A guy I don’t recognize steps into the clearing, both of his hands lifted, palms out. A sign of surrender. His hair is the color of spun gold, and he’s impossibly handsome. He has the kind of face you’d see on a magazine. World’s Sexiest Male.
He is the saint to Killian’s sinner.
Like Killian, he’s without a coat. He’s wearing a T-shirt that hugs the massive cut of his biceps. Also like Killian, he’s tall and gloriously muscled.
“Stay where you are,” Clay commands. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
“Why would you hurt me? Ten asked for my help.” The newcomer takes one more step, landing in a beam of moonlight. “Here I am.”
“You heard her call for Archer, could have decided to pretend you’re him to take advantage of her.”
His gaze locks with mine, his eyes odd yet captivating, the color of copper, and smoldering with an intensity that should be too much for any one person to contain. They are Bow’s eyes.
“I am Archer.”
I detect a slight English accent, the very voice that once whispered through my head, and I reel anew. Killian told me I would see Bow again—Bow, as a male named Archer.
Well, I’m seeing him.
“What are you?” I want to hear him say it.
He smiles. “You know what I am... Sperm Bank.”
I lurch back.
“Well, I don’t know who you are. Why are you talking about a sperm bank?” Clay turns to me. “And what do you mean, what is he?”
“You’re a TL,” I say to Archer. “My TL, to be exact.”
His nod is relieved and resigned at once. “And you’re going to have to trust me, at least for a little while, if you want Sloan to live. I can get her warm and hide her from approaching guards.”
I’m just as relieved, just as resolved, but I’m also angry all over again. How dare he pretend to be a girl, invading my privacy? How dare he pretend to be my friend?
I don’t trust him, not anymore. He’s as bad as Killian, only wanting one thing. But I give him a clipped wave over anyway. At the moment, he is Sloan’s best and only chance for survival.
He needs no more encouragement and springs into motion. Clay and I stand in place, watching as Archer crouches, holds out his hands and taps his fingers over the top of his palm. A bright blue light springs from his flesh—like the one I saw on Killian—and my jaw drops.
“What do you really look like?” I ask.
“Exactly like this.” He dances his fingers through the light, as if he’s typing. I think... I think he is typing. He stands, moves a few yards away and repeats the process, crouching and typing. He does this four times in total, until he’s formed a square with us in the center.
“What’s happening?” Clay asks, his incredulity as fierce as my own. “How are you glowing?”
“One of the perks of the job. I’m always hooked to the Grid.”
Grid?
He advances until he’s inside the square with us then types into the blue light one more time. The light vanishes—only to reappear in the four corners he created. Beams shoot up, out, over and under us, forming walls and surrounding us with heat, such delicious heat. And the walls are so freaking beautiful, sparkling with diamond dust. I can almost convince myself the sky fell on top of us and stars are glimmering.
I reach out with a trembling hand and ghost my fingertips over the wall. And that’s exactly what it is. A wall of air with a jellylike consistency—jellyair. Trademark pending, I think drily. I can joke or sob. How is any of this possible?
Ripples spread from one wall to the other, entrancing me. “How are we hidden?”
“We see the light.” Archer crouches beside Sloan and measures her pulse. “Others see the reflection of the forest.”
“And if they bump into us?”
“They won’t. The moment the light activated, Troikan Messengers arrived. You can’t see them, but they’re there.”
“Fear based?” I ask, still resentful of my encounter with the Myriad Messengers.
He gives me a look, all, Who do you think you’re dealing with, puny human? “Distraction based.”
“Messengers.” Clay rubs the back of his neck. “That’s the job my ML and TL said I’d have in the Everlife.”
“Have you signed with one of the realms?” I panic at the thought. What if we end up on different sides?
“Not yet. But I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I’m leaning toward Troika. My family is Troikan and I’d like to spend eternity with them.”
“But... I thought you hated your family for sending you to Prynne.”
He peers at his feet. “I hated myself. And as horrible as my experience at Prynne has been, I can’t regret coming here. I’m sober. I met you...and Marlowe.”
Marlowe, who might or might not be in Troika right now.
“After I help Sloan, I can give you a tour of the realm.” Archer takes a dagger from a sheath at his ankle and slashes his wrist. He holds the wound over Sloan’s lips.
“Wait. What are you—” He’s not doing the vampire thing, at least. Glittery liquid leaks out rather than blood.
“I’m giving her Lifeblood,” he says. “She’ll heal.”
As droplet after droplet trickles into her mouth, she gives no reaction. But Archer appears satisfied by the time his wound mends. Mends, right before my eyes, the flesh weaving back together. I’ve never seen anything like it.
He lowers his arm and smiles at Clay. “Now for the tour.”
The words are for Clay, but the tour is for my benefit, I’m sure. My anger with Archer hasn’t lessened, despite his cool tricks, and I currently want nothing to do with his realm.
He types in his arm again, and a few seconds later, images begin to play over the walls. Like Killian, he shows me a beach. Only this one is sun-drenched, revealing the crystal clarity of rainbow-colored water. When I see surfers riding waves—and whales!—I close my eyes, every muscle in my body clenching. He’s using the information he gathered against me. Information he shouldn’t have.
Can no one like me just because I’m me? Will I always be a commodity to win rather than a person to love?
Chapter ten
“Grass isn’t greener on the other side. Grass is greener when you water it.”
—Troika
A bead of sweat trickles between my shoulder blades, and I remove everything but my uniform to use as a cushion, creating a cozy spot to rest beside Sloan. She’s still unconscious, but I’m happy to note rosy color is seeping into her cheeks. Archer’s Lifeblood worked.
I guess he’s not a total ass.
Clay does a similar strip after the tour, sits beside me and focuses on the TL. “I refused to speak with my TL for years. A way to punish my parents, I think. Maybe myself. I’ve regretted the decision for a while now.”
“If you’ll accept me, I’ll be happy to be your TL by proxy.”
“You can do that?”
“I’ve already requested and gained permission.”
“I’ll accept you, thank you.” Clay looks down at his wringing hands. “A covenant was offered to me years ago. My parents told me the offer was revoked. I’d done too much...”
He is the saint to Killian’s sinner.
Like Killian, he’s without a coat. He’s wearing a T-shirt that hugs the massive cut of his biceps. Also like Killian, he’s tall and gloriously muscled.
“Stay where you are,” Clay commands. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
“Why would you hurt me? Ten asked for my help.” The newcomer takes one more step, landing in a beam of moonlight. “Here I am.”
“You heard her call for Archer, could have decided to pretend you’re him to take advantage of her.”
His gaze locks with mine, his eyes odd yet captivating, the color of copper, and smoldering with an intensity that should be too much for any one person to contain. They are Bow’s eyes.
“I am Archer.”
I detect a slight English accent, the very voice that once whispered through my head, and I reel anew. Killian told me I would see Bow again—Bow, as a male named Archer.
Well, I’m seeing him.
“What are you?” I want to hear him say it.
He smiles. “You know what I am... Sperm Bank.”
I lurch back.
“Well, I don’t know who you are. Why are you talking about a sperm bank?” Clay turns to me. “And what do you mean, what is he?”
“You’re a TL,” I say to Archer. “My TL, to be exact.”
His nod is relieved and resigned at once. “And you’re going to have to trust me, at least for a little while, if you want Sloan to live. I can get her warm and hide her from approaching guards.”
I’m just as relieved, just as resolved, but I’m also angry all over again. How dare he pretend to be a girl, invading my privacy? How dare he pretend to be my friend?
I don’t trust him, not anymore. He’s as bad as Killian, only wanting one thing. But I give him a clipped wave over anyway. At the moment, he is Sloan’s best and only chance for survival.
He needs no more encouragement and springs into motion. Clay and I stand in place, watching as Archer crouches, holds out his hands and taps his fingers over the top of his palm. A bright blue light springs from his flesh—like the one I saw on Killian—and my jaw drops.
“What do you really look like?” I ask.
“Exactly like this.” He dances his fingers through the light, as if he’s typing. I think... I think he is typing. He stands, moves a few yards away and repeats the process, crouching and typing. He does this four times in total, until he’s formed a square with us in the center.
“What’s happening?” Clay asks, his incredulity as fierce as my own. “How are you glowing?”
“One of the perks of the job. I’m always hooked to the Grid.”
Grid?
He advances until he’s inside the square with us then types into the blue light one more time. The light vanishes—only to reappear in the four corners he created. Beams shoot up, out, over and under us, forming walls and surrounding us with heat, such delicious heat. And the walls are so freaking beautiful, sparkling with diamond dust. I can almost convince myself the sky fell on top of us and stars are glimmering.
I reach out with a trembling hand and ghost my fingertips over the wall. And that’s exactly what it is. A wall of air with a jellylike consistency—jellyair. Trademark pending, I think drily. I can joke or sob. How is any of this possible?
Ripples spread from one wall to the other, entrancing me. “How are we hidden?”
“We see the light.” Archer crouches beside Sloan and measures her pulse. “Others see the reflection of the forest.”
“And if they bump into us?”
“They won’t. The moment the light activated, Troikan Messengers arrived. You can’t see them, but they’re there.”
“Fear based?” I ask, still resentful of my encounter with the Myriad Messengers.
He gives me a look, all, Who do you think you’re dealing with, puny human? “Distraction based.”
“Messengers.” Clay rubs the back of his neck. “That’s the job my ML and TL said I’d have in the Everlife.”
“Have you signed with one of the realms?” I panic at the thought. What if we end up on different sides?
“Not yet. But I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I’m leaning toward Troika. My family is Troikan and I’d like to spend eternity with them.”
“But... I thought you hated your family for sending you to Prynne.”
He peers at his feet. “I hated myself. And as horrible as my experience at Prynne has been, I can’t regret coming here. I’m sober. I met you...and Marlowe.”
Marlowe, who might or might not be in Troika right now.
“After I help Sloan, I can give you a tour of the realm.” Archer takes a dagger from a sheath at his ankle and slashes his wrist. He holds the wound over Sloan’s lips.
“Wait. What are you—” He’s not doing the vampire thing, at least. Glittery liquid leaks out rather than blood.
“I’m giving her Lifeblood,” he says. “She’ll heal.”
As droplet after droplet trickles into her mouth, she gives no reaction. But Archer appears satisfied by the time his wound mends. Mends, right before my eyes, the flesh weaving back together. I’ve never seen anything like it.
He lowers his arm and smiles at Clay. “Now for the tour.”
The words are for Clay, but the tour is for my benefit, I’m sure. My anger with Archer hasn’t lessened, despite his cool tricks, and I currently want nothing to do with his realm.
He types in his arm again, and a few seconds later, images begin to play over the walls. Like Killian, he shows me a beach. Only this one is sun-drenched, revealing the crystal clarity of rainbow-colored water. When I see surfers riding waves—and whales!—I close my eyes, every muscle in my body clenching. He’s using the information he gathered against me. Information he shouldn’t have.
Can no one like me just because I’m me? Will I always be a commodity to win rather than a person to love?
Chapter ten
“Grass isn’t greener on the other side. Grass is greener when you water it.”
—Troika
A bead of sweat trickles between my shoulder blades, and I remove everything but my uniform to use as a cushion, creating a cozy spot to rest beside Sloan. She’s still unconscious, but I’m happy to note rosy color is seeping into her cheeks. Archer’s Lifeblood worked.
I guess he’s not a total ass.
Clay does a similar strip after the tour, sits beside me and focuses on the TL. “I refused to speak with my TL for years. A way to punish my parents, I think. Maybe myself. I’ve regretted the decision for a while now.”
“If you’ll accept me, I’ll be happy to be your TL by proxy.”
“You can do that?”
“I’ve already requested and gained permission.”
“I’ll accept you, thank you.” Clay looks down at his wringing hands. “A covenant was offered to me years ago. My parents told me the offer was revoked. I’d done too much...”
