Salinger

Tia’s fingernails dig into my skin as she grips my hand more tightly. If I doubted her desire to bear children before, there is no question in my mind now. She’s practically drawing blood.

She knows getting pregnant is a death sentence.

But then, why enter the Lottery and increase your chances of getting knocked up?

It makes me realize I don’t actually know my wife at all.

Does anyone?

Christina Thorne. I glance down at her, studying the elegant lines of her face, the sharp, intelligent green eyes. Who are you?

“Now, shall we have a test before we say our goodbyes?” Mother asks her expression a cool, collected mask, void of emotions.

I blanch, chest tightening. I’ve always hated my mother’s games because she never played fair.  

“What test?” I ask.

A sliver of a smile plays on her lips. “A pregnancy test. Isn’t that the entire--”

“No,” Tia speaks vehemently. “Absolutely not. I would never subject myself--”

“Ahh.” My mother leans back in her wheelchair, eying Tia more scrupulously. “You certainly have no trouble speaking your mind, do you?”

“I just…” Tia rubs her temple, collecting her thoughts. “I’m exhausted and the last thing I’m going to do is let my blood be drawn by a woman I’ve never met.”

“I wouldn’t do the draw,” she scoffs. “Listen to me, child. This is life or death. Wouldn’t you want to know the moment of conception? Wouldn’t that better your chances of survival?”

Tia looks ill, her face gone ashen white, her eyes glazed over.

“She needs to lie down,” I tell them. “We traveled with a fucking blindfold to your underground lair. It’s too much for her. She’s had a long day, she doesn’t need to be prodded and poked by your scientists.”

Mother dismisses my comments, waving her hand. “Maybe she’s tired because she’s with child.”

“No. I’m done for the day,” Tia says, straightening her back and looking at my mother dead on. “Either give us a room for the night, or we need a driver to take us home.”

I raise my eyebrows, not knowing how my mother will respond to another woman who doesn’t know how to back down.

“Are you always so headstrong?” Mother asks.

Tia nods. “Always.”

The corner of my mother’s lip raises ever so slightly, and she offers my father a nod of concession. “You may have done wrong in not telling me your plan, Mosby. But you certainly know how to choose them.”

My father smirks, stepping toward her. “I don’t like weak women. I married you after all.”

I feel ill. My parents’ love-hate relationship confused me as a child and makes me nauseous even as an adult.

They may enjoy pushing one another to the breaking point and then reeling the other back in, but I don’t like those kinds of games. And I certainly won’t play them with Tia.

My wife needs to explain herself. To come clean, completely. She’s been lying since the moment we exchanged vows. And her father isn’t going to back down. God only knows the danger she’s in. That we’re all in.

Warren Thorne is a man of means, funded by a corrupt government and feasting on twisted experiments that exploit women.

I know my mother detests his practices. Hell, everyone in Alaska does. We all know the underground whispers of the mad scientist. How he supposedly injected ten women with pig semen to see if they would reject that too.

A shudder rolls down my back.

We saw the leaked photos of his female patients after going through several rounds of fertility treatments. The pictures showed the dead women’s swollen limbs, sunken eyes, skin so discolored and raw from the toxicity levels, that my stomach had heaved at the sight. He touted his experiment as successful, but how is it a success when the number of women we have is already so terrifyingly low? To sacrifice life in the name of science. It’s barbaric.

Right now, all that faces us, headlong. An evil man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. No matter the cost. And that isn’t even counting the fact that Tia was fucking betrothed to a man that is anti-Alaska with every breath he takes.

People may take stabs at what a freak show Warren Thorne is, but if you’re at a bar, throwing a few back and you get someone talking about Lawson Jefferson, you’re just asking for a rant. That man is a douche-canoe and a half, with a fucking fake smile and a small ass dick.

He’s the poster child for everything that is wrong with America, and now my wife has brought two monsters to our doorstep.

“We’re going to my room,” I tell my mother, keeping Tia’s hand in my own.

But Mom and Dad are lost in a disgusting kiss already, their twisted desire for one another stoking the fury brewing in my heart.

“Come on,” I tell my wife, dragging her through a door. “We can stay in my old bedroom.”

“This is where you grew up?” she asks as I navigate the corridors, shock in her voice.

I nod. “Fucked up right? I couldn’t even get to my own home without an escort.”

“You mean you don’t know where we are?”

I smirk, but there’s no humor in it. “I told you, fucked up. Though I could make a good guess. Still, don’t you think the blindfolds are a little much?”

She shrugs, looking at the sterile walls and the long hall. “I guess it depends on what kind of secrets your mother is keeping.”

“Hell, if I know. I just know she came from money, lots of it, and uses her cash to fund her projects. Her secret projects. And while your dad is playing mad scientist in Seattle, she’s playing her own game up here. But even I don’t have access to what she’s working on.”

“Is she looking for a cure?”

“Maybe.” I run a hand through my thick hair. “I don’t fucking know. I hate all of this.”

Tia scoffs, pulling her hand away from mine.

“What did I do wrong now?”

“You made light of this situation.” She shakes her head, exasperated. “You grew up in a freaking futuristic laboratory and never asked a question about why. I just find your nonchalance a little offensive.”

I snort, walking past the door on my right, the one that holds so many memories, my chest squeezing. Instead, I push open my old bedroom door. I haven’t been here in years and when we step inside, nothing has changed.

“Well, good on you, Christina,” I say her real name with a hint of venom. “For being so damn high and mighty. And I suppose you know all the fucked up shit your dad does in his lab?”

She draws back, standing in the doorway. “What do you mean?”

My lip curls, trying to decipher how genuine she is being. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

I frown. “Why did you run away, Tia?”

She steps into the room and shuts the door behind her. She looks around furtively, and the strong, self-assured woman that was speaking to my mother seems a million miles away.

“I couldn’t marry Lawson. I couldn’t be his wife. He was so...” She covers her face, and I see how much the day’s events have weighed on her. “I know he paid for me and I owed him my body, but I couldn’t bear the idea of dying to bring his child into the world.”

“It wasn’t because of your father?”

Her eyes bore into mine. “What do you know about my father?”

“That he has a reputation.”

She swallows. “He’s intense and controlling, but he means well. He’s spent his life working on a cure.”

I’m not sure how much of what she says she truly believes, but I can tell she isn’t aware of half the stuff Warren Thorne has done in the name of the so-called cure.

“He sold you,” I say, closing the door and locking it. “To a man you didn’t love. And yet you still see him as a hero?”

“A hero?” She shakes her head. “No. I know he’s a dangerous man. I know...” Her eyes go distant and she wraps her arms around herself, shivering. “I was his little girl. His only daughter. And while I underwent lots of lab work and testing, it was all for my own good. I didn’t like that part, but I wasn’t alone in it. All of the women at Saint Augustine’s were a part of his research.”

Despite everything he did to her, there’s still a little girl inside her head that wants to think the best of the man. Hell, I get it. My own parents are the furthest things from saints, and yet there’s a piece of me that wants their approval. In fact, craves it.  

I drag my fingers over my face. “You have to see how fucked up that is, right?”

She glares at me. “Meanwhile, you don’t even ask your mother what she’s doing here. That’s how little this population problem matters to you. But Salinger, my life is at stake. The future of humanity is at stake.”

I listen to her and realize she really hasn’t a clue of how bad it is. What her father has done. What he continues to do. I don’t think she has any idea that he actually tortures women. My only comfort is knowing he never hurt her. At least, not in the way he’d hurt others.

I won’t be the one to break that news to her. Especially, not tonight.

Tia sits on the edge of the bed and takes off her shoes. Her shoulders slouch forward like the weight of the world rests on them.

“And yet, you’re afraid of the man,” I say to her, kicking my own shoes off and crawling onto the bed beside her.

“The fact that I ran from my betrothed means my father will kill any man who has touched me,” she says. “He was overwhelming in his desire to keep me safe. And it stifled me, Sal. It was like I lived in a web he spun and could never break free of, and him choosing Lawson for me was the final straw. He said it was to protect me, but it felt like I was trapped.”

“But you did break free, Tia,” I say, wanting to pull her back into my arms, but not knowing if she’d accept my comfort.

“Did I?” She shakes her head and lies down beside me, staring up at the ceiling.  

My heart softens for her as I see how much she is struggling with the facts of her life story. It’s strange, being alone with her like this. She is this wild woman, all fury and spitfire one moment, and the next she looks so damn vulnerable, so raw.

Maybe that’s why hard-headed men like Fallon and Giles have already confessed their love for her. She is both hard and soft, bitter and sweet. Tia is not just one thing. She’s a woman with multiple layers, and that makes me think my father didn’t fuck up when he put my name in the Lottery.

If I was going to have a woman, I’d sure as hell want her to be like the one I’ve got.

And I did confess my love tonight to my parents. It may not be the all-consuming love Giles and Fallon feel for her, but it’s the start of something. And I know it could be so much more if she would fully open up to me if we had time. But that’s one thing I’m not sure we have.

I drag my knuckles over her cheek. So damn beautiful.

“You’re free, Tia. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I broke free all right,” she says, emotions twisting her face. “And in doing so, I trapped you and five other men. And you, Salinger, never even wanted to marry, to be in the Lottery. I did more than trap you. I ruined you.”

I give her a weak smile, the best I can muster. “Nah, I’m not ruined. I just wish that things were different.” I lay next to her on the bed, wishing I had the capacity to give her more, give her anything.

But I feel like I’m sitting beside a stranger. She’s falsely presented herself to me, to her other husbands, to the government of Alaska. The truth is, this entire marriage is a sham.

It’s illegal, by Universal law, to sleep with a woman already bought and paid for. And the fact that she crossed state lines while already paid for is an even larger offense. Sure, women do it all the time, but not women running from men as powerful as Warren Thorne and Lawson Jefferson.

She knew how dangerous this was, and yet she did it anyway. Ran from a life that would no doubt be more comfortable than one I and her other five husbands could ever provide.

The issues she had with Lawson must have been serious.

I take her hand in mine, entwining our fingers.

“You know how you didn’t want to marry me?” she asks, turning her face to mine and giving me the softest smile.

I lift my eyebrows.

“Well, I have a confession.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“I didn’t realize Alaska had this lottery. I came here thinking I’d marry one man, for love. Not six.”

I swallow. I hadn’t thought about how difficult it must be for her to be married to six men. I grew up knowing that if I ever got married, I would most likely share a wife. But for someone unaccustomed to the practice, I’m sure it must seem odd.

“Had you known, would you have still run?”

She bites her bottom lip, tears filling her eyes. “I’d like to believe I would have been that brave. But I don’t know. I came here to find freedom and instead...”

“You found yourself bound to six men instead of one.”

She nods, glancing down at our conjoined hands. “When I found out about the Lottery at the intake, I was stuck. If I left, the only place I could go was home. And I couldn’t return knowing how angry everyone would be with me. So, I went along with it and dragged everyone into my mess.”

She covers her face with her free hand and gives a shuddering breath.

Comfort her, my heart demands. Pull her against your chest and let her know you’re there for her.

But something stops me. Fear? Maybe. I haven’t allowed myself to care about anyone in a very long time. It’s scary as hell. Especially, knowing this whole marriage could crash around us at any moment.

I wish we were closer than we are. That I was a man she had already shared herself with. Maybe then I would be able to offer her the sort of comfort I see she needs.

But there’s no way in hell, I’m going to make a move now. Not when she is so fucking on edge.

“I was a coward,” she says in a whisper. “And now Giles is in prison and I’m keeping lies from the other men. I’m not free at all, Salinger. And the worst part is, now I’m caught in my own web of deceit. And there’s no easy way out.”

I can’t help myself. I cup her face in my hand, her tears spilling across her cheeks. My heart aches for her.  And I’m not a heart-aching kind of bastard. I don’t fall hard and fast. Hell, I’ve never been in love at all.

Why love in a world that is so damn bleak? But holding Tia’s face in my hands now, I can see why love exists, even when most women don’t. She is close enough to kiss, and I imagine my lips against hers. They are so soft and full and lawfully mine. Or at least they were before we learned she lied about who she is. Now I know her lips belong to Lawson.

Shit, the others are going to be furious when they find out.

“Hey.” I lean my forehead against hers, steadying my breath. “All good things take time, isn’t that what they say?”

She wipes her eyes, trying to gather her emotions. “Maybe that’s true for some people, but I don’t know that we have time, Salinger.”

My gut lurches, because I have a bad feeling she’s right.