The Liberator

“You like everyone.”

“Do not,” she rebuts, grinning.

My black heart sings, seeing her smiling and eating and playing normally, but I know she’s far from happy. And realizing how hard this day has been for her tears me up inside. I run my thumbs over the side of her cheeks and step closer. “How are you doing?”

Her gaze falls.

Instead of pushing for an answer, I take her hand and guide her toward a door in the far corner. Together, we spill into a small room with humble furniture: a queen-sized bed with a patchwork blanket, an oak nightstand, and a cushioned bench. I spot another door and assume it’s a bathroom; probably one we’ll share with Annabelle who’s one room over.

Charlie lets go of my hand and climbs into bed. Her hair falls over her neck, which I know bugs her. At one point, she reaches up to nudge her glasses like she sometimes does. But the glasses aren’t there anymore post makeover. Still, I find the gesture reassuring, like the Charlie I fell for, the girl who wore bad glasses and purple jeans, is still in there.

The bed groans as I lie down next to her, and I brush the hair from her neck. I lean down and kiss the bare spot. I don’t expect Charlie to respond, not after what she’s been through today. But I want her to know she’s not alone, and that I’ll be here to kiss any wound that needs healing.

“Your birthday is coming up,” I whisper near her ear. “I’m going to do something amazing for you.” I’m not sure why I bring this up, maybe to remind her that there are days to look forward to. And that no matter how chaotic things become, I’ll fight to ensure she retains some normalcy.

Charlie curls into a tight ball. “I just want her back.”

Hearing the pain in her voice, I’ve never felt so useless. I will take out any siren who tries to harm her. I will fight my way into hell to reclaim her soul. I will risk my life and everything I have to keep her safe.

But I don’t know how to protect her from this.

Charlie drops her shoulder back so we’re facing each other. Then she reaches up and cups her hand around the back of my neck.

Our lips connect.

She pulls my body nearer, and warmth wraps itself around us. My hand slides from her arm, to her hip, my fingers taking in every rise and valley of her silhouette. Slipping my leg between her knees, I tug her against me. Charlie’s palms skim up the back of my shirt. Her fingers dig into the muscle beneath my dragon ink. Deep in my gut, a primal instinct awakens. I didn’t expect this from her. But I understand it. She needs me close, close enough to remind her she’s alive and that she won’t lose someone else she cares about.

This is something I can do.

As her fingers swim through my hair, I move on top of her. I reach down, hook my arm beneath her knee, and press down. Her mouth comes away from mine, and she trails her lips down my neck to the place between my collarbones. She moves to my ear and nibbles. The sensation drives me absolutely bat shit. Before I can think, I’m tugging our clothes off.

Charlie buries her head in my neck and pulls me tight, tight enough to lose herself in this moment. Our stomachs press together, and her skin feels like silk beneath me. Sliding my hands beneath her back, I curl my fingers around her shoulders.

And then I’m the one pulling her closer.

Closer.

25 Defense

I wake to the sensation of being watched. When I glance at the foot of the bed and realize it’s not my imagination, I spring to my feet.

Two women stand shoulder to shoulder, outfitted in brown knee-length dresses. They don’t speak; they just stare.

Charlie stirs from the bed, and I rush to shield her with my body.

“What are you doing?” she says from beneath me, her voice muffled.

“Charlie,” I say, “there are two chicks with bad fashion sense standing in our room.

She whips her head around and gazes over my torso at them. “Hello.”

The women turn and leave in unison.

I glance down at Charlie. “Well, if that wasn’t the freakiest crap I’ve ever seen, then my name isn’t Dante Walker.”

She gives a half-hearted smile. “Is that your name? I’d forgotten.”

I’m tempted to tickle the life out of her, but instead decide I’d better address the stalkers in the lounge area. After climbing from the bed, I find my jeans and tug them on, keeping an eye on the open doorway. From outside, I can hear Blue speaking. His voice sounds casual, like we’re all just hanging out at a beach house on vacay.

When I slip outside the bedroom, I find Aspen and Annabelle sitting on the floor, their legs stretched beneath a coffee table. In front of each of them is a plate with the World’s Largest Omelet.

Aspen stuffs another bite into her mouth before she sees me. “Protein,” she says around her food. “Because we’re training today.”

I don’t tell her that I doubt she’s training today, even though they should totally let her, since she’s important and all. I’m more relieved she’s speaking to me at all. Instead, I focus on the two women who stand near a wall, their arms loose at their sides.

Looking at Blue, I ask, “What’s with the robots?”

He shakes his head, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. They have cuffs, though.” I glance at the women’s ankles and see he’s right. “I’m not eating that stuff,” he says. “Not until Valery says it’s safe.”

My gaze moves from Blue to a plate in front of him. I shrug as I pick it up and settle down on a yellow chair, fork at the ready. “Pussy.”

Charlie makes an appearance in the doorway. Her hair is disheveled, and her eyes dance around the room. She almost looks guilty.

Blue stops what he’s doing and studies her. His narrowed eyes narrow farther, and his mouth tightens into a thin line. Then he glares at me. His stare blazes like actual fire, and I do the thing where I pretend not to notice him watching.

One of the women carries a plate to Charlie.

“Oh, thanks,” she mumbles. “Have you eaten already?”

The woman glances nervously at the other lady behind her. Then she turns back to Charlie and nods once.

I’m halfway through my omelet when Valery strides into the room. “It’s time to go. Annabelle, Aspen, you two will stay here. The rest of you can follow me.”

“Bunch of bullshit,” Annabelle says.

“Over my dead body,” Aspen clips.

The two girls glance at each other. They seem to realize they’ve been agreeing on a lot lately but aren’t ready to admit it to themselves.

Blue, Charlie, and I follow Valery through the maze. Even after sneaking around the place last night, I have no idea where we are. A man and two young girls, all with blue dishes in their hands, pass by us. They pretend we aren’t even there, so I return the favor and keep walking.

After a few minutes—and mere moments before I scream from claustrophobia—we spill into an enormous room. Well, maybe enormous is an overstatement, but the room does look huge.

Walking toward the farthest wall, I understand why. The entire back area is one solid sheet of glass. Beyond it, the ocean spreads out like a blanket. I can hardly see the cliff’s edge from up here, and the effect makes it seem as if I’m floating on water.

“Line up,” someone orders.