Page 11

11

You Know Who I Am: Ronan

I knew she was here but I didn’t expect our reunion to pan out quite this way. Her firm body is cradled into my arms, lip bloody and jaw swollen. Bruises litter her arms and hairline in a greenish yellow hue, and dirt covers her entire left side, but she’s still just as exquisite as I remember. She’s still “her” in all of her murderous, protective beauty.

The guys decided we could stay here for the night since the light was fading fast, but I couldn’t have been bothered regardless, willing to carry her wherever they wanted to go if it was necessary. Though, I will admit I’m happy we’re not walking because it gave me more time to just look at her in the soft light before night fell. Allowed me time to take the knife from her hand and tear part of my sleeve off to create a makeshift hair tie and pull her hair up for her. I can only imagine how much she hated fighting with it down. She’s never liked her hair down during combat.

Stopping gave me time to admire the blade that’s as dark as the night that envelopes us. It gave me time to wonder where it came from, even if part of me feels like it knows the answer already.

I haven’t moved the entire time she’s been unconscious. Not when Nate had approached and asked if I knew her. Not when Adonis tried to tell me that we weren’t best friends. And not when the tall, skittish woman crawled over to us and just stared down at her with nothing short of awe.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” she asks cautiously, but I don’t remove my gaze from Silene’s sleeping form. To be fair, I don’t think she does either, both of us focused on the steady rise and fall of Silene’s chest.

“I don’t know. Is there a reason she wouldn’t be?” I question, more accusatory and far more harsh than I should be. “She doesn’t seem to look as bad as Princess over there, unless something happened before you found us?”

I study the way her hands twist together, a nervous tell if I’ve ever seen one, then glance up to see her looking around while tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth before she whispers, “Before we found you guys, someone else found us. Obviously we both made it out, but her head got slammed into the ground pretty bad. I’m not sure if she lost consciousness, but she didn’t move for a minute. And she hasn’t said anything about it, but I’ve noticed her rubbing the back of her neck quite a bit like she hurt it and I ju—”

She stops herself for a moment and meets my eyes, the soft glow of the fire revealing the soft sheen that coats them. “I just need her to be okay.”

After she says that, she turns slightly toward the other two men. “Do you trust them?” she asks, taking me by surprise. I regard her with wary and caution, my eyes narrowing and hands clenching, unintentionally gripping Silenes body much harder than I meant to..

“Why would I not?” She looks around again, this time slower, before she leans into me so close that I can feel when the next words leave her as if they were reaching out to tell me themselves.

“Silene left for a reason. A warning that she was given…”

I quickly look down at the woman lying in my lap before raising my head up to ask another question, but when I do, the tall woman has already stumbled closer to the fire we lit right before darkness consumed us. Nobody says a word as the crackling of flames fill the air. Not Nate as he remains focused on the tall woman’s every move. Not Adonis as he uses his own shirt to apply pressure on the wound to his face and neck, irritation written all over his expression. Not the woman who occasionally glances back at us but otherwise remains seemingly unaware of the brown eyes that follow every breath she takes.

Not me as I reach into my pocket and remove the note I’d found in the house. The note I’ve read over and over again as I try to remember why I wrote it, what it means, and how it got there. But for some reason those are the memories that evade me. For some reason, all the memories from how we got here remain just out of reach, and all that I see or hear is Silene. The sound of her voice. Her bright, mossy green eyes.

Green eyes that begin to move beneath her lids.

I pocket the paper and sit up, pushing back the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of the tie I’d made for her so her hair wouldn’t be in her face any longer than it already had been. When I’m done fixing her hair, my hands cradle her cheeks, wanting to be the first thing she sees and feels when she wakes.

When she finally opens her eyes, though, it’s not relief or happiness I see, but pure unadulterated rage that crosses her features. Even with only the soft glow of the fire lighting her face, I can almost see her every thought, but only one thing passes through my mind.

She’s okay is the chant that plays over and over in my head as short-lived relief washes over me. Very short-lived relief.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” she grits out through clenched teeth. Her calm should not be mistaken as anything other than deathly. Lethal, even, as she removes my hands and puts distance between us while moving to sit up. I observe every flicker of her gaze and how it settles on the other woman longer than anyone else. I notice the way their eyes catch and the silent conversation that seems to pass between them before her shoulders slump forward in what could only be relief.

One asks How are you? And the other silently answers with Okay. Safe.

I observe the way Silene’s hands trail over her body, taking count of every blade that is sheathed on her thighs before she slowly moves to a crouching position and turns her whole focus to me.

She’s watching me as one would watch an enemy, or worse…a stranger.

“Sile—” She holds up her hand, silencing anything else that I was hoping to say and looks back to the others. They are all watching us with rapt fascination.

“Why did you do it?” she asks me with a withering look, and I don’t know how to answer the question. Genuinely, I’ve never been more confused in my life. Considering our current situation, I feel as if that says a lot.

“Why did I do what?” I ask, but she just scoffs before leveling me with a glare that sends ice into my bloodstream. I’m stuck wondering what it is she could be talking about considering she’s been asleep the entire time we’ve been here together.

“Ronan, cut the shit. Why. Did. You. Do. It?” she demands, every word pronounced with a determined conviction. Slowly, she moves to stand, and I follow every single bend of her body that she created in the process. The curve of her spine, the bend of her elbows, her grimace at the rolling of her neck. There’s not a single thing she does that escapes my notice. There never will be. She catches me openly staring, and I just hold my hands up in surrender hoping that she doesn’t think of me as a threat.

Though, at least then she’s still thinking of me.

“Killer, I really don’t—” I attempt again, but she scolds me and I promptly shut my mouth as she speaks.

“Ronan, you have five seconds.” She slowly unsheathes a blade and points it at me. Nate takes this moment to rise to his feet in a panicked frenzy, but Silene whips her head in his direction, halting him when she aims the blade at him instead.

“Tsk tsk, Nathaniel, I don’t think you want to test my aim with this,” she says pointedly with a mocking undertone.

I see Carmen’s face fall as she says, “The answer is very well. If your life is something you value, you should listen to her.” The statement is quiet, but we all hear it well enough for him to take a few steps back.

“Very good. Ronan, since we were interrupted, I’ll give you five more seconds. But only five. Don’t make me put this blade through your pretty face. It would be quite a shame.” She smirks, but I don’t mistake that small feature for anything other than a warning she’s hopeful I won’t heed. And damn, do I want to see her smile enough to pretend that I don’t know just how violent my woman is.

“You think I’m pretty?” I ask, and she barks out a laugh before she’s glaring at me with narrowed eyes.

“Time’s up. Wrong answer.”

The next thing I know, she’s putting her blade away and walking toward me with a violent gleam in her eyes. I may not remember much of the events that landed us here, but I do remember how good she is in hand-to-hand combat. I do remember how she came to us as someone with mostly boxing experience, and a little martial arts training here and there. I remember training her, not because I was forced to, like she thought, but because I was entranced by her. I remember the long hours we spent on the mat so she could learn how to be more proficient and to read her opponents’ tells. I remember her abundance of hatred toward me and how I would fuel the fire inside her with a snark and underhanded comments.

She eventually surpassed me, but our training days never stopped. I never wanted them to. I don’t think that she did either.

I let her throw the first punch, wanting to watch what she went for to know just how fucked I was. She goes for a left hook. Immediately, I know that my odds of winning this fight are probably sitting somewhere in the negatives.

In other words, I’m completely and utterly fucked if I can’t convince her I’m innocent of whatever she has already found me guilty of.

“Look, Silene, let’s talk this out,” I say as I try to dodge every swing she throws my way, but she’s fast.

And not only is she fast, but she’s pissed off. I know when she’s like this,she needs to release as much steam as possible before she begins to see even a smidge of reason, which doesn’t bode well for me considering it’s my head she wants on a platter. The only other person that I briefly remember keeping up with her is sitting next to the fire, leaning against a tree with a smirk on his face, watching in amusement.

Not a very good best friend if you ask me, but I guess we’ll have to talk about that later.

“Light of my life, I need you to—” I narrowly avoid a roundhouse kick to the face, “—please stop for just a minute. You know who I am, Killer.” I catch her wrist before her knuckles connect with my face in her next swing. “You know who I really am.” This doesn’t result in her stopping anything other than scowling before pulling her wrist back.

The scowl is soon replaced with a laugh that shakes the ground I stand on and makes my knees buckle enough to forget my dire situation. Her laugh is cold and unforgiving, yet it still somehow manages to tear my focus away from what it should be on. Makes me forget why we’re here long enough for her to trip me and throw her body over my own, bringing one of the blades back out to rest against the skin of my throat.

“We both know I’m nobody’s light. Now tell the group what you did and why.” Her head is cocked to the side and several strands of hair have fallen out of the makeshift tie, now framing her face in dark tangled ebony waves.

“A knife to my throat? Are you flirting with me right now?”

The words seem to impress her very little as the murderous glint in her eyes sparks brighter.

“I loathe that I ever found any ounce of appeal in you,” she says as she brings her free hand to the base of my throat and starts to squeeze while thoroughly observing me, but I refuse to let the small smile leave my face while she does so. Not in an attempt to mock her—though I know she’ll see it like that—but because I like when her eyes are on me. I like when she studies me as if I’m a puzzle that she can’t quite figure out. I love that the indifference and hatred has left her eyes because that means that she might feel something other than contentment at this moment.

“Why did you sell us out?” Her words are a low, disbelieving whisper against my ear and my body stills completely at the implication of her words. I attempt to turn my head toward the others, but she uses her grip on my neck to force my head back. She pulls away from my ear and meets my gaze with a fierceness that would have me kneeling before her if I were standing.

“I remember, Ronan. I remember that day and the weeks leading to it. Tell me why, and don’t lie.” The words leave her mouth, still hushed as if to keep this exchange a secret from the others and I wish I knew why. I wish I knew what she remembered and I wish I knew why she was asking me in a way that doesn’t make me look like a traitorous bastard in front of the rest of the group. Then again, if I remember anything correctly, she’s always been somewhat reasonable and has never sent anyone on a witch hunt without knowing all the facts first.

Which means she might not be completely sure of what she remembers.

“Tell me,” I whisper back. A deep cough rings out near us, and we both whip our heads towards the sound.

“If you two are done with your lover’s quarrel, can I go to sleep?” Naturally, the question was from Adonis, the Princess himself. Nate’s face warps from one of worry to one of amusement as he attempts to stifle his laugh with a cough.

Carmen is the only one that still looks truly worried for her friend and doesn’t mask the questions lingering in her gaze until Silene dips her head to her. Our onlookers get situated for sleep near the fire, Adonis and Nate facing away while she faces towards it. Si loosens her grip on my neck and sits up, but keeps the tip of her blade at my neck.

“Is this necessary?” I ask, but her answering smirk tells me I’m not getting out of this until I answer her question. Unfortunately for me, that means I could be here all night given I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“You have yet to answer any of my questions, why should I give you the pleasure of comfort?” Her eyebrow raises, indicating she requires an answer I can’t give.

“I have no answers to give you,” I tell her earnestly, but she just lets out a small, breathy laugh before leaning back down, her nose almost flush against my own, and whispering one word to me.

“Bullshit.”

Her breath fans against my lips, and I worry that if I breathe too deeply, she’ll pull away so I hold my breath for as long as I can. “I don’t remember anything you’re talking about, Silene. I swear on my life.”

“Your life isn’t worth much to you, is it?” Curiosity laces her tone as she pulls back from me and briefly glances at the three sleeping forms no more than ten feet from us before turning back to me. “It’s not worth much to me either. Your life, I mean. You swore it to me once before and look where I ended up now.”

Lifting herself off me, she stretches her body out before leaning against the nearest tree.

“Sleep. You’ll live long enough to remember what you did.” She pauses long enough to take a deep breath before saying, “But not a second longer. If your life is mine, then I’ll be the one to slit your throat for the lies and betrayal. No one else should have to be burdened with the task. I’ll take the first watch.”

Then she stalks away from me and checks every area where the light falls before taking a seat on the other side of the camping area, and cleans her nails with the knife she just used to threaten my life.

For the next several hours I truly did try to do as she said. Tried to get closer to the heat but found myself tossing and turning under the light of the flame. It wasn’t until I was further away and closer to the dark that I found myself settling a bit easier, but not easily enough I suppose, since I was acutely aware of every breath she took behind me. Too aware of every movement she made and the sound the tip of the blade made against her fingernails as it scraped away any remnants of dirt or blood.

I really only start drifting off when she kicks one of the other men awake and tells them she needs her beauty sleep. I hear Adonis’ deep grunt. A muffled curse word to her, or maybe even about her, before I faintly hear her lay down with an amused huff beside her friend.

The minutes drag on and on as I hear her toss and turn just as I had done for the past couple hours. What’s leaving her so restless? Is it the sleep she’d fallen into earlier that keeps her awake now? Is it the answers she found or the questions that still linger plaguing her now from them? Is it because she doesn’t feel safe with me around? These thoughts torment me longer than they should, and when sleep finally starts to take over, I send a quick thank you to God for the mercy he’s granted me from the all-consuming thoughts of the woman.

“So what do you say? Drinks at Labyrinth’s? It’s always a good time and the job took a lot longer than all of us anticipated. It’ll be good for us to get out for a bit.” I snap out of the daze I’m in just in time to hear the question from William, but don’t fully process it until his elbow slams into my arm. “What are you looking at, anyway?” he questions, and I peer down at him in the hopes that he wasn’t able to follow the direction that had stolen my attention.

But it’s too late.

“Ahh, new hire, do you think?” he asks, as one of his overly confident smiles lifts his lips. “Probably for the interior work Mr. Delgado wants done around the place, right?” His voice is hopeful as he lightly hits my shoulder before heading in her direction.

Not unusual behavior from him, for sure. He’s always been one to invite women into his bed, and often. But never are they anyone from the manor, always a stranger from a bar or club out in town.

She’s not his usual type, though. Her deep, olive-toned face is all sharp edges. Her hair is the color of a tree’s dark timber, slicked back in a hair tie, yet still falling in cascading waves down her back. Several strands fall down and frame her face, and her eyes are the color of the moss that tends to grow in abundance over the estate walls.

She’s mesmerizing, for sure.

Anyone would stare, but she’s not the type I’ve seen him chase after. So, I follow. Though I’m not sure if it was to see what would happen to him, or if it was because I hadn’t taken my eyes off her from the moment we arrived here today, but I allow one foot to fall in front of the other over and over again until I’m across the room and able to see her up close.

Devastating.

She is completely and utterly devastating in every sense of the word.

And she was completely locked onto whatever bullshit was flying out of William’s mouth. The only saving grace was that she wasn’t falling at his feet and laughing at every word he said like most women would have been doing by now. Instead, she wore a small smirk with her head cocked to the side and nodded her agreements every now and again.

“William, is it?” she questions, and he extends his hand before responding with one of the worst lines in the books.

“Yeah, but you can call me whatever you like.” I can practically hear the answering eyeroll as she begins to outstretch her hand towards his.

At the last second, she shifts her body to mine with a mumbled, “I don’t think I will,” and gives me a soft smile. “That was William, and you are…” her voice trails off in a questioning tone, but I stare at her. Momentarily paralyzed by the sound of her voice coupled with her attention wholly on me.

Her voice sounds like melting butter on freshly made pancakes, a wealth of knowledge, the fountain of youth. It feels like life washes over me in a refreshing bout of rain after years of choking on the life that had been thrust upon me.

“Ronan.”

It’s the only word that I say. The only one that I can muster as I drink her in, my voice raspier than usual as I take her waiting hand and bring it up to my mouth to lay a feather light kiss on her knuckles.

Her answering blush is patient, polite —

“This isn’t right,” I say to her, and the grin that spreads across her face is wicked. I find myself smiling just the same.

“Shucks, Ronan. What gave me away?” Her deep sultry voice and feigned accent brings laughter out of me.

“Well, the first hint was that I’ve never known you to be the docile type.”

“True. What else?” It was a question, but by the way she asks, it seems like she already knows the answer but wants me to say it first.

“That was when we first met. I tried to kiss your knuckles, but you tried to break my wrist.” The laugh that bubbles out of her is uncontained and raw and all her. Not this version of her, but the late-night movie and baking adventures “her.”

The version that let me catch up.

“Ahhhh, that I did. Sorry for going a little off script. I didn’t think you would notice.”

“I notice everything you do, Killer. Besides, I fell in love with every wicked, sharp edge of yours. Bashful isn’t really your look.” My eyes roam over her figure and then check the surroundings of the gathering room in the manor. Everyone else has vanished.

“This is a dream.” It’s a statement, not a question and the way her eyes light up at my acknowledgment of the situation is like a beacon of hope at a time where there is none.

“A dream. A memory. Whatever you’d like to call it, I suppose. Part of your subconscious. You control this.” She responds, beginning to walk away from me. Before she can get too far, I reach out a hand and take hold of her arm, forcing her to stand before me again.

“I control this.”

“Of course. I’m sure you already know I’m not really here. This version of the two of us are just ghosts of who we used to be, you and I. A ghost of simpler times.”

“Can we go somewhere else?” I ask, wishing to speak in private. Even in my dreams where only my truths reside, here doesn’t feel safe to be so open with my thoughts.

“And where exactly would you like to go, Blue?”

My answer is simple. A place made up of four letters. The answer is the only place I want to be with her, and once I say it, understanding washes across her face.

“Home, Killer. I want to go home.”

And suddenly our surroundings become pitch black as a whisper of a touch floats across the skin of my hand. “As you wish, Ronan. Let’s go home.”