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Authors: Mari Arden

Flame (Fireborn) (27 page)

BOOK: Flame (Fireborn)
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Somehow he feels my
pain. He knows how deep it goes. He does something in my mind, and
for a second it almost feels like he's holding my hand. I clasp my
fingers together, but they're cold. Another shift ripples in my head,
and there's something pleasant coming over my body, humming as it
gently spreads over me.

I buzz with pleasure. I
can feel his smile. My aches and pains from the last couple of days
are being massaged out, which isn't possible, but the sensations he's
creating in my head make everything feel pleasant.

"Why are you doing
this?" I stretch to feel more.

I like it when you
feel good,
he says. Another hot blush instantly fans through my
face, and I look away.

He laughs.
You're
adorable, Kenna.
Which only makes me feel
less
adorable,
and acutely embarrassed. I tell myself he's a cold- blooded human
kidnapper, but the warm tingles inside my body make it hard to
remember that.

Unexpectedly, I'm
bombarded with sights, and feelings, and sounds. At first it's coming
so fast I feel like I'm right in the middle of a twister. I see
colors, and they're so intense I want to shield my eyes.

Sorry,
he
apologizes.

The images come again,
but this time they're muted so I can see without hurting. He shows me
a door opening, then a flash of light. A thunderous roar is heard,
and it sounds like waves crashing. He blinks, and I realize what I
think are waves are actually a sea of human faces applauding. He's
sharing his first memory of landing in Hugo. The adoration from the
crowd is so potent he can still feel the vibrations from it weeks
later.

Abruptly, I draw back.
Why are you doing this to us when you feel something like that?
I ask bitterly.
They love you, Rhys. And you turn us into slaves.

It's complicated,
Kenna.

No,
you're
making it complicated!
I retort back.
Fix it. Help us get out
of here.

He sighs.
You'll
survive, Kenna.

Maybe.
I doubt
it.

You will,
he
insists.

"How?"
Will
you
save me?

Silence.

No.
His voice
sounds raspy.

Didn't think so.
"Then it's going to be pretty damn impossible, isn't it?"

Another silence.
Do
you want me to leave?

No.
"Yes."

Kenna.
Rhys's
voice is a whisper, and it's filled with a hint of longing.

Hot and cold,
I
think angrily.

When he leaves I cover
my face with my hands, knowing I'm truly alone in my prison, and in
my head.

Chapter 17

The next morning I
awake with less soreness in my body, but my mind is completely
battered. I have a pounding headache, and my veins are pulsing like
they're going to burst.

"All clear."

The doors open, and I
step wearily out. The usual Saguinox guard is not here. Instead, the
female guard from the cave is standing at the end of the hall, alert.
I suck in a breath when I recognize her as the one who almost caught
me down at the caves. Her spiky blonde hair looks pointier in the
dreary room, and a nose ring glints menacingly underneath the glare
of hot lights. Her hair is cropped short to her head, and the chains
on her belt and pants make her look sinister. She carries herself
like a Goth, but her glowing eyes are amber, and the furthest thing
from black.

"All the females
will be coming with me," she informs us. Her announcement is met
with varying degrees of horror, and she smiles, relishing the fear.
"The men will stay behind." She pauses, making certain all
attention is on her. "They will wait for the crystal."

Shock ripples through
us, and my eyes can't help but go to the two men near me. One is
going to vomit, and the other is very thin, and seems to close his
eyes in acceptance. The girl across from me is silently sobbing,
barely touching the man next to her. His eyes are still closed, and
he's breathing heavily. Even though they've probably never talked,
both have lived side by side for days, eating, working, and breathing
together. That sort of relationship makes a different kind of
connection, one that distresses when severed.

The guards gesture to
us, and we begin marching. Even though it's forbidden I glance back
for one last look. One still has his eyes closed, his face more
serene than I've ever seen. The other has his eyes open, and they're
following us.

He sees me turning, and
stares at me in shock. My gaze doesn't leave his though, and I try to
say with my eyes, what I can't with my mouth. He seems to understand,
and he gives me the slightest hint of a smile. As I watch, something
comes over him. He clenches his jaw, staring at the guard following
us. His hands curl into fists at his sides. He's slowly straightening
his back, and he winces like it's painful, but he ignores it, arching
his back, raising his head, and standing tall.

Defiant.

For one dangerous
moment he is as tall as the guards.

That's the last image I
see before I force myself to turn away. With one blink he is gone
from my vision.

I didn't even know his
name, but I play his face in my mind over and over again to make sure
I remember what it looks like to stand tall.

* * *

We're moving toward a
part of the compound I've never seen before. My heart is pounding
with the adrenaline of what I want to do. I sneak secret glances
around me, desperate to glean as much information as I can. Dreary
gray walls are all I see. We're shuffling our bodies, marching
softly, surrounded by four guards who are as mute as we are.

After a couple minutes
I notice I'm no longer on concrete. Instead we're walking on wooden
floors now. They're shiny and strangely clean. Seconds later we enter
through a door. My eyes drift up, and I see a glimpse of white
ceilings and a door before I'm ushered through it.

The first thing I feel
is warmth. Sweaty air swirls around me, and goose bumps shoot down my
body. Then I see the floor, and it's completely white, like thick
cream. The white is spotless, and very shiny, and I can't help but
wonder how they keep it so clean. Immediately I hear scrubbing
sounds, and out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of pale hands
scouring the ground. We take a few more steps and stop, one body
behind the other, still in two perfect rows. We shift until our
shoulders almost touch, facing inward and wait.

The Saguinox female is
walking in the center, slowly examining us. When she gets to me, I
lower my eyes, holding my breath. The seconds tick by before she
finally grunts, moving to the person next to me. Nymphora catches my
eyes, mouthing
what is going on?
I only shake my head in
answer because, really, I'm the newbie here.
She
probably
knows more than me.

After many torturous
minutes the Saguinox walks back to the center and claps her hands for
our attention. I roll my eyes because it isn't necessary, considering
the only sounds heard are her heavy walking. I glance up as she
begins to talk, and my eyes widen as I notice something behind her.

A door.

It's barely visible,
neatly camouflaged just like the windows and doors on their ships
are. My curiosity piqued, it takes every ounce of willpower to look
away.

"The one thing you
all have in common are the disgusting smells that roll off of you
like shit. We have pets on Sangine that smell less than you,"
she snickers. I grate my teeth in anger. "No one can be offered
smelling or looking like you do."

My heart clenches in my
chest.
Offered?

"This is the
bathing room." She gestures up and around, but I know better
than to raise my head to look. "New offerings will be given to
you to wear. Your job is to clean yourselves and make your body
presentable. If you're around filth enough, you start to stink like
it. And I'm tired of smelling shit."

My chest is squeezing
itself, and I glance at Chloris. She looks as sick as I feel. I'd
never seen a green face go white before.

The guard's voice is
hard as she continues. "Escape is an illusion. Should you
attempt, he will find you, and you will be very sorry." With the
standard Saguinox warning issued, she turns her back, and walks out.
We're left with three smirking guards who suddenly look very
interested in us and I want to vomit.

"You may go,"
she calls to us over her shoulders, but we're not sure what she means
or where to go. I look up, and gasp at what I see. My eyes drift over
white walls, and white floors. To the side of us are golden curtains.
I assume they're shower curtains because there are white tiles
underneath. A showerhead peeks through, glinting. To the other side
of us is a petite fountain. It's gorgeous and grand, something found
in aristocratic homes in ancient Greece. Blue water shimmers inside,
and everything is so beautiful I almost forget where I am. This place
is a stark contrast to our prison cells. Just being here makes me
feel cleaner.

"What. The. Heck."
Nymphora whispers to me, sliding closer. "They work us all day,
then they want us clean and bring us to a place like
this
?"

I shake my head. "I
don't understand. Do you think they're planning to sacrifice all of
us in one final, grand offering?"

She looks bleaker than
I've ever seen her. "I don't know."

None of us are sure
what to do so we follow each other. One enters into a shower stall,
and slips her dress off, leaving it hanging on the shower curtain. I
glance at the guards, and they're watching us with hot gazes. One in
particular is staring hard at Chloris, his gaze too forceful for my
liking. My hands curl into fists, and I resist the urge to smack the
smiles from their faces. I'm stubborn, and I endure as long as I can.
Before long, hot air from each stall drifts over, beckoning me. I can
smell dirt and sweat on my body, and the warmth is so delightful I
finally give in.

Raising the heavy
golden curtains, I marvel at the clean tiles, and the shiny
showerhead. It looks more expensive than anything I've ever been able
to afford. The irony doesn't escape me: I'm locked in a prison,
worked to death, but dressed in couture red, showering in a palatial
bathroom.

This is so sick.

It reminds me of
prisoners on death row. The night before they're sentenced to die
they get to choose any meal they want. It can be as elaborate as they
desire, one last piece of heaven before they're shut out forever.
That thought leaves a dry taste in my mouth, and I don't enjoy the
shower as much as I want to.

Pulling off my dress, I
hang it over the shower curtains. It's not very high and my head and
neck are still visible. I turn a knob and instantly hot water
cascades over my skin, making my hair heavy. My brown locks turn
black when wet, and I move it to the side, clutching the showerhead.
I can hear the deep voices of the male guards, and I give them my
back, seething with hatred. I hear fabric slipping down, and I turn
just in time to see one take my dress, grinning wickedly as his eyes
travel down my skin.

My hands are hot, and I
lift my fist, but the sound of something smoldering distracts me.
What the--

I gasp as I look down,
seeing my small fist
smoking
under the water. I shout out, but
the water overpowers my cries. I look frantically around to see if
anyone notices, but no one does, enjoying their last bit of comfort
before the doom. Nymphora is beside me, and she looks curious at my
frantic expression. I raise my fist to show her, but the smoke is
gone, devoured by a torrent of water. Her expression is puzzled, and
I turn back, shaking with a new fear.

Something's wrong with
me. Rhys's voice in my head, and the strange hotness in my body. I
try to cover every inch of my skin with water, desperate to drown out
the heat inside.

Nymphora walks by,
wrapped in a red towel. She hands me the one in her hands, and I wrap
it securely around my chest before stepping out. The first things I
notice are the other girls. Some are taking showers for a second or
third time, basking in the little comfort. Others are lounging
around, sitting on the ledge of the fountain. They don't talk much
because there isn't much to say. For an instant, the sight looks
normal like a bunch of girls having a spa day. Nymphora, with her
blue skin steps into view, and the picture breaks, replaced with a
more stark reality.

The second thing I
notice is there are no guards in sight. I stop short, blinking, but
no glowing eyes appear. I'm not stupid enough to think of escape, but
my mind is anxious as another idea sprouts.

"Nymphora," I
talk casually, standing beside her. "Do you see what I'm
seeing?"

She glances around
nonchalantly, lazily turning her head. "No guards."

"Exactly," I
murmur. We both catch each other's eyes, thinking the same thing.

"We probably don't
have much time. But it's not likely we'll get another chance."

She's nodding. "Yes.
We'll need someone to watch for us, warn us when they come."
Simultaneously, we both search for a spot of green. It doesn't take
long to find Chloris. She's off to the side, away from the group. Her
eyes are half closed, and she looks deep in thought.

"Maybe I should be
the one to ask her," I glance at Nymphora. "Something tells
me you two aren't the best of friends." Her nostrils flare out
in agreement, but she doesn't elaborate further. There isn't a lot of
time so I don't hesitate, strolling with determination forward.

"Hi Chloris."

She opens one eye to
look at me. "Aren't you supposed to be plotting something stupid
and deadly right about now? No one's around to catch you."

BOOK: Flame (Fireborn)
9.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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