel and reach for it, and I notice, barely, that he holds his breath too. His chest is a sculpture of stone, brushed in the light caramel I’ve read about. Heat creeps up my neck as I think this.

I focus on the stone.

But I can't. Our bodies are inches apart. His breath is hot on my skin. I can feel the heat of his body as if it’s mine. I notice everything no matter how hard I try not to. The way his silky Louen pants hang from his bare hips. The way his shirt hides so much and bares so much. The way the collar of his shirt brushes against the scruff on his jaw. The way his jaw angles and his lips curve into a small dark smile, as if he knows something I do not.

I reach for the stone. My fingers tighten into fists when his hands close around mine and my heart explodes. He pulls me against him. Turns. And I am sandwiched between the wall and his body.

It all happens in heartbeats. I can’t breathe. Danger pulsates through me.

“Rowan.” My voice is soft. I can’t stop seeing Julian.

“Hush,” he says quietly. “Do you want the necklace?”

I swallow and nod.

“Take it,” he breathes.

My hands tremble as I reach for the chain, forcing air through my lips. In, out, in, out. His breathing mixes with mine and I lose my concentration. My fingers brush against his burning skin. He watches my every move. Drinks in my every emotion. I lift the chain over his head and slip it over mine.

But he doesn't move. My eyes flicker to his, to the deep pools of darkness staring back at me. He leans close. I can almost feel his lips on mine. Barely, just barely, I lean forward, my heart throbbing.

My breath shudders. Something in me desperately wants to know the feel of his lips against mine. But I don't kiss him. I can't kiss him.

I’m dying.

And after what seems to be forever, he pulls away. I breathe.

“We'll be leaving soon. You should change. There's another dress behind that door.” He is as breathless as I am, and I find slight comfort in that. No, I can’t find comfort at all.

“Thank you.” I force the words from my mouth. They fall one by one, in a whisper. “For the jewel.”

“It was never mine.” He smirks and the door closes behind him.

I drop to my knees the moment he leaves. Sobs rack through my body. I nearly kissed him. I’m going mad. I am mad.

I think of Julian, somewhere in a dark place. I hear his groans of pain, see his eyes barely able to stay open.

I rock back and forth on the cool ground and clutch my stomach. I feel his pain as if it is my own. I can barely tell the difference.

There is no difference.

We're leaving, Rowan said. I force myself to my feet and make my way to the closet. I pull the lavender and gray dress from the hanger, ignoring the deepness of the neck and the buttons dropping along the front. Rowan must have chosen it for me himself.

But I change. I need to get out of here before Rowan drives me mad. I pretend I am another person and leave the room.

And I will myself to believe every step takes me closer to Julian.

My cheeks still burn as I hurry down the hall. I head in the direction of the dining hall, hoping to see someone other than Rowan, because I don't think I can look at him.

I hear a creak as I turn the corridor. Fingers wrap around my wrist and before I can pull away, I’m jerked into darkness.

“Don’t struggle.”

Light floods the small space.

“Eli?” I whisper. We’re in a closet with brooms, buckets, and rags strewn about.

“Did he hurt you?” His blue eyes search my face. There’s something in the way his intense gaze roves my face that reminds me of Julian, though I’m sure I’m imagining the likeness. It could be the blue eyes.

I wonder if my cheeks are still flushed.

“No,” I say quickly. I feel the urge to steer him away from Rowan, as if something happened between us that no one should know of. He stares at me a moment longer, deciding for himself.

“I found these,” he says finally. He holds out the daggers Julian carved for me, and the gun I saved for Dena.

“How? Where?” I ask as he helps me strap one to my shoulder and one above my ankle.

“I have my ways,” he says with a warm, fatherly smile.

“Thank you, Eli,” I say, earnestly.

He nods and his smile fades. “I tried to get word to Mia. It might be a while.”

I nod and bite my lip. “We didn’t expect it to be easy.”

“No, we didn’t.” He studies me closely. “Are you sure you’re alright, Lissa?”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly. I need to get away before my face betrays everything. I reach for the door.

“Be careful,” he calls as I shut it behind me. I want to tell him it won't matter how much care I take.

“Where are you running to?” Rowan’s voice stops me in my tracks.

The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up a quarter of the way, hands lazy in his pockets. I still feel the tickle of his hair on my face.

“I was looking for you,” I say. My eyes stray to his lips. I still can't believe he nearly kissed me. That I nearly kissed him.

“Were you?” Rowan asks, amused. He studies my new dress.

“You said we were leaving.” I point out.

“Ah, yes. I said that. We leave this way, not that.” He points in the opposite direction.

“I don't live here,” I say, defending myself.

He murmurs something to himself and leads me the other way. The hall ends in the map room with the fireplace. He tells me to wait and moves toward one of the three doors leading from here.

I crane my neck when he opens the center door. It’s mostly dark inside. But I make out the large bed swathed in dark sheets and the shape of a desk on one end. My neck burns when I realize it’s Rowan's room.

I turn to the table running along the wall. I squint. They’re not mere ornaments—they’re artifacts from Earth. I take a step toward them when the doorknob rattles.

Rowan emerges, wearing a different shirt, this one sky blue. The pants are the same. I don’t know why I notice these things, but I do.

“We can leave now,” he says, but he sees me by the table, he comes near. “Do you like them?”

“What are they?” I ask. In the dark, I can't see anything but glinting metal.

Light floods the room when he pulls a chain above my head.

“It's my collection of knives,” he says and I shiver, remembering the dagger running through Chancellor Kole's heart. Every other feeling I had for him dissipates, replaced by blinding anger.

“Knives used to kill,” I say, my voice is hushed with anger. I face him in time to see pain flicker across his eyes.

“I don't kill,” he says softly. “I only follow orders.”

His face is downcast, sad. And I don’t understand how he could switch to a completely different person in mere heartbeats.

“You don’t have to follow orders,” I say quietly. “You don’t have to do what the Queen tells you to do. You’re not a tool.”

Like I am.

“You have no idea what I am,” he says quietly, his eyes flashing.

I bark a laugh and step away from him. But I realize something. “We’re not much different. You can’t say I don’t understand.”

He clenches his jaw in answer. Something passes over his face, something like hopelessness, before he crosses the room and opens the door on the left. I stare at his retreating figure and the slight droop in his shoulders.

My words struck.

I take a deep breath and follow him into the living room, where the door to the outside stands. It takes everything in me not to fling it open and burst into the freedom of the outdoors, however dry and bloody and barren it may be.

Rowan takes one look at my face and a sliver of a smile flashes across his face. I ignore him.

He may have me under lock and key. But my thoughts, every single one of them, are mine.

Even if they are sometimes in his favor.

Rowan is silent. He pushes his hands into his pockets and stares into the distance.

From where I stand, I can see the white towers of the palace spiraling into the cloudless sky. The stars are few tonight, and I wonder if many of them are hiding in shame, saddened to see me with Rowan instead of his mirror.

Or maybe they’re in mourning. Julian is imprisoned. Being tortured. And here I am, dressing in lavish gowns and following Rowan as if I am sick. Out of my mind.

Maybe I am.

“The palace isn't as pretty inside and you know it.”

“It isn't,” I agree. “I was just waiting for you.”

Those are my words, but with my tone, I tell him I wasn't waiting for him. I want him to know he will never have full control over me.

He lips twist into a half-smile and he shrugs as if he knows something I do not. I pretend it doesn't faze me. But it does. And I want more than anything to know what lies in his mind.

I
need
to know, if I am to save Julian.

And there’s only one way to get it.

Warnings blare in my mind as I think of this new possibility. I close off the reasoning voice begging me to end the absurdity before it begins.

And make my decision on a whim.

I reach up, entwining my arms around his slender neck, pulling him close. It’s an act. It means nothing. But my heart races, my insides tremble. My skin burns where it touches his.