Anew: Book Two: Hunted (10 page)

Amelia

 
W
e’re a short
distance beyond where we exited the tunnel, deep in the park, when without
warning the night shatters. I stagger a few steps as the ground ripples under
my feet. Instinctively, I look back over my shoulder just in time to witness a
sight that my brain can’t immediately grasp. The sky is filled with--diamonds?
Huge, faceted, shimmering shards radiating white light are falling toward us.

Beside me, the blond man with the crew-cut who I think is
called Hollis yells, “Down! Everyone down!”

Without waiting for me to act, he grabs me and throws me to
the ground, his body arched over mine, shielding me.

I hear thuds in the distance, and screams but they hardly
register. All I can think of is--

Oh, God, Ian!

He’s back there in the midst of this horror. That harsh,
inescapable truth is agonizing. I can’t breathe or move or do anything except
endure the fear for him that is turning my body to ice.

Images flash through my mind. Ian holding me in his arms as
we danced. Smiling at my enthusiasm about the fireworks. Arousing in me the
hope that we could both put aside our darkest fears and give us another chance.

And now… Too vividly, I see one of the monstrous shards
impaling him, driving the life from him, his blood pouring out. Nausea
overwhelms me. I’m on my hands and knees, Hollis hovering over me, as I come
close to retching.

When I recover enough to realize that I’m not actually going
to do so, I become aware of my grandmother to one side of me. Marianne is on
the other, using the hem of her dress to pat beads of sweat from my face.

“It’s all right,” Adele says softly. “Ian’s tough and well
protected. He’ll come through this.”

I don’t even question how she knows the source of my
distress. And I’m far beyond embarrassment over what fear for him as done to
me. When I finally stagger to my feet, Hollis steadies me. I can hear sirens
coming from all directions. Helicopters are overhead, the fast chop of their
blades cutting through the air.

Over the roar, I yell, “We have to go back!”

He looks surprised but that’s quickly masked as he shakes
his head. “Not happening. My job is to see that all of you get to safety. Can
you walk?”

I can but I’m not about to. He has to be out of his mind if
he thinks that I’ll just go off and leave Ian --

“If you can’t, one of us will carry you,” Hollis says
emphatically. He looks as though he knows exactly what I’m thinking and is
prepared to take any steps that he must to deal with it.

I glance at Edward. Any hope I had that he would side with
me is dashed the moment he says, “We keep going. Ian has enough to deal with
right now without having to worry about you.”

The fact that he assumes Ian is still alive and in control
gives me some slight comfort but it does nothing to ease the fear clawing at
me.

“He could be hurt,” I say. “No matter what you think. We
have to go back!”

Edward and Hollis exchange a glance. Not for the first time,
I resent the way certain men have of communicating silently with each other,
quite literally over my head. They can agree on whatever they want, it doesn’t
change a thing.

I dart a quick look to the side. If I run, I’m certain that
they will follow. The problem is that they’re likely to catch me before I get
very far, especially given the ridiculously high heels that I’m wearing.

None of which means that I’m not going to try. I grip the
sides of my gown and surreptitiously hitch up my skirt, taking a deep breath as
I do so. Hollis and Edward are discussing the best route out of the park. When
they are both looking away from me, I bolt.

I run full out, taking advantage of the strength and stamina
that I’ve built up dancing. I’m heading in the direction of the red glow rising
where the Crystal Palace stood such a short time ago. Almost immediately I have
to veer around shards of glass that have pierced the ground. Each is taller
than I am. I’m struck by the sudden, fanciful notion that they look like the
teeth of a giant, mythical beast, a dragon perhaps, set out to form a
terrifying obstacle course. Seeing them makes me realize how close they and others
like then came to raining down on us. For anyone closer at the moment of the
explosion--

I hear shouts and the thud of feet behind me and speed up.
My heart is hammering, my breath becoming labored but I don’t care. Nothing is
going to keep me from Ian--

The large shape of a man looms up suddenly in front of me.
For a frantic moment, I think that one of them--Hollis, my brother, one of the
other men--has gotten out ahead of me. I try to dart around but the man is
faster. Big hands lash out. I’m hauled against a broad chest, all the breath
squeezed from me, as a voice says, “Amelia! Thank God!”

Ian!

Relief more profound than any I’ve ever known rips through
me, bringing in its wake a sudden, strange languor. If he weren’t holding me,
I’d collapse.

I look up into his face, taut with worry, and something
cracks wide open inside me. In the next instant, I’m sobbing uncontrollably.

“I thought…I was so afraid…” The words come out as little
more than gasps but he seems to understand. A tender, somewhat surprised smile
curves his mouth.

“Yeah, babe, me, too. If anything happened to you--” He
breaks off as his eyes turn dark and grim. The back of his hand brushes my
cheek with aching tenderness but a moment later, he frowns.

“Why were you running? What’s wrong?”

Seriously? Did he really just ask that?

“I thought you might need help.”

The gentle man of a moment ago vanishes in an instant. A
jagged pulse springs to life in his clenched jaw. He stares at me with
disbelief that wars with fury.

“You were going back? Putting yourself in danger
deliberately? Don’t you have any sense at all?”

My momentary weakness dissolves in a flash. I am so tired of
him or anyone else thinking that I am somehow fragile or less than capable. The
hard truth is that I would never have survived all the years that I did with my
sanity intact if I didn’t have a deep reservoir of strength. To be fair, I’ve
never told him about the memories I’m not supposed to have but fairness is very
low on the list of my priorities at the moment.

“You’re one to talk! You did exactly that for my sake but
I’m not supposed to do the same for you?”

He looks at me as though I’m some species of creature that
he’s never encountered before. His expression is a combination of stark
bewilderment and pure male frustration that under other circumstances might be
funny. Not now, though, not here in this verdant sanctuary that has suddenly
been transformed into hell.

Finally, in stark exasperation, he says, “I’m trained,
battle hardened, this is what I do. You’re--”

I hold my breath, more afraid than I want to admit of what
he will say next. You’re a replica, good only for pleasure? I have a sudden
image of a porcelain, tutu-clad figurine in an old music box twirling to a tune
plucked out by tiny pins on a metallic cylinder. An automaton without a life or
a will of her own.

His voice drops, softening a little even as his gaze remains
scorching. “You’re an amazing woman but you’re not equipped yet to take care of
yourself in this world.” As though he expects me to argue, he adds, “Running
straight into danger as you’ve just done proves that.”

In the last few hours, I’ve had hope for a future I thought
gone for good dangled in front of me, been caught up in a savage attack, and
feared for the life of the man I can’t exist without. Only to discover that he
doesn’t acknowledge me as a fully functioning adult capable of dealing with
challenges, someone who might actually be of help to him. And with that,
something inside me snaps.

“Do you have any idea how much strength it takes to--”
Endure what I did all those years in the gestation chamber? Make sense of the
world that I’ve been plunged into? Cope with the astonishing reality of what I
am? All that reveals far more than I’m willing to under the present
circumstances.

Instead, I retreat a little, taking refuge in what I fully
recognize is a metaphor of sorts for everything I have faced. “How much
strength it takes to dance? How much stamina? How much pain is involved in
making it all look effortless? No, obviously you don’t. I am not a toy for you
to keep safe on a shelf until you decide that you want to play with me. I’m a
woman, your equal in every way. Either you get that, or--”

I break off because the blazing heat in his eyes makes me
forget how to breathe.

“Are you giving me an ultimatum, Amelia?”

From the very beginning, I have understood that this wounded
prince who walked out of the darkness to claim me is a man to soothe and
placate, above all to please. More often than not I know how to do that. But
this time when I open my mouth to respond, what comes out sounds inexplicably
like, “Yes, I am.”

The night turns suddenly very quiet. I can hear my own
breathing and the rapid beat of my heart. The air between us feels charged as
though by an oncoming electrical storm. It prickles along my skin, entering
through my pores, settling deep within me.

Ian takes a step forward, another. I remain where I am,
refusing to back down, unable to look away. The moment stretches out, seemingly
endlessly.

And then he is there, right in front of me, his big hands
cupping my face with exquisite gentleness. He bends his head, slowly, giving me
time to pull away. I see the desperate yearning in his eyes that mirrors my
own.

Without thought, I close the small distance between us. My
lips brush against his, savoring, tasting, parting. My tongue slips into his
mouth and finds his. The passion that explodes between us is instant and
overwhelming. It blocks out everything else, even the nearness of death. Or
perhaps it is that shared knowledge of our own mortality that fuels it. Life is
precious, every moment counts, and we have been apart far too long.

A low growl wells up in him. His hands, gentle moments
before, close on me with roughness that far from being frightening, elates me.
I want this man, all of him, the light he doesn’t believe exists in him and the
dark that I long to banish. As maddening as he can be, he is mine every bit as
much as I am his. Whether he understands that or not.

Fury, hurt, fear, all of it collides with sheer unbridled
lust. I suck hard on his tongue, drawing him even deeper into my mouth and claw
at the armor over his chest and shoulders. I love that armor; it may very well
have saved his life. And I hate it. I desperately want it off and the two of us
skin-to-skin, as close as we can be until I take him inside--

A throat clears behind me. In the small part of my brain
that’s still functioning, it sounds like a thunder clap.

I whirl around to find Edward watching us. All I see of
Hollis is his back as he withdraws quickly. The man is nothing if not discrete.
Unlike my brother.

“Do we have time for this?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “We
should be moving on.”

Strong hands set me aside even as one twines with my own,
fingers interlacing, keeping me close.

“We should,” Ian says with a nod. “We’ll go to Pinnacle
House. Nowhere in the city is safer.”

He sounds completely impervious to what has just happened
between us. A dart of resentment moves through me. Once, at the estate, he
indulged me with the illusion of control. Now I realize that I want the real
thing, not forever, not even mainly, but I want to see him come undone and know
that I am the cause.

Before Edward can reply, my grandmother joins us. Adele’s
silver hair is a bit mussed but otherwise she looks perfectly calm, as though
nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I can only admire--and envy--her
composure.

 “You should certainly do so,” she says to Ian, not
unkindly. “The rest of us need to return to our own residences.”

“With all respect, ma’am,” he begins, “that isn’t a good
idea.”

“On the contrary, the last thing we want to do right now is
draw attention to ourselves.” She holds up a hand, forestalling any further
argument. “We are the innocent, shocked survivors of a terrible atrocity, no
different from all the others who were here tonight and are fortunate enough to
still be alive. We were
not
escorted away just as the attack began,
escaping through a tunnel in the company of your men who were present in force
and for unexplained reasons.”

It takes several seconds for her meaning to sink in. When it
does, I gasp. “You aren’t suggesting that anyone could believe Ian was involved
in the attack?” That’s insane yet I can’t overlook the fact that the city
creates its own reality, different in so many ways from the world that normal,
ordinary people inhabit.