Miscreants: Next Generation by Natalie Bennett (essential reading .txt) 📗

supposed to be. Our love was manic—bittersweet and possessive madness. It didn’t matter that it was nurtured by blood and obsession, addictive highs and crushing lows. It continued to grow.

The secrets and animosity between us did nothing to slow its progression.

It was growing so rapidly I had become anxious.

The man beside me had become someone incredible, but I didn’t know him anymore and he wasn’t giving me a chance to learn who the new him was.

Despite all of this, I loved him now more than I ever had before. I found that realization to be terrifying—more so when I thought back to what he had said the night prior.

He began tracing up and down my spine. I snuggled closer to him, relaxing into his warmth and the softness of the duvet beneath us.

“I don’t like keeping you captive.” His deep voice broke through our comfortable blanket of quiet.

“Then why do you?”

“Because everything is different, and you’d run from me the first chance you’re given.”

There was so much I could ask or say in response to that, but I just didn’t feel like talking anymore. I was tired of spinning on this hamster wheel, running in place. We either said too little or didn’t say nearly enough and came to yet another roadblock.

Everything that needed to be vocalized was caught in our failure to communicate or our wires getting crossed.

Unless we took our clothes off. We had no problems communicating then.

It. Was. Exhausting.

If—when—I got away from him, I knew he’d come after me. He might even catch me, but that wasn’t what I was most concerned about.

I closed my eyes and pretended to be falling asleep. Either he believed the act or chose not to call me out for it. His next words threatened to splinter my resolve.

“I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I need you to know I never forgot our promise. You’ll always be the peace in my world. I’m doing all I can to make it one you want to be a part of.”

Why the hell did he have to go and say that now?

I wanted to yell—to scream—to make him explain how I could possibly be his peace when the only thing we gave one another was chaos.

I kept my eyes closed, fighting back the tears that burned behind them. If I looked at him again, in this kind of position, I’d be done for. Samael was riptide. At any given moment, he could drag me under.

I was always holding my breath and bracing for the chaos that would come once he caught me in his turbulent waters.

My best defense was the only one I had left: running.

CHAPTER NINE

The hardest part of heartbreak isn’t the ending. It’s the memories of what once was, and the possibilities of all the things that could have been.

Seeing the flowers was another blow to my psyche. When had he found the time to slip away and return before leaving on his run?

I tightened my grip on my drawstring bag, testing the weight of it. I’d heeded Poet’s advice and packed as little as I could, taking few sentimental items.

Slipping out of the cabin, I peered up at the cloud dominated sky, searching for a hint of blue or any sort of sunlight. The air felt heavier this morning, falling in line with my mood.

Spurring myself into a quick pace, I skipped the porch steps and began the trek down the path. I could still feel him as I walked. I tried not to think about that too much.

The silence was cutting.

The majority of the faction would still be sleeping while whoever was on patrol did their routes. I sincerely hoped the person guarding the docks wasn’t someone I knew well enough to give a damn about.

My breath came in small puffs, the chill in the air almost strong enough to make me wish I’d dressed in something heavier. It would be replaced by the heat soon enough, though. I’d gone the simple route: shorts, tank, cardigan flannel, and a worn pair of knee-high boots.

It was practical and flexible in case we ran into trouble. I reached the end of the path that split in two and fell right in step with Takara, who’d been waiting on me.

She wasted no time in divulging all I’d missed as she handed off a holster like Samael’s, equipped with the same style gambit.

Both of us were careful not to look overly suspicious while remaining alert in case someone spotted us. If we drew too much attention to ourselves now, we’d never make it to the docks.

“Samael and six others left about three hours ago. We’ve got Poet in place with our gear, and the other guy.”

“What other guy?”

“There are two proselytes standing watch by the docks.”

“What other guy?”

Did she think I would miss how she just avoided that question?

“Travis,” she spit out.

“Who the hell is Travis? Please tell me it’s not the man from the pens.”

“We need him. I’ll explain more once we make it out of here. We’ve gotta move quick. No one seems to know where Samael was going.”

“So, we have no idea how far he went or when he’ll be back?”

“Exactly.” She nodded so hard her ponytail swished from side to side.

Something dawned on me as we neared the decrepit building that had once been a boathouse. “How’d this Travis guy get out of the pen?”

“I let him and a few others out, then gave them instructions to run the wrong way while we went another.”

“Dang, girl. Brutal.”

She shrugged. “At least now they’ll die for a worthy cause.”

“Right. But if they tell whoever winds up catching them that it was you who opened the pen….”

“Damn. I didn’t think of that.”