Page 65 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

THIRTY-TWO

JAMES

I woke up in the middle of the night. We had gone to bed around three in the morning, so it wasn’t much later—maybe four, four thirty. Why had I woken up?

Still sleep-dazed, I took out my EarPods. The alarm I had installed hadn’t gone off, so there hadn’t been a breach of my loft, nor the bedroom. But as I looked over to the bed, I nearly had a heart attack when I found it empty.

I jumped to my feet so fast I almost lost my balance and hurried to the door but halted abruptly when I heard it. Sobbing. It was muffled but unmistakable.

Softly opening the door, I noticed Emma sitting on the couch, her back turned to me.

I closed my eyes, drowning out the pain I felt for her, when I realized she wasn’t just sobbing but full-on crying. I swallowed, realizing this was the first time she had cried since her arrival at Cyclos.

My insides warmed, knowing she felt safe enough in my home to allow herself to be that vulnerable.

But at the same time, my murderous instincts surged, wanting to eradicate every single person who had contributed to her current state—starting with the remaining Radicals I still had in custody, who would be gone from this earth by tomorrow.

I almost left her there to do just that.

The only reason stopping me was sobbing on my couch.

I wanted to go over there, offer her some comfort, but I had no words. What would I say? Sorry you were abducted and tapped like a cheap pint of beer? Sorry I couldn’t protect you from it?

The guilt nearly consumed me whenever the images of that night popped back into my mind.

What else could I say?

Sorry I’ve been such a distant ass these last few weeks and made you feel like you were all alone in the world?

Sorry I ripped you away from a world where you felt safe and cared for?

None of those, however true, would help.

I had nothing to say, nothing to give, except for the thing every instinct in my body screamed at me to do.

Opening my eyes again, I stepped through the door into the living room. I approached her softly and slid in behind her on the couch.

Pulling my arms around her, I could feel how rigid her entire body had gone. Her cries made her heave and gasp for oxygen, and with every inhale, I pulled her in closer.

And so I held her like that, stiff as an ox, while she cried in my arms for the horrible crimes committed against her.

No idea how long we sat like that before her body relaxed into mine, but when it finally did, I pulled her into my chest, where her cries returned to smaller sobs.

Where her sobs went quiet but didn’t entirely disappear.

Until she fell asleep.

I laid her softly on the couch, careful not to wake her, and covered her with the blanket that had been resting on the arm.

I brushed a few hairs out of her face, sticky from her tears, and I smiled as she started to snore softly.

This girl. Woman.

The bubble had been lifted somewhere during the time we were asleep, but I was still reluctant to let her out of my sight. I quickly translated a smaller chair across the room and sat there the rest of the night, watching her sleep, just as I’d done the night of her abduction.

That was the only time I ever knew her crying.

After I portaled Emma back into her room the next morning, I located Jackson quickly, eating breakfast at the Cube. I was feeling an urgent need to talk about Emma and whatever conversation he’d had with her about me.

"What the hell did you tell Emma about me?" were the first words out of my mouth when I sat down at his table.

If I'd expected him to pale or exhibit any hint of shame or guilt, I'd be sorely disappointed. I knew my friend well—he only ever executed actions he deemed just or justified.

"Not that much, since you'd opened up to her quite a lot before I did," he remarked, nonchalant, taking another bite of his croissant.

I scowled. "You told her about my past."

"Yes, I did."

"That shit was not yours to share," I grunted, slamming the French pastry out of his hand.

"On the contrary, James, that 'shit' was absolutely mine to share. Or did you forget one of your earlier incidents?" he replied dryly, translating himself another breakfast roll.

I swallowed. I hadn't forgotten.

"I've told you many times how—" I began, but he cut me off.

"I'm not interested in another heartfelt apology. I know very well how you feel about all that. And I know you've changed. Or at least, your translation has changed. All I did in telling her was make her aware of an issue you know has to be dealt with."

"Why?" I demanded.

"You know why," Jackson replied sharply, as he finally put down his food.

"I laid it all out for you yesterday after you knocked out Enzo.

And if you hadn't been so stubborn and actually acknowledged your issues, I wouldn't have felt the need to talk to Emma.

But you left me with no choice when you refused to admit your lack of control. "

"You're not my keeper," I retorted.

"No, I'm your best friend who's trying to prevent someone else's parent, sister, friend, or neighbor from getting hurt because our Leader can't control his anger, all because of his crush on our new friend Emma."

"I don't—" I began, but Jackson cut me off again.

"Please, don't deny you have feelings for her either. Your denial is practically a second personality at this point."

I sighed heavily. I attempted to push away the memories from last night, but they flooded back regardless. Emma and I under a blanket, sharing Scotch and cigars. Emma's laughter echoing in my mind. Emma’s moans when eating steak. Emma crying in my arms. Emma sleeping peacefully in my home.

And all the warm touchy feelings that came with those.

Fuck.

"Fine," I relented. "I might feel something for her.”

Jackson smirked. “No shit.”

“So now what? You’re gonna give me advice on how to date? After which we’ll make a nice pot of chamomile tea and learn to crochet?” I growled, visibly annoyed.

Jackson laughed. “Hey, if that’s what it takes to keep you from killing and punching out people, I’m all for it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on the crocheting lessons.”

“Suit yourself,” Jackson replied, still grinning. “But seriously, man, you need to figure this out. Emma’s great and as long as you don’t have a handle on these feelings, you’re a liability to us all.”

I nodded, the weight of Jackson’s words settling in. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good,” Jackson said, clapping me on the shoulder, resuming his breakfast. “And hey, if all else fails, at least I now know you like chamomile tea."

I flipped him off.

As I left the Cube a bit later, my nerves were shot at the thought of facing Emma again.

We’d barely exchanged words that morning and I had dropped her off without so much as a meaningful goodbye.

“Fucking Jackson,” I muttered, cursing him for making me aware of my feelings for Emma.

But he had a point; I needed to keep my anger in check. If my feelings for Emma were part of the problem, I'd have to find another way to deal with them. Maybe I should just ask her out?

My stomach turned at the idea. I wasn’t really the “asking out” kind of guy.

"Screw it, I'll figure it out later," I mumbled to myself, determined to keep my temper in check from now on. I had to be the best version of myself. Emma didn’t deserve any less.

The training room was empty when I got there, as usual.

Emma strutted in ten minutes late, looking.

.. different. She always looked hot, but now she was.

.. was she wearing makeup? And those work-out clothes…

was it my imagination or were they tighter than usual?

Also, she usually wore her hair tied back, so it wouldn’t bother her during our fights but now, her hair was all shiny and flowing freely over her shoulders.

She shrugged off her sweater, revealing a cropped tank top, which accentuated her breasts. My throat dried. Definitely not my imagination.

My eyes dropped to her high-waisted leggings, which were enhancing her curves. My eyes wandered, and I swallowed so hard, I instantly translated a large bottle of water without even realizing.

"Sorry I'm late," she breathed, snapping me out of my trance.

“Huh?” I asked slightly disoriented, struggling to regain my composure.

A wicked grin spread across her lips. "I said, I'm sorry I'm late," she repeated, winking at me.

"Uhm…Yeah, it's cool," I muttered, trying to recall all former Leaders of Cyclos so I’d think about anything other than the fact I would have to put my hands on that smokin’ hot body of hers in a matter of minutes.

She stepped closer, and I felt like a deer caught in headlights.

"I wanted to thank you for last night," she added while I blinked so fast my vision was becoming blurry.

"Sure," I replied, not entirely sure what I was agreeing to.

Emma's grin widened. "Ready to get started?"

My eyes widened. “On?”

“Training?”

Gods James, get your mind out of the gutter.

I took in a deep breath. “Yeah. Right. Sure. Training.”

She laughed, a sound I had come to love more than life itself. "Yes, training," she confirmed, bringing me back to earth.

"Right, let's do this," I said, determined to keep my mind on the task at hand.

I had her on the floor, her body pinned under mine, in less than ten seconds.

But as soon as I did, new instincts took over.

Instead of fighting her, my body wanted to shield her.

Instead of teaching her, I felt an overwhelming need to protect her.

And the mere thought of hurting her, made me sick to my stomach.

This was exactly why I needed to keep my distance. All these feelings were making me a shitty teacher.

“James, you okay?” she asked softly.

“Mmm,” I groaned, “Why?”

“Because you’re lying on top of me and you’re not moving.”

Crap.

I jumped to my feet. “Sorry, Emma, I’m a little distracted today.” Understatement of the cycle . “Mind if we take a day off and meet up tomorrow?”

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise, and she seemed… disappointed?

“No, of course not. Never thought I’d get a day off,” she joked, but her eyes didn’t light up.

“You okay?” I asked, frowning.

She nodded, waving me off. “Yeah, absolutely. Just needed a little distraction today myself, but don’t worry.”

My instincts kicked into their highest gear. “Why did you need a distraction today?”

She shrugged. “Oh, it’s not a big deal. Just... it’s my mom’s birthday today, and I really wanted to be there. But don’t worry, I’ll go drown my self-pity at the Cube,” she teased, but I saw the sadness in her eyes.

Damn it. My heart lurched.

“What do you need?” I asked firmly, fully aware I’d kill a small army by hand if she asked.

She sighed deeply, then turned to face me. “I want to see my parents,” she whispered, looking so vulnerable, my heart nearly broke.

There was no doubt in my mind. “Okay. Then let’s visit them.”

Emma raised a brow. “We can’t do that. The Council?“

“I don’t give a fuck about what the Council wants,” I snarled.

Emma’s eyes widened. “James, that’s insane! We can’t go behind the Council’s back. We’ll get into trouble. You might even jeopardize your Leadership! It’s not worth it.”

I sighed. “Emma, I might have been an ass in the past about understanding your wants and needs, but trust me when I say, it is worth it.”

She frowned. “Why? What’s changed?”

I hesitated. The words, “because I realize I’m falling for you,” didn’t exactly roll of the tongue, so I chickened out. “Nothing’s changed. I just don’t see the point of keeping you away from them anymore.”

I could see the doubt in her eyes, but other emotions instantly filled her expression: excitement, happiness, hope. And I never wanted to see anything else etched on those features.

“The Council is going to find out. There’s no way we can just leave Cyclos without them knowing.”

A wide grin spread across my face. “Then I guess this is a great time to start your practical portal lessons.”