Sweet Peril
Page 24

“Yes!” the man shouted. With reluctance, Kope pulled him from the wall and shoved him toward the alley’s exit. When he’d gotten his footing and ran, Kope stood there, shaking in anger. His light eyes had darkened, and I needed to calm him.
“It’s okay, Kope,” I whispered up at him. “He’s gone now. Let it go.”
He shuddered and paced for a few minutes, clenching and unclenching his hands. I gave him a smile of reassurance as I watched his breathing slow to normal. Not wasting a minute more, he leaned down and lifted Zania’s long, lightweight frame into his arms and began the trek to her house. The streets of the neighborhoods were quiet. We passed a few people who stared, but thankfully nobody tried to stop us or question the scene.
At Zania’s house, I dug my hand into her pocket and pulled out the single key to let us in.
“Which way is your room, Zania?” Kope asked. Her name sounded melodic on his lips. She lifted a floppy hand toward the stairs.
I rushed ahead up the stairs and opened the door, switching on the lamp and pulling back the coverlet before stepping out of the way. Kope laid her down with care. Then in a move that surprised me, he slid the high heels off her feet and placed them on the floor before covering her. His hands shook, and I wondered if it was leftover nerves from the altercation with the man. Watching Kope handle her with such care stirred an unexpected surge of affection inside me.
Zania whispered something, and with his hands still on the top of the blanket, he leaned down to listen.
She brought her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down.
“You can kiss me,” she whispered.
My eyebrows went straight up and Kope’s back stiffened. With a strangled grunt, he dropped the blanket and disengaged from her grasping arms. For one tense instant he stared at her like she was a bejeweled serpent, beautiful yet poisonous.
“I am sorry,” he whispered low.
His eyes shot to mine for one hot moment before he turned to leave us. I heard him go down the stairs and out the front door.
Whoa.
Zania rolled to her side and curled up, making a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Even brother Neph are repulsed by my touch,” she slurred.
“What?” I was shocked. “No, I can assure you Kope was not repulsed. Just the opposite, I think.” His lifestyle was common knowledge among our group, so I hoped he wouldn’t mind if I explained a little to alleviate her concern.
“Kopano is celibate, but he doesn’t hate women. He’s nothing like that man tonight.”
I smoothed her hair back, and touched her face with soft fingers. I found myself nursing her as Patti had done me when I was ill from the maturation of my senses. Zania made that choking sound again and a torrent of tears poured forth. When I moved closer to hold her, she reached out and clung to me as she cried, pressing her face into my abdomen.
“Don’t leave me,” she begged through drunken, pained tears. My eyes stung. The thought of having to leave her the next day made me sick to my stomach. I wished I could pack her up and take her with me. All I could do was hope that we’d earned her trust and that she’d hold the glimmer of optimism in her heart to get her through each day.
As she fell asleep curled in my arms, her words haunted me. Don’t leave me.
I woke before Zania in the morning, parched. I went downstairs to the kitchen and drank a glass of water. At the bottom of the stairs I noticed a room in the corner with the door ajar. It was dim, but I could make out pictures stuck on the walls. Holding the glass, I tiptoed to the room and pushed the door open.
It appeared to be some sort of fancy office, but the space had been cheapened by newspaper clippings and pictures tacked and taped across the walls in a sickening collage. I took a few steps in and read headlines about battles and wars, primarily in the Middle East and Africa. Genocides and mass slaughter attacks were highlighted. Some of the pictures were too gruesome to warrant more than a glance. I took a step back, realizing with disgust that this was Sonellion’s shrine to hatred. Prepared to leave, I glimpsed a picture on the desk that caught my morbid curiosity. It was an African child, a toddler, naked, crying on the ground with a woman leaning over her. What in the world was she doing? Slick fear ran through me.
“That is his most recent pet project.” Zania’s husky morning voice made me jump and spill some water. Even with puffy eyes and a tiny bruise, she was stunning.
“What’s she doing to the baby?” I prayed she would refuse to tell me.
“Female circumcision.” Her voice was quiet. She wouldn’t look at the pictures. “They remove the parts that allow them to enjoy sex.”
My insides rolled, and I brought my free hand to my mouth while the hand holding the glass trembled. She took it from me and walked out of the office. I followed her into the kitchen.
I stood there, sick and numb. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Did your father not teach you about the evil wiles of the female race?” Her tone was tainted with sarcasm. She set my glass on the marble counter and crossed her arms. “Women have no self-control and cannot be faithful. We aim to seduce every man we encounter because we cannot help our natures. In this way they are helping females and ensuring their loyalty.”
I ran past Zania, thinking about the tiny girl in the picture. I made it to the bathroom just in time to lose my glass of water in the toilet. I coughed as I crouched on the ground, tasting acid. Oh, God above . . . this was the project Sonellion was working on right now—the thing my father hadn’t wanted to tell me.