Blacklisted (13 page)

Erik was not on the bed as I'd left him. Where had he gone? My excitement mutated into disappointment. A second later, however, he strode from the side door. I lost my breath. He looked good. Really good. He'd cleaned up, like I had, and now wore a pair of jeans, the adhesive strip unfastened. No shirt.

His skin was bronzed, ripped. His tattoo stretched over his stomach, his belly button acting as one of the cat's eyes. Was it bad that I wanted to pet that cat?

When he spotted me, he ground to a stop. His gaze became a dark inferno. I didn't speak as I walked to the bed and lay back down. He did the same. We faced each other, not touching. Just
knowing
. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, an awakened river.

I didn't want to let fear rule my life anymore. I didn't want to be a coward and not do the things I wanted most. And right now I wanted to kiss Erik Troy.

Right now, I wanted everything he had to give.

Still silent, I leaned toward him. As it turned out, I didn't have to say anything. He met me in the middle. Our lips meshed, both opening automatically. Our tongues thrust together and his warm, minty flavor danced across my tastebuds.

One of his hands tangled in my hair, pulling me so close our teeth banged together. His other hand wrapped around my waist, trailing heat up and down my spine. Delicious heat.

I flattened my palms on his chest and his tiny nipples speared me. I could feel the quickness of his heartbeat. His skin was hot, so hot. Burning. Our bodies pressed together—mmm, I wanted to arch and moan,
did
arch,
did
moan—and then he was rubbing against me.

Hot before. Blistered now.

I panted his name. “Erik. Erik.”

“I'm right here, baby.” He cupped my breast, kneading.

I gasped in surprised delight.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said.

“I do. Promise.” I continued to arch forward, back, forward again, unable to stop the actions. Moaned again. So badly I wanted to reach between us and feel him, really feel him, that part of him that made us different. I didn't, though. Too unsure. Hadn't done that before, didn't know if he'd like it. If I'd do it right.

Where's the brave girl who kissed him?

“Erik?”

Someone said his name and it wasn't me. That barely registered in my brain, however. More kiss. More touch. More. Just more.

“Erik? You up, man?”

Who was—?

“Erik?”

Erik stiffened and pulled away from me. His breathing was ragged. He pressed a button on the black box perched on the nightstand. “Yeah, Silver. I'm up.”

“Breakfast will be ready in fifteen.”

My gaze locked with Erik's. His expression tightened, the fine lines around his mouth straining. “Thanks.” He pressed the button again.

Several minutes passed and neither of us uttered a word. I used the time to get myself under control. Breathing—slow, easy. Skin—cooling degree by degree. Hunger—stubborn, remaining.

“I, uh, should probably call my parents,” I said. Now there was a sobering thought. “I need to let them know when to expect me.” And that I'm okay, in case A.I.R. had finally contacted them.

Slowly Erik frowned. “I don't know, Camille. You're in deep now and your parents could be used against you.” He pondered it for a moment. “What did they think you were doing last night?”

I sat up and shook my head, hair tumbling down my back, tickling. “They thought I was staying the night with my friend, Tawny.”

He relaxed against the pillow. “All right. Call them and tell them you want to stay another night with Tawny.”

“But I don't really have a friend named Tawny,” I admitted, biting my bottom lip. “Shanel and I made her up so we could stay out all night. I didn't worry about them trying to call her so late at night, but they might try to call sometime during the day.”

Erik regarded me for a heartbeat of time before bursting into laughter. “Hard to picture you lying to Mommy and Daddy.”

“I know,” I mumbled. “I'm a menace.”

“You keep this up and you'll soon be picking fights and taking names.”

I rolled my eyes, but I'd be lying if I claimed I didn't like the image. Me, kicking ass. Oh yeah.

Erik's serious edge returned and he said, “You can't go home yet, Camille. A.I.R. will be watching your house, waiting.”

Sighing, I rubbed my temples to ward off a sharp ache. “They could have contacted my parents already, who could be worried sick about me even now.”

Once more he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Having worked for A.I.R., I know how they operate. They'll refrain from worrying your parents so that you're less afraid to go home. They might secretly tap the lines, yeah, but not worry the parents.”

“Still…”

“If you want, you can call them and tell them, I don't know…you're running away or you need time to think about your life. Or if you want to stick with the truth, tell them A.I.R. is chasing you but that you're hiding and you're safe and you'll call them again in a few days. Keep it brief, though. Sound good?”

My stomach rolled at the thought of confessing what I'd gotten myself into. They'd be worried (if they weren't already), and they'd be disappointed, and they'd be pissed. They'd demand that I come home right away. But maybe…

I blinked as an idea hit me. Maybe my dad could help Erik and his cause. Maybe my dad could work the system and help change the laws so that aliens could receive Onadyn when they needed it, no matter who they were related to. Dad had never worked on behalf of Outers nor for their needs, but if his only “precious” daughter begged him to do it…

“I'll call them,” I said, determination rushing through me.

Erik reached behind him and grabbed a cell unit from the nightstand. He placed it in my hands, but didn't pull away. He lingered, tracing my fingertips with his own. “I'll give you some privacy,” he said, and there was a wistful edge to the words. “I'll check on breakfast. You, me, Silver, and Shanel will have a big, long talk. Okay?”

“'K. Hey!” I groaned as something else occurred to me. “Why doesn't A.I.R. just storm
this
house?” I asked, my nerves now all the more raw.

“This house is actually owned by a human—or a human identity, I should say. Aliens are smart, and have learned to get fake IDs just as humans have. They find a child who died, take the name, have all sorts of legal documents drawn up, and then…”

Would I ever learn the ins and outs of this life?

He shrugged. “A.I.R. has stormed this place several times before, but always came up empty. Now a lawsuit is pending. They can't enter again without absolute proof of wrongdoing. And if they tried, we'd be notified and out before they ever hit the front steps.”

No, I wouldn't, I decided.

“Kitchen's down the steps, past the living room. First room on the right.” He rolled from the bed.

I could have stared at him all day. He was so strong, capable, and sure. My gaze landed on the welts on his back. Crap. I'd forgotten about them and had rubbed him there. Maybe squeezed. He might be strong, but that didn't mean I should abuse him.

“Did I, uh, hurt you when I, uh, kissed you?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder and smiled. “Totally worth it.”

A blush heated my cheeks.

He left the room without another word, the door shutting behind him automatically and cutting him off from my view. A sense of emptiness hit me.

Sighing, I looked down at the phone. “Here goes,” I said with trepidation, then spoke my dad's name and address into the mouthpiece. The phone dialed immediately and I almost threw up. Almost disconnected. In the end, I was a brave little solider and remained on the line. Barely.

My mom finally answered, breathless, as if she'd run to the phone.

“Have you talked to anyone about me, Mom?” were the first words out of my mouth.

“What? No. Camille?” she asked, clearly confused.

Before I could stop myself, I told her how I'd lied about Tawny, what I'd done, where I'd been, and what had happened. At first she laughed like I was joking.

“Listen to me and hear the fear in my voice. Everything I've said is true. A.I.R.
is
chasing me.” After everything I'd done to presereve my lies, admitting the truth felt surprisingly good.

There was a pause. A gasp. A whimper. She began to believe. There was terror in her voice as she yelled at me. The disappointment I'd anticipated came next as she cried.

“I'm sorry,” I said, feeling lower than I ever had before. “So very sorry, but it's safer this way. For everyone. I have to go now.”

“Camille!” Her panic stayed my hand and I didn't disconnect. “Don't do this. Come home.” Desperation clung to every word, all the more potent because of the panic.

My stomach churned. How could I do this to her?

“We'll sit down together and discuss this,” she said. “We'll find a way to get you out of this situation. Everything will be okay. You'll see. We'll call the police. We'll have your dad call the district attorney. They're golf buddies. You don't need to run or hide.”

“You didn't see the way A.I.R. treated me.” And now that I'd escaped them, making me appear all the more guilty, they'd be even worse. “If the police were to give me back to them…. Tell Daddy to start looking for ways to change the Onadyn laws,” I said with a trembling breath. “If Outers aren't predatory, they should be allowed to get the drug no matter who they're related to. Kids are dying, Mom, and we have to do something.”

“Camille. Camille, sweetheart, listen to me. I need you—”

“I really have to go now. I love you, and I'm sorry. Stay safe.” I hung up before she could say another world. Before she could talk me into forgetting what needed to be done. A tremor rocked me from head to toe.

I couldn't believe I'd just confessed such crimes to my mother. Things might never be the same between us again. But that was okay. I wasn't the same girl I'd been.

Tossing the phone aside, I clumped from the bed. My legs were shaky, but not as bad as before. I changed into another of Erik's shirts. Instead of boxers, however, I pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and tied them at the waist. He'd also found me a pair of boots and had placed them by the door. I tugged them on—but not before I'd smothered the cuts and bruises with that numbing paste.

When I was done, a quick glance in the mirror showed that I didn't look my best in the baggy clothes and the dark circles of fatigue hadn't faded from under my eyes, but I didn't look my worst, either. I looked fragile, delicate. And yet, I looked ready to take on the world. Determined. My cheeks were rosy, my lips slightly swollen.

I look kissed
, I thought.

Smiling, I trudged from the room and managed to find the stairs without losing myself in the maze that was Silver's house. My stomach growled in anticipation of a meal. I smacked my lips, only then realizing how dry my mouth was.

At the bottom of the stairs, I heard laughter and familiar voices and followed the sound, smile growing again at the thought of being with Er—uh, Shanel. Shanel! I quickened my steps and bypassed the very comfortable and expensive-looking living room with its overstuffed chairs and polished wood (real?) floors. As Erik promised, the kitchen was the first room on the right.

Erik, Silver, and Shanel were seated at the round table, drinking juice and nibbling on syn-eggs. My mouth watered. I inhaled deeply, savoring the mouth-watering scent. How long had it been since I'd eaten?

An alien woman—an older, beautiful Morevv—stood at the stove, frying something blue, I realized. With scales? Ugh. Okay, I wasn't so hungry for
that
. Whatever it was. The woman herself was a pretty pink color from head to toe.

Sensing me, Erik glanced in my direction. He smiled. “Everything okay?”

I nodded. Yeah, it was. My parents now knew the truth, but I could live with their upset because I'd done the right thing.

Shanel faced me and squealed. She clapped her hands and jumped to her feet. “Camille! You're here, you're really here!”

We raced toward each other, meeting in the middle, and hugging. She still smelled like dirt, and in that moment it was the best smell ev-er. Her soft red curls tickled my cheek.

“Tell me everything!” she said. “Erik is being secretive.”

“Are you okay?” First things first. My gaze raked over her, noting that she appeared healthy and whole and glowed with rosy happiness. Sadly I had learned that appearances could often be deceiving.

“I'm better than okay.” A wicked twinkle sparkled in her emerald eyes. “When Silver and I left the club, we came here. He had to talk to some people about helping Erik—speaking of, I'm upset with you for not telling me good-bye at the club, but I'll forgive you because Silver told me you got sick and—hey, are you all better?” She didn't wait for my response, but continued, “Silver and I talked and laughed and played cards and Rose—” Shanel pointed to the Morevv at the stove. “—the housekeeper, made us cake and we ate it and it was so good.”