Page 37

Chapter thirty-five

Forest

I stand outside the tattered apartment building, looking over the tiny flecks of blue paint scattered on the ground, no doubt from years of brutal weather and lack of upkeep. The walk here was unnerving. There were several moments where I was one shifty look away from pulling out my blade. A few people lie on the streets outside the building, sleeping soundly or rummaging through bins for something to eat. A few people sit on their balconies, watching me from above, waiting for me to move from my position on the sidewalk. I watch a woman leave the building, her body bundled in layers of worn clothing. Slowly, I move closer to her, stepping over a sleeping Unfortunate to catch her before the door closes. I grasp the door, watching her turn on her heels at my sudden presence.

“You startled me,” she says with a smile, offering that same kindness Jolie had, not once asking me why I’m here.

“My apologies,” I glance into the building, looking over the many names and unit numbers plastered on the wall. There’s a buildup of tape on the names lining the directory, telling me there’s been a lot of turnover here in the recent years.

“Could you possibly help me find someone?” I start, watching her give me a slight nod, “I’m looking for someone named Fallan Markswood… do you know which unit he might be in?” I question.

“Markswood! Oh, I love that boy. Yes, he's three staircases up. The unit is at the very end of the hallway to the right. You can’t miss it. He’s the only reason our hallway looks half as decent as it does,” she says, smiling ear to ear, “Are you his partner?” she questions, making my words come out a jumbled mess.

“N-No, just a friend,” I say, watching her frown.

“Pity, I was hoping someone could take care of him after dealing with those nasty Officials. Poor boy wouldn't leave his unit, even when I offered him a warm meal,” she says, sounding hurt.

I’m starting to think her interest in Fallan goes beyond neighborly concern at this point.

“Well, I’d better go check on him,” I say, moving further into the open doorway.

“She’s a bit odd. Keep your eyes on her,” it whispers, no longer relying on just reflections to communicate.

“Noted,” I say out loud, giving the woman one last smile before moving inside the building.

I make my way up the three flights of stairs, my legs dragging heavily under me as I struggle to avoid debris and other hazards, like the jagged nails sticking up and out of several of the planks that have been used to repair gaping holes in the floor. I keep my head lowered, watching my feet press against each loose board that threatens to break beneath my weight. Several posters advertising the false promises and programs built by New Haven’s government to aid this sector cake the walls here. The evidence of the Untouchable's broken commitments to serve and protect this community can be felt in every part of this sector, down to the broken hand railings and damaged locks, all damage resulting from unsolicited searches and seizures on the property. The cameras here are all broken, serving as a way to hide any vile acts my people inflict here in the name of peace and prosperity. The air still smells heavy, making it hard not to pinch the bridge of my nose to keep out the odor.

I finally make it up to the last steps, turning the corner down the hallway. The walls feel like they’re growing closer, tightening the space around me in an unsettling discomfort. I drag my feet across the floor, feeling the heat my mark gives off, warming my skin and nauseating my stomach. I do my best to keep my head down, only looking up to watch a man fidget with a set of keys. He drops them on the ground, glancing up at me causally.

I linger in the hallway, watching the man grab his keys before walking toward me. This hallway has more doors than expected and more turns than the woman downstairs had initially described. The man shifts to move past me, his youthful features giving away that he’s probably no older than thirty. He looks cleaner than most in this sector, keeping a stone-cold expression that doesn’t reveal anything else about him.

“Excuse me,” I start. The man pauses his walk, staring forward with a blank expression. He takes in a deep breath, “Do you know someone in this building by the name of Fallan-”

The man's arm collides with my chest, forcing me back and into the closest wall. All of the air leaves my lungs, causing me to grasp his arm, now pressing down on my sternum. His free hand grabs my chin, jolting my head around to get a better look at my face. His nose brushes up against my neck before he inhales. His nose drags along the veins in my neck, my legs unable to move. I feel my mark burn red hot, all of my instincts telling me to reach out and snap his neck.

The man's eyes shift from a standard brown to an endless void of darkness. I cannot move my arm. I try to force it away from his grasp to grab my blade. His hand dips into my front pocket, fiddling with the lanyard of my father's ID, dangling it between us. I struggle to find air, unsure of how much longer I can stand here before passing out.

"Fight,” the other part of me yells, giving me a small surge of energy to force the man's hand away from my chest. He only shoves me farther back, the wall behind me rattling as my back collides with it.

“Someone went too far outside her sector,” the man hisses, dragging the ID’s edge down my face. “They never said I couldn’t have you if you stumbled into the Unfortunate sector,” he continues, pressing his nose to my hair. “Fresh Marked blood for me to feast on,” he says, the corners of his mouth dripping with saliva.

“F-Fallan!” I yell loudly, unable to muster the energy I needed to call to him down the connection in my mind.

Horror paints my face as the man begins tearing away at his skin, revealing the bony, sunken face I recognize as a Shifter's. Chunks of flesh meet the floor as it peels away its fleshy costume. Its hand, with a similar mark as the one I keep concealed, begins to burn against my skin—I take a moment to glance at the features of its unmasked form and find slick, thin bones for fingers and sunken hollow pits instead of eyes. I continue thrashing against the monster, and my fingers finally touch the hilt of my blade. I pray that the commands I input recently to override the code from before I removed my chip wouldn’t fail me now. I wouldn’t be able to wield my blade if the commands didn’t hold.

“Just one taste-” the creature hisses.

The creature wails, loosening its grip to angle its jaw to align with my throat, but its adjusted grip allowed me to force my blade up, and I watch as it met the creature's skull through the bottom of its jaw. A second blade joins the fight, slicing through the tender skin of the creature’s chest from behind, nearly meeting my own front in the process. I pant heavily as the tip of the blade, now protruding from its chest, almost touches my flesh. Giving my blade a sharp twist, I watch the creature's arms go limp. It slumps to the ground with a heavy thud, and its body begins to melt into nothing. Soon all that remains of the creature is ash stuck to the carpet. It's the same ash that covers the ground well beyond the ward.

I kick my body away from it, retracting my blade. Its blood stains my face. My heart skips a beat as I find the source of the other blade. Fallan stands above me, leaning on the wall, panting heavily. The Shifter's blood mixes into his own bloody and bruised face. I have to stop myself from gasping at the sight of his battered face. He clutches his side, biting back the pain. Being this close to him, I find a strange connection to his injuries, and they hit me abruptly. My whole body is miserable. My own side begins to ache, and my face throbs uncomfortably. I watch him run his hand through his hair, closing his blade before stepping near me.

Without hesitation, he grabs the front of my hoodie, pulling me to my feet with one arm, giving me no time to react as he moves us down the hallway. I watch him limp while he moves, only stopping once he’s reached the door farthest to the end of the hallway. He fumbles with the knob, forcing it open. He drags me inside, slamming the door shut and latches the multiple locks.

I stumble into his unit, looking at the neat and orderly set up around me, taking in every detail I can. His home smells of cinnamon, a few candles are lit to add some light to the dark space since he’s got the curtains drawn, blocking out the rays of sun.

“What was that?” I finally question, breaking the silence.

Fallen moves towards the small kitchen.

I watch him wince as he rummages through his cabinets, grabbing what's left of my bottle of Cure-All and moving straight toward me.

“A Foreign Entity…. A Shifter, like the one the night of the screening.”

“H-how is that possible? How did it look human?” I question.

“They can alter their DNA. One of the many, miserable perks of nuclear fallout,” Fallan says, rubbing his hands along his face.

“It called me Marked,” I start, finally getting his full attention. “How did it know what I am?” I question.

“Your blood. For some reason, they can't get enough blood from people like us. Someone is commanding them to hunt us, letting them past the ward,” he mutters, ready to douse me in the Cure-all, but none of my injuries are so bad that I'd see the last of it used on me when he’s in such bad shape. I grab his wrist, stopping him as he clutches his side.

Without thinking, I grab the bottom portion of his shirt, forcing it up to reveal a very unpleasant bruise on a very visually pleasing torso. He moves to pull away, and I can see he’s already conjuring up as many angry words as he can for touching him too abruptly. I quickly silence him by grabbing the bottle and rubbing the mixture into my hands. I reach under his shirt to soothe the bruises.

“Fuck. I can't even breathe. You've let your injuries sit too long,” I mutter, letting my fingertips trail along his skin, watching the way his hand holds my arm, readying to pull me away.

“You can feel my pain?” he questions, his face that much harder to read with all the bruising.

“The minute I saw you,” I whisper, keeping my hand under his shirt well after I’d finished applying the solution. The warmth of his skin radiates over my hand, each of his strong stomach muscles pressed against my palm. He keeps his head lowered as he watches me, slowly moving my hand away from his flesh, only to let it rest on the waistband of his pants.

“What are you doing here, Forest?” Fallan questions angrily, finally stepping back to put space between us. Although I feel how furious he is, I know it’s not directed at me. It’s something more like fear for what might have happened to me. I guess his pain isn’t the only thing I can feel.

“Xavier said-”

“Don’t say his fucking name around me!” Fallan snaps, turning on his heels at the mention of the blonde Official. I stand my ground as he marches toward me, refusing to back down from him.

“Fallan,” I start, grabbing his face between my two hands, unsure why I can't stop myself from doing so. “I had to make sure you and Hunter were okay. I had to make sure you were okay,” I say. There’s no alcohol driving his reaction to me now, and I need to understand how he really feels.

He slowly raises his hand to my own, and for a moment, I think he’ll embrace me like he’s done before. But he suddenly jerks the Cure-All free from my grasp and moves back.

“I’m fine,” he starts, spraying the medicine into his hands. “Does blondie know you're here?” he questions, referring to Xavier once more.

There has to be a reason for Fallan’s contempt towards him.

“He doesn’t know I’m here. It's just me and Kaiden. No one else knows where we are,” I whisper, touching my aching chest.

Warmth surges through my body as his hand dips under the hoodie. Keeping his eyes on me, his hand slowly drags up my stomach. My legs shake as I try to control my thoughts while enjoying the feeling of his strong fingers delicately caressing my bare skin. I move my head to look at what he's doing, only to be stopped by his other hand wrapped around my chin. He pulls my face forward, directing me to hold eye contact. The hand that’s been under my hoodie moves higher up my stomach, pausing right below the material of my bra where the pain is the strongest. My thundering heart betrays me and refuses to listen to my commands as it races so fast that I can feel it beating in my throat. I am unable to process what’s happening. I want nothing more than to move his hand beneath the undergarment completely to ease my aching breasts.

“I feel your pain too,” he starts, working his fingers along the middle of my chest. He suddenly pushes his fingers under my bra, but carefully enough not to touch my breasts while he works to move them in position over the ache that radiates across my sternum. I’m unable to move beneath his touch, feeling a warmth between my legs that threatens to consume me if I don’t find a way to satiate it. “And your pleasure,” he continues, gently massaging the bruised skin on my chest. A shaky gasp leaves my mouth as his hand moves to touch the supple skin of my breast. I bite my lower lip, unsure why I can't stop myself. I grab the collar of his shirt.

“Fallan,” I whisper, unsure why I give him so much access to me.

He quickly retracts his hand, taking several steps back as he runs his hands through his hair. I listen to him groan as he bites his inner cheek, opening and closing his hands as he usually does when he’s overly frustrated. I feel the heat in my cheeks, and I can see the same redness staining his skin between the purple and green of the bruises. I let the cloud of desire dissipate, watching him finally apply the Cure-All to his face as his stoic demeanor returns. He moves toward his kitchen, running his bloodied hands under the hot water in the sink. Grabbing a towel, he cleans his face, working in swift motions. He wastes no time moving back over to me, taking the towel and working it along my hands and face to remove the dried Shifter blood.

“How often are we going to find each other like this, only to walk away?” I question, hearing him scoff at the statement.

“You are a distraction,” he mutters, pointing his finger at me with accusation. “A physical distraction. Nothing more,” he says coldly, my heart filling with indignation at his statement.

“You don't mean that-”

“Why wouldn’t I? Would it make your journey over here pointless knowing I couldn’t care less about you? Why is it so hard for you to understand there’s nothing here? I won't tell you what you want to hear, connection to me or not,” Fallan says, growing more hateful with each passing second.

“A distraction?!” I yell angrily, moving toward Fallan, shoving him in the chest out of frustration. “That's all I am, then? Something for you to play with until you get bored. I don't believe that,” I say, pointing my finger hard into his chest.

“It's not like a Blackburn is good for much else,” he hisses, looking away each time he answers me.

I think of that night by the bonfire, feeling my heart ready to burst from my chest.

“Can you even look at me while you say that?” I question, silently urging him to look at me.

“I remember that night, you know,” I start, watching his body tense up. “That night at Josh’s party,'' I continue, keeping my voice low as I hide my emotions. “I remember what it was like to see your smile and feel your hands on me like they were a few moments ago,” I continue, looking up at him, hoping I'm not wrong about this thing between us. “You gave me that necklace, the same necklace I could never bring myself to take off. I had no idea why,” I admit, feeling the tears ready to burst from my eyes. I let out a small sob, forcing his hands to touch my waist as he looks me over with a stern expression. “You danced with me that night, with a smile on your face I could never forget,” I continue, not able to look away from something hanging on his wall. “I gave you that drawing when we were children,” I say, pointing to the framed piece of art above his bed. It's the same messy drawing of the field of flowers I’d made all those years ago, untouched by time. "So don't tell me this is only physical because, damn it, Fallan, I know there is so much you haven't told me about us,” I say, feeling the tears falling over my heated cheeks.

Fallan’s eyes flash briefly with something like agony and longing before all traces of feeling fade abruptly, and there’s nothing left but a thick wall that slams against my heart mercilessly. I watch his face contort from conflict as he glances at the painting, prying his hands away from me. I watch him go over to his bed, swiping the picture off the wall. I cover my mouth to hide my emotions, watching him pace around the room as he looks at the drawing.

“A few stolen memories, and you think that erases all that your people have done to me? You think a few stolen moments with me have me as desperate for you as you are for me?” he questions, pausing in front of a trash bin. I flinch as his hand drops the frame in the trash, feeling my heart burst again at the sight.

“If you came to my sector hoping there’d be something between us, that I’d want you... you’re delusional,” he whispers, clenching his jaw as he speaks. "Besides, you’ve got a willing Official at your doorstep who seems way more your speed. It would seem that’s your poison these days anyway,” he says, a lick of jealousy lingering in the bite of his words.

I shove away my emotions, creeping closer to the wall in his mind he’s put up between us.

“I don't buy it,” it whispers, feeding me with power as I brush my hands along the mental wall, looking for any signs of weakness.

“Is that what this is about, then? Xavier?” I question, watching his facial expression change as I find a crack I'm looking for.

I feel his emotions swirl on the other side of the barrier, each more conflicting than the last.

“I’d say we guessed right,” it says, coaxing me to continue.

“I couldn’t care less who you share your bed with,” Fallan says, crossing his arms as he watches me. I creep closer to him, glancing at his roaring fireplace, ready to call his bluff.

Slowly, I move closer to the trash bin, reaching down to grab the picture frame. He watches me turn it over in my hands, observing it closely.

“Is everything that you say true?” I question, angrily looking at him.

“Cross my heart,” he says, leaning in, towering over me.

I nod as I back away, moving closer to the fireplace as I swing the frame in my hands.

His relaxed position on the wall grows more rigid, his body no longer so casual.

“Then none of it matters,” I whisper, gradually moving the frame closer to the flames, feeling a sense of his panic.

“There's that fire I missed,” it says with glee.

“Forest, get away from there,” Fallan says, taking several steps toward me.

“Purely physical, Fallan? Maybe I should take this to Xavier,” I start, ready to drop the frame in the flames. “He'd appreciate it-”

His hands are on my waist in a matter of seconds, pulling me away from the flames as he grabs the frame free from my hands. I watch him gently place it down on the side table closest to his couch. Once he’s made sure the picture is safe, he backs me up further several more steps. My thighs brush against something firm, meeting the edge of his bed. He pushes me down until I’m seated in front of him.

“Stop saying his name,” Fallan mutters, crouching down until he’s eye level with me. I look at him with a cocked head, narrowing my eyes at him.

“What happened when my father and his men were over here?” I question, watching Fallan’s jaw clench.

“They threatened to take away something very important to me,” he whispers, placing his hands on both sides of me and drawing a deep breath.

“Do you know what it's like to have him come in here and tell me all the places on your body he’s going to explore? The way he craves the parts of you that you hide from everyone else,” Fallan starts, his breath brushing the side of my neck as his body leans over me. I feel my heart thundering in my chest as he leans closer until his lips hover above my neck.

“Have you touched me before, Fallan?” I question, unable to stop the words from leaving me.

He smirks, his voice low as his teeth bite at my earlobe. I let out a shaky breath as he bites down gently. He supports himself to stop from crushing me.

“I have your body mapped out completely, but I've never allowed myself to explore it. You're more intoxicating than a bottle of scotch. I can’t escape how you make me feel and I want to drown in you,” he starts, his words sending chills down my spine, the ache between my legs returning. “I've never given in to this desire to touch you the way I want, to have your lips on mine,” he continues, my throat unable to contain the noise that escapes me once his lips touch my neck. I let out a soft moan as he takes the skin between his teeth, sucking gently on the sensitive areas he seems to know so well, applying more pressure as more sighs of pleasure escape me. The barrier in his mind is suddenly removed and desire overwhelms me as I feel the connection giving me access to his unbridled state. I reach my hands up toward him, grabbing his neck as I pull myself closer. His hand is already positioned to push me away, applying pressure to my lower stomach. His fears of not being able to control himself surge through the connection.

“I've already done too much,” Fallan mutters, running his free hand along the skin of my neck, observing the marks he no doubt has left. “You have to get that healed before anyone sees,” he whispers, my mind racing back to Xavier.

“Did he threaten you? Is that who you’re afraid of?” I question shakily, not letting go of him.

He pauses, keeping his hand on my lower stomach.

“Forest, you have to stop,” he mutters, his forehead pressed to mine. “If I allow myself what I want, he will know I had you. One moment of weakness is all it would take,” he continues, passing his finger over my lips. “One moment, and I wouldn’t stop. I’d fulfill every fantasy I’ve had of us,” he finishes, my mind now filled with sinful thoughts.

“Don’t push me away,” I whisper, feeling my hand placed on his own. The warmth in my stomach grows the longer he hovers over me. “Besides, there are other things you can do that don't leave a mark,” I whisper, feeling his hands brush along my lower stomach, teasing the waistline of my pants.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, as his fingers move lower toward my center.

“I can't,” I mutter, pressing my nose to his own, feeling his hand plunge completely below my waistline now. I draw in a deep breath as his hand passes over my underwear. My legs shake as his fingers explore the top of the material, gliding across my warmth. He draws in a deep breath as he caresses the fabric above my center, finding my core wet from desire for him. I let out a shaky moan, unable to contain the sheer amount of pleasure I was lost to.

His eyes watch me, the look of lust abruptly falling away.

“Stop tempting me with a quick pity fuck,” he growls, moving his hand away. The connection between us snaps.

“You're nothing but an Untouchable girl looking for validation,” he spits.

My heart wrenches, his words like a dagger being pressed into my chest.

“I don’t need you,” he finishes, the dagger now plunged into my heart completely, no longer able to be pulled free.

“And I never will.”