Chapter Thirteen
Kadelyn
The night played over and over in my head. The look on Zawara’s face, betrayal, broken, hurt. It all twirled around my mind like a dagger. I woke up in the night thinking of it with a sinking pit of guilt in my stomach.
But that was it. It was over. He betrayed us, just like everyone said he would, and I was just the idiot—too blinded to see the truth. That was not someone I wanted to be.
I spent a week licking my wounds, staying cooped up in my room. My parents barely spoke to me, but I didn’t hold it against them. I didn’t make up in my mind that they were on Libby’s side. Or maybe they were.
I just knew they just didn’t know what to say to me, and that was fair enough because I didn’t know what to say to them, either.
In my sadness, I avoided council meetings and other parties, some of our people had been found. Two, to be exact. They were returned safely to us, and yet another celebration was hosted for the people while our leaders took a step back, consulting on one another how to protect our people, how to defeat the Kilari… how to take our planet back.
It wasn’t until the week was up that I decided to come out of hiding. There was a birth happening; Tessoul and Sidney were having another. Their third child.
I was invited to the birth since my mother was close with Sidney. The birth took place at their private residence, a small brownstone at the west end of the village. Their home looked no different than anyone else’s. It was modest, small, but had a little pond in the front yard that you had to step over a dirt bridge to get across.
A small number of people gathered in the room, a handful at most, with the midwife and some close friends. Libby was unsurprisingly absent from the event.
“Are you ready to start pushing, sweetheart?” the midwife asked Sidney.
“You got this,” Tessoul breathed into her ear, holding her hand so hard that both their fingers turned white.
“Yeah, thanks,” Sidney said back sarcastically. “Not like I haven’t done this before.”
“We’re pros now,” Tessoul teased the midwife, and she laughed.
Sidney looked up at her chosen and cocked a silly brow. He smirked guiltily and corrected, “She’s the pro. I’m just… really good at standing here, apparently.”
The room laughed, and Sidney began to push. I watched, half fascinated, half horrified that we were all standing around, watching this woman push out a life. It was supposed to be a morale thing, I knew, but I was sort of disgusted by it.
This went on for some time, but not nearly as long as I thought it would.
Sidney’s long red hair strung down in waves, moving only when she forced her head back into the pillow behind her for some sort of relief. I watched the way Tessoul brushed his hand through it, the way he watched her, and I felt suddenly irrationally angry. There was no quelling me.
Jealousy sprung up in my soul. Then suddenly the room erupted with a child’s cries.
The midwife rushed to bring the baby up, cleaning it and clearing its nose and throat, and then the little life let out some more gentle cries.
I rushed to the front of the room, pushing past my own mother to get a true glimpse of it. My heart stopped, my whole body going cold as I looked down at the little baby. Half human, half Vithohn. It had a tuft of red hair, face showered with freckles, and two army marks on its cheeks that glowed green, just like Tessoul.
The baby had little horns, fingernail crooks sprouting from her temples that would no doubt travel behind her head as it grew.
“It’s a girl!” the midwife announced before setting the child down on Sidney’s sweaty chest.
Sidney held her breath for a minute and then nodded, looking up at Tessoul with an impish face full of love. She burst into a small sob, her pale face going hot red.
Then I watched as he brushed his fingers along her cheek and I knew I had to get the hell out of there.
I congratulated the happy couple, turning down the chance to hold the newborn—too jealous to put my own feelings aside.
My mind reeled, sad and sick.
I sat in my room the rest of the day, sipping drink after drink, bleary-eyed and yet endlessly awake.
I walked out of the house in a white nightdress, feeling the rain pitter-patter against my body. My dress clung to me, and I pulled it away. I was barefoot as I walked across our camp, unsure where to go.
It wasn’t even like I had my sister anymore; I didn’t truly have friends, none that I ever had a deep connection with. My parents didn’t know what to do with me. I was a lost cause, again. And there was only one place I could think to go.
My feet directed me toward the ship. I crawled up the wooden ladder that was fastened to the side of it, and I hoisted myself up. My hand hovered over the handle that led to Nevir’s room, wondering what I might find in there. Him with a woman, naked and writhing, making me feel even lonelier than I did now.
I could have knocked, but I didn’t. I just wanted something familiar. And what was familiar to me was to walk in.
Luckily, he was alone.
The room was stormy and dark, with just candlelight illuminating the shapes.
“Drink?” he asked with a familiar smile.
“If you wish me to be violently ill tomorrow,” I offered, slurred.
He chuckled. “Is that a trick question?”
I let out a long, slow exhale and nodded, knowing I’d already had enough. “Gimme,” I said.
He poured his favorite peach brandy into a glass and handed it to me. The liquid was only poured a finger thick in the glass. He knew I’d been drinking, obviously.
I ran my hand through my black hair, pulling it back as though I were going to tie it with a ponytail and then let it fall back, long and thick, but windbitten and wet.
“It’s been a day,” I said, staring down at the liquid, but not drinking any.
“I bet,” he said, raising his glass to the air and then slurping back the liquid.
“No cards today?” I mocked, looking down at his surprisingly clear desk.
He shook his head.
Nevir sat in his favorite chair, legs spread in that way that males somehow feel the need to do. He wore black pants and no shirt, like always. Armored on the bottom, vulnerable on the top.
I liked Vithohn armor. The look of it was professional, polished and somehow sexy. I liked knowing that they were protected and sturdy, like real men. Or, at least, the ones in our camp were.
My brows raised in uncharacteristic kindness and I pursed my lips, unsure what I was doing or what I really wanted to say to Nevir.
“You were at the birth today?” he asked, nearly reading my thoughts.
I nodded.
“Hell of a thing,” he said.
“Have you ever seen one?” I asked, and he nodded. A Vithohn hybrid wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare enough that his admission surprised me. “Really?”
“Weird little things,” he said with a whispered laugh.
“They’re cute,” I argued with a laugh, finally sipping the brandy.
He raised his brows but seemed uninterested in continuing the conversation. “And now you’re upset?”
I chuckled, not meeting his eyes.
“Kidd wants to be a mommy, huh?” he teased in that baby-voice that only ever came out when a cute child or animal crossed someone’s path.
“Dunno,” I said, defensively. “But it was… something to see.”
But he was right. I wanted that. Ever since the birth, my mind kept reeling back to that day in the housing complex after Zawara and I stepped through the transporter. The home we had created together, the little family we could have had in his house. Our house.
I felt sick again.
I wanted something, anything to fill the void.
“And so… you came here?” Nevir asked, his curiosity finally piqued.
“Ah, don’t flatter yourself,” I said. “I just wanted someone to bring me back to reality.”
“I’m good for that,” he laughed, sitting upright. “Children are, number one, for happy couples. Two, they require responsibility—so not you!” He half-teased in a seductive voice. “And three, not something you can do unless you’re shacking up with someone.”
“Fancy that,” I said, toneless.
“And you’re not doing that anymore, right?” he said.
I felt my heartbeat speed up as he set his drink down and looked over at me. “Unless… that’s what you’re doing here?”
“I don’t know,” I blurted out, my voice somewhere between a laugh and a cry.
“Back to her old tricks,” Nevir teased.
The Vithohn stood from his desk, and my eyes followed him from across the room as he walked over to me, kneeling in front of me between my legs. The Vithohn was tall enough that even while crouched he was still taller than me, his face still inches above mine.
Then he breathed, “I’ve missed you.”
“I don’t think so,” I said evenly.
He smirked. “Think again.”
He pulled my chin in his fingers and pulled my faced close to his until our lips pressed together. I opened my eyes, shot them open in shock, in lust and guilt, and then pulled away.
Nevir kept his hand on my back, pushing me into his arms. He stood and picked me up from my chair, carrying me like a little child over to his bed. He lay me down and got on top of me, showering my neck with kisses.
I thought about what we were doing. I wasn’t a loyal person. Ever. I wanted what I wanted, when I wanted it. I screwed over Zake and countless others who I’d been intimately close with, mostly for the opportunity to be with Nevir.
My mind kept saying, why should Zawara be any different, then?
But he was.
Nevir got hard the minute we kissed and kept his erection the whole time. I could feel it up against me as he slid his body on top of mine, both still clothed.
I wanted to grind against it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Nevir moaned, tasting my skin, grabbing my breasts, and then he looked at me, beautiful green eyes. He tilted my head forward and kissed me again, deeper and needy this time.
My lips pulled away from Nevir, and I set my hands on his chest, looking up at him and pretending he was mine and I was his and that everything would be alright.
A part of me still loved him, or wanted to win. I wasn’t sure which. And maybe… just maybe this could all work out between us. It was the only thing I could tell myself to quell the pooling sickness in the pit of my stomach.
“Do you think Rachel will come back?” I asked.
He swallowed, went soft. “What?”
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I burst into tears.
I could hear how stupid I sounded. How needy and ridiculous—how sad and pathetic I was being.
I wanted so badly for her to be dead, for her never to come back and for Nevir to realize he could be happy with me. And then I realized… he hadn’t said he loved me. He said he missed me.
He didn’t love me.
I wasn’t his chosen.
I wasn’t anything to him; a friend, maybe. But nothing he would qualify as special.
All I had ever wanted was to be wanted by Nevir, and I the only way I could remotely get his attention was by falling in love with someone else.
I had a Vithohn, a man who I was crazy about… who called me his chosen. And I was here, with Nevir.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I blurted through my tears like a mantra.
“It’s okay,” he said, hushing me.
“It’s not,” I said, crying.
I realized at that moment what I was asking him to give up. What I had already given up. Hope. Love.
It was then I knew I had to go back for Zawara.