He shot off, “You don’t have anyone else. No one. I know this.”
“You’re right. I’ll figure it out,” I said, looking down at my toes and trying not to cry. Because I knew this was true, but having him throw that in my face was humiliating and emotionally overwhelming. The damn mylunate was winking up at me, taunting me. He hadn’t taken it from me, which was strange. I needed to get out of here. Needed to!
Turning away, I headed for the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m done with this house of horrors. I want to go home.”
“You aren’t going anywhere.” He grabbed for me one last time, but just that attempt gave me permission, and I swung back around and shoved him away with a ragged grunt, finally letting my own rage loose physically. Not that it did much good, since it felt like I was trying to shove a building or something. He didn’t move. He did smirk, though.
It was the proverbial last straw. It was like waving a red flag. I refused to be disregarded or found to be amusing in a patronizing way even one more time!
“You think I can’t take you?” I cried out. I faced off and got into my fighting stance, yanking the hem of my dress up so my thighs could move more freely. If I’d had a hair band, I’d have gotten really trailer on him and put my hair back, which in my culture signified readiness to fight.
He made the mistake of showing a trace of real humor in his eyes, mostly because I think he could read my thoughts, which served to create a hot, red haze of tunnel vision. I was tired of feeling out of control and manipulated. I was tired of feeling like there was something beyond me, something more than what I could see, pulling my strings. Angry adrenaline pumped through my system. The next thing I knew, I let out a cry and threw a roundhouse kick and a back kick, which he had to quickly dodge, much to my wickedly delighted eyes.
“Cut it out,” he snarled, clearly surprised, circling me just out of reach. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
“Too late!” I threw a front kick that he managed to catch and toss away, but it didn’t keep me down. A side kick caught his hip, and he slapped it away. There wasn’t much room to work, due to the furniture and all, but being the more compact of the two of us, I was doing just fine. I noted this with an evil tilt of my lips, which had his eyes narrowing.
“This isn’t going to help things,” he growled, getting into his own fighting stance.
“But it’ll make me feel better!” It was entirely satisfying to note that he felt the need to get into a defensive position.
I knew he was going to try to rush me. It was in his eyes. They were calculating the distance separating us. As I saw it coming, I did a jumping side kick that tagged him in the kisser, snapping his head back. When he stepped back to catch himself, his foot caught on the leg of his armchair, and he went down with a roar.
Surprise and dismay at my own success gave me pause, but only for a split second before I spun around to run for the door and found...air. Forgetting the room was slightly raised, I stepped out into nothing and did an ungainly sprawl that landed me on all fours on the beautiful stone. I cried out.
“Taylor!” Ryder was on me in a flash, kneeling beside me, his hands gently turning me over.
“Get away from me!” I kicked out at him, just barely missing his ribs, when he tried to pick me up. He immediately sprawled over me to keep my limbs pinned. With my arms shackled by one of his hands and his thighs bracketing mine, I couldn’t move. I struggled briefly, venting the final surge of fury I’d felt. We’d done this before! I’d gone through this already!
And still, a touch of blood dotted his lip and part of me wanted to wipe it away and apologize for hurting him.
Thank you sir, may I please I have another? Sick puppy. Me.
So weird. So dangerous. Needed to get away from him. Needed to save myself. This was going to finish me if I stuck around. Needed to figure something out for myself or I’d get lost in him, and he’d eventually be done with me. I still hadn’t recovered from being left by my mother. I’d loved her so much. She’d meant the world to me, and I knew that didn’t make sense, considering what she’d done. Not really. I couldn’t risk letting Ryder have that kind of power over me.
“Stop fighting so we can talk,” he growled, his eyes angrily, desperately searching mine. Energy seemed to crackle and snap, the air humming as our emotions spiked.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” The tears that had been threatening finally gave way. “Just get away from me. I’m tired of this—having to figure out where I stand with you, having to defend myself. I just want to go home. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this.”
After a moment, the anger left his face. With his free hand, he gently wiped at the moisture, leaving wet trails toward my temples. “I need to know where it came from,” he said firmly. “Face it. You are totally alone. You need my help. I can’t give it to you until you tell me the truth.”
I turned my face away, slamming my eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. He had all this ammunition he could use against me. He’d been spying on me, but I was being seen as the liar? Might as well just tell him, so I could get away from him.
So I summarized the facts. I kept up a monotone and refused to look at him throughout my telling.
“Reggie sent me to do some errand at his house. I was looking for something to write with and on in one of his kitchen drawers, so I could leave a note. This stuff was in his drawer, and it just grabbed onto me when I touched it. It was fascinating, and I started playing with it. It reminded me of the liquid-metal dude in that one movie. Anyway, Frank scared me, coming at me in a crazed sort of way, and I ran out of the house, forgetting that I was still holding the stuff.”
“Frank?”
“Reggie’s boyfriend. And I was so sure I was going to get canned for handling the situation like such a dweeb that I kept the thing on, so I would remember to return it to Reggie. I was so sure that even with a big apology, I was going to lose my job, but at the very least, I wanted to return it because I’m not a criminal.” I said that last part pointedly, opening my eyes to look at him as I did. “Then he surprised me with this lunch thing with Paul, and I forgot anyway.”
I didn’t know if any of this was making sense, but I kept my mind wide-open to him so he could see the truth for himself.
“Can you work up a mental image of Frank for me?”
Closing my eyes again, I could more easily focus, thinking of the luncheon the previous day when I shook his hand in greeting.
“It’s just as I thought.” Ryder let out a breath. “Frank is Ranik Grayson.”
“He’s the guy you accused me of working for, isn’t he? You thought I was working for Frank.” My voice sounded dull and lifeless to my own ears.
“We’ve been chasing Ranik Grayson for years, but he’s got too many followers who are willing to shield him. He pays well until he doesn’t need you anymore. Then he gets rid of you because you can identify him.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. “You thought I was one of those people?”
He gazed back at me steadily. “I did.”
“Let me up,” I said stonily. I tried to move my limbs out from under him, but he didn’t relent.
“Not yet. We’re not done here.”
“I’m done.”
“I need you to hear this.”
“Fine. Say it fast. I want to get the fuck out of here,” I stated calmly.
It didn’t make sense that I was feeling so incredibly hurt, because we hadn’t made any promises to each other, but so what? Who said things had to make sense? Understanding why and acceptance were two different things. Shit was going down in his world, and I, through circumstances, had become a suspect. I definitely understood how that had happened. But he was the one who came on to me, who violated my dreams and who let me trust that he was a regular, everyday kind of guy.