Inception (The Marked Book 1) (12 page)

14. strictly business

The warm heat radiating from the vents felt like a godsend against my skin, which had all but anesthetized itself from the cold. Trace was leaning forward in his seat and checking his lip in the rear-view mirror, angling his face as he appraised the damage. I found myself watching him without meaning to, my eyes taking in the hard edges to his face, the deep indentations in his cheeks, the fullness of his heart-shaped lips...

It really wasn’t hard to see why a girl might become slightly unhinged around him—
for
him.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, wincing as he patted the cut with his finger.

“Nah. I’ve had worse,” he said and relaxed back in his seat.

I hadn’t actually been alone with Trace since the
incident
last Wednesday. We carried on as if it never even happened, dutifully avoiding any real conversations and ensuring neither one of us had a chance to bring it up. It was just as well, I had no desire to talk about it anyway.

“You want my jacket?” he offered. He was looking outside the driver side window when he asked. “You’re shaking.”

I hadn’t realized my shivering was that obvious, especially since I hadn’t seen him look at me once since we got into the car. “I’m okay, thanks.”

He griped the steering wheel with one hand and threw the car in gear with the other, jolting me forward a little as he backed out of his parking spot.

“So what happened back there?” I asked out of curiosity and a newfound urge to make conversation with him.

“Back there?”

“The fight.”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road.

When he didn’t offer anything up, I pressed on. “Did you know those guys?”

“Not really.”

I looked him over. “Do you make habits out of fighting with people you don’t know?”

“Do you make habits out of asking so many questions?” he responded crudely.

Alrighty
then. I could totally take a hint.

“Sorry I asked,” I said in the same tone and then twisted my body away from the sudden arctic chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

Neither one of us said another word until we hit Main Street ten minutes later. The entire street seemed eerily quiet, and sort of deserted as most of the shops had already closed up hours ago. Everyone who might be out on a Friday night was either still at the game, at an after-party, or on their way to one.

“Mind if we stop for food?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“You’re the boss.” I answered without looking.

He turned into the parking lot of the next burger place and pulled into the first spot before killing the engine. There was a grand total of two cars in the entire lot. I was surprised they stayed open for this kind of business, or lack thereof.

“What are you having?” he asked as he swung open his door.

“Nothing for me,” I said as I glanced over my shoulder at the empty parking lot, scanning the barely lit street adjacent to the lot. The neighborhood looked questionable, at best.

Maybe it was the lack of street lights, or just my own paranoia, but waiting out here by myself suddenly didn’t feel like an altogether great idea.

“I’m ordering you
something
,” he persisted. “Might as well tell me what you like.”

“Sure, that’s fine.” I wasn’t paying attention anymore. I flung my passenger side door open and climbed out. “I’m coming inside with you.”

I caught his stare over the roof of his car, his expression bewildered by my bizarro behavior, and then his eyes softened some, seemingly treated with a dose of understanding.

Once inside the restaurant, I made my way to a two-seater table by the window facing the parking lot and waited while Trace ordered his food. I felt safer having a panorama view of the area in case I needed to, I don’t know, run for my life.

After a few minutes, Trace appeared with the food.

“I got you a cheeseburger and fries, and one of those strawberry shakes you order at lunch sometimes.” He pushed the tray in front of me and sat down.

I stared back at him, surprised that he noticed what I ordered at lunch, especially since his eyes generally spent most of their time in another direction (that direction being
any
direction that wasn’t mine). Or at least that’s how it seemed.

He dropped his eyes and picked up his own cheeseburger, sinking his teeth in and biting off nearly a quarter of it.

“Thanks,” I said, examining his ever-guarded expression. “How much do I owe you?”

He looked up from his dark lashes and shook his head.

I thanked him again and turned my attention back to the window, keeping care of my surroundings.

“How have you been?” he asked after a short pause. His voice was low, cautious. “Since the other night,” he added unnecessarily. I already knew what we were talking about.

His eyes bounced around my face as though he were trying to gauge my answer before I gave it.

“Fine.” I forced a smile.

“Did you talk to your uncle about what happened?” He picked up his burger without looking up this time.

I shook my head.

“Why not?” he asked, meeting my eyes again.

I felt his leg brush up against mine and nearly lost my train of thought. “I...I’d rather just forget the whole thing.”

“That’s pretty stupid,” he said under his breath, though it was more than audible.

“
Excuse
me?”

Where the hell did he get off judging me? He had no idea what I’d been through. What I was
still
going through. I was barely hanging on as it was, coping the only way I knew how. Who was he to tell me that it was wrong?

A jeering rumble emitted from him. “It’s wrong. And stupid. I don’t really care how you justify it.”

My head snapped up and locked in on his hooded eyes. Why did that sound like he just answered my thought?

He took a sip of his drink, and then sank back in his chair. His legs stretched out in front of him, coming out on either side of me—fencing me in.

“Pretending something didn’t happen, doesn’t make it go away. You get that right?”

“I’m not pretending it didn’t happen.” It came out far more defensive than I had intended it to.

“No?” He raised his brows. “What do you call it then?”

“I call it…” I didn’t have an answer. “Just mind your own business and stay out of mine!”

“Believe me,” he grumbled. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder then. Shouldn’t this already be like second nature to you by now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, leaning in again.

I matched his advance. “It means, you should have plenty experience staying out of my life since you’ve pretty much treated me like I was the Plague ever since I moved here.”

He raised his brows slightly. “Is that what you think?”

“Are you saying it’s not true?”

His eyes flickered down to my mouth. Something flashed through them though it was gone before I could make it out.

“All I’m saying is, I think you should be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” I scoffed, though it lacked punch.

He seemed to be assessing me again, looking for unspecified particulars on my face, in my body language. “What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t been there that night? If I didn’t come out when I did?”

I felt a cold chill zip down my spine. I know exactly what would have happened if Trace hadn’t been there to save me.

“Yeah, it’s none of my business,” he agreed, leaning back again. “But if I were you, I’d make sure I was ready for
next time
.”

“Next time?” I repeated incredulously. I hadn’t exactly thought as far as
next time
, or what I might do if I came face to face with another one. I was still pretty swamped with trying to forget the last time. I crossed my arms in defiance. “I’m not planning on a next time.”

He laughed grimly. “Life doesn’t give a shit about your plans.” There was real truculence there, dark undertones of anger, and pain, and regret. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of this had to do with his sister—with her murder.

Even though what happened to his sister and what happened to me the other night were completely different and unrelated, I could see how
he
might equate the two. And I could certainly understand where he was coming from, and the point that he was trying to make, despite its crude delivery. We lived in a dangerous world, and the bottom line was that I needed to learn how to defend myself against predators—whether the human variety, or otherwise.

I nodded weakly, the only response I was willing to give.

He licked his lips and leaned back in his chair. “Like I said, none of my business.”

15. FACE OFF

Dominic arrived at the house around a quarter past nine, dressed to kill in black slacks and a button-down dress shirt. He had a penchant for black clothing, it would seem, though I could hardly be persuaded to mind. It made his skin and hair absolutely glow in contrast, and when necessary, allowed me to easily coordinate my own outfit—dark jeans and a simple black lace camisole.

Like most of the privileged people from these parts, Caleb and Carly’s house sat at the base of a cul-de-sac in a gated neighborhood not far from my uncle’s house. The grand moonbeam-colored house was lit up with spotlights and was belting out music that reached far past the borders of their sprawling front yard. It was a packed house, evidenced by the circular driveway filled to the brim with cars that spilled out onto the surrounding street, forcing us to park several houses down.

An obscene ice sculpture greeted us on the front stoop.

“Is that a—”

“Indeed it is,” answered Dominic as he ticked his chin to a sign that read, “Enter all ye who like to party.”

There was no way Carly approved this. “How gross.”

Dominic walked in ahead of me, towing me behind him as I acclimated to the change of scenery, to the watchful eyes. It was dark inside, heated, and loud, with people packed in at every corner—dancing, grinding, chatting in small groups, and throwing back questionable drinks from oversized, red plastic cups. One could easily be swallowed up by a crowd like this but Dominic glided through it with ease. It was like the parting of the seas the way people stepped out of his path; girls snapping their necks around to look at him, to devour him with their eyes as he passed. I wondered if he knew the effect he had on the opposite sex. The sheer desire he incited in them.

He had to know. Nobody could be
that
oblivious.

Taylor came sailing out of the kitchen as soon as she saw us round the corner, her golden hair bouncing freely around her back as a look of mischief danced across her face. I caught a glimpse of a few familiar faces over her shoulder, namely a disinterested Trace who was leaning back against a counter, his personal space completely swallowed up by a brunette in a skintight blue dress—undoubtedly Nikki.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” she squealed, throwing her arms around my neck and bouncing us around like a jackrabbit.

She pulled back and eyed Dominic, grinning her approval.

“This is my friend Taylor,” I bellowed over the music, making an official introduction.

He tipped his head to her, flashing one of his debonair smiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Taylor.”

“God. You’re like, smoking hot.”

“Taylor!”

“What? He is!” she laughed. “And you smell to die for. Seriously, what cologne is that?”

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

It seemed that with just a smile and a few blinks of his smoldering eyes, Taylor had been reduced to a blushing heap of mush—fawning over everything from his scent, to his hair, to his car. Of course, Dominic didn’t seem to mind it in the slightest, and may have even been enjoying it, so I just smiled along with them and let her rant go on uninterrupted. As entertaining as they were, it still wasn’t very long before I found my own eyes drifting back towards the kitchen.

Back to Trace.

The conversation between us last night had gone from icy to nuclear and then back again in a matter of minutes, and left me agitated long after we left the restaurant. I couldn’t figure out what it was about him that got under my skin so easily.

Maybe it was that ever-guarded exterior he wore like body armor, or the way he could validate or dismiss me with a minor shift of those piercing, reticent eyes. Or how he always seemed to be there at the most pivotal moments—like when I fainted at work, or when I was attacked behind All Saints. It was peculiar.

Everything I knew about him amounted to nothing and only left me with more questions. And a longing. A longing for answers, and for something else. Something I couldn’t even name.

Trace looked up at me just then, meeting my prying eyes with his own blend of curiosity. The connection made my breath hitch, but I kept my eyes locked on him, and his on mine. There was something special about those eyes—

“Helloooo?” Taylor waved her hand in front of my face.

“Huh?” My cheeks heated up as I realized her and Dominic were both staring at me, waiting for me to answer a question I hadn’t heard. “I’m sorry, what are we talking about?”

“We’re inquiring about drinks,” she laughed.

“What about them?”

“Whether you’d like one, love,” Dominic whispered into my ear, his cologne filling up my space with its delicious scent.

I started to turn to face him and felt his lips graze against my cheek. I stopped before making the full rotation, knowing where his lips would end up if I completed it.

I nodded instead.

On our way to the kitchen, we landed in the middle of an argument between a red-headed sophomore and her boyfriend (who were both visibly upset and completely blocking the entry), arguing about whether she was flirting with some guy named Toby. Or Tony.

Judging by their slurred speech and glazed eyes, they were definitely drunk on a lot more than just love.

Taylor, never one to shy away from...well anything, was quick to wrap her arm around the feuding couple and offer mock consolation as she guided them out of the kitchen. I watched as she tactically inserted a freshman mediator into the car wreck of a scene and then slipped out unnoticed.

Clearly this wasn’t her first drunken rodeo.

Seconds later, she was back in the kitchen introducing Dominic to the rest of the girls who promptly swarmed around him, cooing and pawing at him, and (most likely) unintentionally pushing me out of the circle. The whole thing was ridiculous.

I backed out and headed to the breakfast-table-turned-bar where I poured myself a glass of soda from the sidelines.

“Hey, Blackburn.”

I jumped at the sound of his voice in my ear, nearly spilling my drink on myself in the process.

It was the hockey player slash party host.

“Hey, Caleb.” I patted down my shirt to make sure I wasn’t soaked in cola. “Great party.”

“Glad you could make it.” He smiled warmly and took a sip of his own drink. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah, definitely, it’s amazing.”
Amazing
? Okay, so I was exaggerating a little. There was no law against it.

I put my cup down and refilled my drink.

“I saw you at the game yesterday,” he said, bending forward slightly to catch my eye, his chestnut hair and high cheekbones highlighted under the dim overhead lights. “I wanted to talk to you after the game, but you left before I got a chance.”

“Sorry, I had an early curfew—”

“Thanks for bringing the lady-bandit,” interrupted Ben, appearing beside Caleb and I, visibly annoyed as he nudged his chin towards Dominic and his adoring fan-girls. “There’s like fifteen girls around him.”

“No there isn’t.” I stifled a laugh. “There’s probably like five, six tops.” It didn’t matter either way, I was fairly certain that Ben was only concerned about
one
particular girl from the bunch anyway. Not that he’d admit it.

“You came with him?” asked Caleb, eying Dominic now.

“Yeah…I hope that’s okay?” I suddenly felt weirded-out, like maybe it was inappropriate, or presumptuous, to invite him without clearing it with the hosts first.

“Sure, it’s no problem,” he said smiling. It seemed sincere.

I looked back at where Trace and Nikki had been standing and found the spot empty. He was gone. Both of them were. Probably together. I didn’t want to care, but I kind of did.

I turned back to Dominic and found him still backed up against the wall, surrounded by my half-inebriated classmates. He looked over at me and twisted his lips into a smile. A fully kissable, dangerous smile.

He bent forward and whispered something to the girls and just like that, slipped through the pinning crowd and began walking back over to me, slowly, confidently, far more sure of himself than any other guy at this party.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” He punctuated his words with a gentle caress of my cheek.

I shook my head, biting my lower lip.

A look of torture took hold of his face when his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Simply ravishing.”

Funny, I was thinking the same thing about him. I could feel my heart rate climbing again.

He took a step forward, fully breaking the bounds of my personal space, and leaned in close to me like only he knew how to do. I was half expecting him to jam a purse or a cup into my belly when he said, “would you like to get out of here?”

Something in his eyes was tempting me—
daring
me, and I was nodding even before my brain had a chance to process the offer, or what exactly I might have been agreeing to.

“I just need to use the ladies room,” I blurted out and then sashayed around him before he had a chance to respond. I snatched Taylor by the wrist on my way out of the kitchen.

“What’s up, babe?” she asked as we pushed through the boiling crowd of people.

We needed a new plan for meeting up tonight being that I was supposed to be sleeping over at her house. And I needed a splash of cold water to help get my wits together.

“Bathroom?” I asked, and then followed her upstairs to the second floor washroom.

“Look who it is, Mor.”

Nikki and Morgan were standing in front of the door with hands on their hips and scowls on their lips as soon as we rounded the corner. Somehow, it didn’t feel like a coincidence.

“Excuse us,” I said and tried to cut in between them.

“Actually, you’re not excused,” sneered Nikki as she stepped in front of me and blocked the door. “I think it’s time the two of us had ourselves a little chat.”

I crossed my arms protectively. I had no idea what she could possibly need to discuss with me (or whether or not she had any more liquor bombs planned) but I had the sneaking suspicion I wasn’t getting out of here until I heard her out.

“Trace and I are getting back together,” she blurted, smacking her scarlet lips together. “We were together last night. I just thought you should hear it from me first.”

I held myself as taut as I could and tried not to give away any of the feelings rocketing through me just then—anger, annoyance, disappointment.
Jealousy
.

I was unsure how to process any of this, but the last thing I wanted to do was let Nikki know she was getting to me.

“That’s really great for you,” I offered, my voice noticeably on edge. “And you’re telling me this because...?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” she snorted. “You’re even denser than you look, you know that?”

“Quit giving her a hard time, Nikki.” Taylor squirmed her way in between us. “She’s not after Trace, okay? She’s here with Dominic Huntington so just back off.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” snapped Nikki as she shoved her back a step.

“Hey!” I flung my arm out in front of Taylor. “Leave her out of this,” I warned, forming a barrier between the two of them.

“Look who’s finally growing a backbone—how very stupid of you,” snarled Nikki, insulting me and provoking me at the same time. “So tell me, Jemma, does Dominic know about your late night dates with Trace? Because I’m sure he’d be interested to hear all about them. I know
I
was.”

“What late night date?” I could hear the hurt in Taylor’s voice at the idea that I was keeping secrets from her.

“There was no late night date,” I said definitively, my eyes never leaving Nikki. “And honestly, I don’t think he would care. He doesn’t strike me as the insecure-raging-bitch type.”

Morgan’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

Oh my God! Who gave my mouth permission to say that?

Nikki took a step into me. “What. Did. You. Just. Say?”

The house lights flickered on and off.

There must have been a storm coming in, though something about the air felt menacing, ominous, like a whispered warning, heeding me to back off. Playing with Nikki was like playing with fire, and I was bound to get burned.

              I
so
didn’t want to get burned.

              I needed to diffuse this, and fast. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you, Nikki. We obviously got off on the wrong foot—”

“Spare me the bullshit,” she cut in, her lips in a frightening curl. “You pretty much sealed your fate the minute you moved here, and the way I see it, any girl with a death wish as big as yours is free game.”

I staggered back a step, her strange threat having just sucker punched me in the gut.

“Whoa!” Taylor raised her arms in the air like a referee. “I think we need to calm down with the homicidal threats and take it down a few notches.”

“She’s right. C’mon Nikki, let’s just go,” said Morgan nervously, turning for the stairs.