HAPTER 12
Once I stepped out the elevator doors and onto the twentieth floor, I knew something was up. The twentieth floor of the northern side of The Arch was like a shopping mall within The Arch, with a wide corridor bisecting all the stores and an elevator bay on one end. Immediately upon my arrival, a group of about a dozen women waiting in the bay made some sort of a collective gasp. Then collectively fell silent, and began speaking in hushed, yet excited, tones. Strolling by them on my way to the shopping corridor, trying to act casual, even though I felt a bit self-conscious, I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but I did make out one word said repeatedly: her. And then, just after I’d entered the corridor with the group of women behind me, I was able to clearly hear one of them hissing in a stage whisper.
“Yes, it’s really her! That’s Vivian Mason.”
Now I couldn’t help but feel fully ruffled, not knowing exactly why she was of such special significance on this particular day. I’d attracted attention while out and about in The Arch before, sure, but not quite on this level. Though I was soon to find out just exactly why.
Being that it was a Saturday, the mall was packed. It was one of the few places in The Arch that regular, non-UFS-affiliated, non-Arch resident citizens of the city could go, so really, this was as “out in public” as I could ever go without leaving The Arch itself. And after the scene at the elevator bay, it really felt like it. As I darted into a clothing boutique, I wished I’d taken the time to do something with my hair other than just pull it back in a ponytail.
After a few quick minutes spent browsing, during which time a small crowd entered the boutique, seeming to be watching me, I found a pale yellow, cap-sleeved spring top I liked and was reasonably sure would fit me, and I brought it up to the cash register. A smiling older woman with snow-white hair and bright blue eyes rang me up, and it was only then, idiotically, that I reached a hand in my purse and realized that I didn’t have any money. I didn’t even have a wallet.
I looked up at the blue-eyed woman, face flaming. “I’m so sorry. I-I don’t have any money, or credit cards, or anything on me. I guess I-I didn’t think this shopping trip through very well.”
That was for sure. I didn’t even know what kind of currency was even used in the United Free States. I was sure it wasn’t American dollar bills anymore, not that I even had any of those, anyway.
But the smiling, blue-eyed woman just smiled even bigger, handing me my bag. “Your purchase will be billed to Commander Wallace, of course. As I would guess all your purchases will be for the rest of your life.”
I took the bag, cheeks cooling a degree. “Oh.”
Next I ducked into a jewelry and accessories store, with the small crowd of other shoppers still seeming to follow me, though they kept a fair distance away. Feeling funny, and about more than one thing, I perused a few of the different racks and display cases in the store, quickly deciding on a trio of thin, silver-plated bangle bracelets, each of them engraved with a different, intricate design. By the time I brought them up to the two young women at the cash register, some of the people in the crowd milling around the store had gone from casting furtive glances at me to outright staring. Even though loud pop music was playing in the store, I could still pick up a hum of excited conversation from the people who were now staring. My face, which hadn’t really cooled much since I’d left the clothing boutique, was now in full flames again.
Managing a smile, I handed the bracelets to the older of the two young women, who looked to be about twenty, maybe. The younger of the two was really more of a girl than a young woman; she couldn’t have been much older than twelve or thirteen, far too young to be a salesclerk, I would have thought. With a smattering of freckles across her tiny, pert nose, she surveyed me, wide-eyed, while the older clerk rang me up. And after a long moment or two, she spoke.
“It’s true what everyone says. You’re super pretty.”
I gave the young girl a smile, embarrassed, but pleased at the same time. “Well, you’re kind to say that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Hey, what kind of shampoo do you use? And what kind of lip gloss? I like how your lips are so shiny and pink. What exact shade of pink is your lip gloss?”
Pulling a printed receipt out of the cash register, the older salesclerk shot the much younger one a clear warning look, but I didn’t mind answering the question.
“Well, I actually just wear a dab of clear petroleum jelly on my lips most of the time.”
The freckled girl leaned across the counter, chin on fists. “Oh. Well, what shade and brand is your eyeshadow? That’s pretty awesome, too.”
“Well, the brand, I’m not sure, but I think the shade is called ‘toasty taupe.’”
“Sweet. I’m gonna buy some.”
The girl paused, and I thought she was done with her questioning. I thought she was.
“Is it true that you’re pregnant with Commander Wallace’s baby already?”
Shocked into some sort of a choking fit, I coughed into the crook of my arm while the older salesclerk yanked the younger one aside by the arm.
“You. Stockroom. Now. And if you don’t go, I’ll tell Mom and Dad what you asked Miss Mason.”
“But I just—”
“Now. Or else you’ll never be allowed to come with me to work ever again.”
Frowning, the freckle-nosed girl pulled her arm free from her sister’s, then began backing out of the counter area, toward a room I presumed was the stockroom, giving me a little wave. “Bye. It was nice to meet you, Miss Mason. I’m gonna look for your same kind of cool eyeshadow.”
I’d recovered from my choking fit well enough by this point to give her a little wave in return, saying that it had been nice to meet her, too. I even managed a little smile, still shocked by her intrusive question, but not holding it against her. Whether older preteen or young teen, she was still a child, after all, and I could hardly blame a child for getting a little too carried away and personal with a line of questioning. Her sister, however, could.
After handing me my receipt, saying my purchase would be billed to Commander Wallace, she began apologizing, her creamy ivory skin flushed a fairly bright shade of pink. “Sorry about that. Sorry about her. Her and probably everyone else you’ve come across today. See, it’s just that everyone has been pretty excited about the possibility of Commander Wallace having an heir, and everyone was pretty buzzed up when you survived your thawing, and then everyone heard about how you saved Celeste Williams from being attacked by Drago Stone yesterday, and it just made everyone kind of... crazier about you than everyone even was before, even though not many people have really even met you yet, and so...”
The young woman paused to blow her bangs off her forehead. “I don’t know. It just seems like everyone’s really gotten ‘heir fever’ and ‘Vivian Mason fever’ all of a sudden. I know it must be weird for you, and I’m really sorry if my little sister just made it even weirder. That was so unbelievably rude of her.”
After I’d assured the young woman that I’d surely live, and even found her little sister charming, making her smile, she grabbed a pair of large black sunglasses from a counter-top rack by the cash register and handed them to me. “Here. On the house. Maybe you could try wearing them shopping if you want to try to disguise yourself, because something just tells me you might be getting the ‘rock star’ treatment all day, and probably even forever.”
I smiled, putting the sunglasses on. “Thank you. I think I’ll definitely use these.” I then reached into my shopping bag, pulled out two of the three silver bangle bracelets, and handed them to her. “One for you, and one for your sister. Tell your sister that this is so she and I can match.”
I soon exited the store wearing my sunglasses, about five dozen people trailing behind me. I didn’t go to any more stores. I boarded an elevator at the mall, then transferred to one of the private, guarded elevators, which took me back up to my apartment. I’d had enough “rock star” treatment for the day, though that wasn’t even the main thing that had made me feel funny. The “rock star” treatment I was sure would fade in time if I continued living in D.C., and if it didn’t, I was sure I’d grow used to it. But the main thing that had made me feel funny during my shopping trip had been the whole charge-it-to-Commander-Wallace’s-account thing.
I wouldn’t have minded it, would have probably even thoroughly appreciated it, if the two of us were married, or engaged, or in a very long-term, committed relationship. But as it was, with us not being in any of those relationships, it had just felt wrong, no other way to put it. I’d almost felt like some kind of a high-priced “kept woman,” although in my case, I was really much more of a “kept womb,” as bizarre as that sounded, even to me as I thought it in my head.
I knew Jackson wouldn’t want me to feel that way, and I knew it wasn’t his intent for me to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it. I still did. I really didn’t know who wouldn’t.
Now, after my experience shopping, I really wanted to talk to Celeste. But when I called Irene at the hospital to ask how she was feeling, and if she’d been discharged yet, Irene said that she just had been, and that she was doing just fine, but that she’d asked to be alone for the rest of the day.
“If I’m reading my granddaughter right, and I think I am, I think she’s just licking a few wounds from almost being killed by that nasty Drago Stone. She’s just upset that she couldn’t fight him off, like one of the men could do. Or, well like you did for that matter! Though I know she’s not upset with you, specifically, for what you did, just grateful. She’s just mad at herself and the world, I think. But don’t worry; we’ll just give her a day or two of alone time, and she’ll come around. I’m sure she’ll be trying to rope you into another crazy scheme of hers in no time.”
I spent the rest of the day alone in my apartment, cleaning, and then later, cooking dinner and cleaning up from that. A personal chef and a maid had been offered to me, but I’d politely declined. Having people wait on me hand-and-foot just wasn’t my style. And besides, I honestly enjoyed cooking. Housework a little less so, but I didn’t hate it.
When Jackson hadn’t called me to check in by ten or so, like I’d thought he possibly might, I went to bed, surprisingly disappointed. Grouchy, even. And maybe it was this bad mood that carried over into my sleep, because around midnight, I was awoken from some vague-yet-terrifying nightmare by the feel of hands around my throat, squeezing.
For a second or two, the sensation and feeling of pressure felt incredibly real. I was sure someone had broken into my apartment and was trying to strangle me. But as I clutched at my throat, flying up to a sitting position, I realized that no one was even touching me. After flicking on the bedside table lamp, gasping for breath, I saw that no one was even in the room. It had just been a bad dream. As my heart rate slowly began returning to normal, I realized that the dream had, at one point, been my reality.
Breathless and slightly nauseated, I flicked off the light and got back under the silk-lined spring blanket covering my bed, recalling a time when Drago, or Dan, as he’d been back then, had choked me. He’d wrapped both hands around my throat and had squeezed with steady, unrelenting pressure, just how I’d felt in my dream. He’d only finally released me when I’d begun seeing stars, on the verge of blacking out.
I couldn’t fall back asleep. Eventually, after maybe twenty minutes, I got out of bed, grabbed my phone, and padded out to the living room to have a seat on the French blue couch. I sat in the dim light of a single lamp for a while, debating whether or not to call Jackson. I wanted to talk to him, but I wasn’t exactly sure what to say. Calling him just to say I had a nightmare seemed a bit childish.
When the grandfather clock in the wider area of the living room, the part of it I’d come to think of as the “formal living room,” chimed half past the hour, I pulled up Jackson’s and my text thread, wondering if I should just text him. But ultimately, after a few moments looking at the text I’d sent earlier that day, still in disbelief that I’d accidentally sent it, I decided not to. I couldn’t see what the point would be to alert him via text that I’d had a nightmare.
Now, on the couch, I was finally getting sleepy again, yawning uncontrollably, and I figured I’d just try to go back to sleep just where I was. Pulling a throw blanket over myself, I let my phone slip from my fingers and fall to an area rug on the marble floor, and soon I was fast asleep, having no idea the situation I would be in when I did awaken.
*
After what felt like only a few minutes of sleep, I awoke to the sound of Jackson’s voice coming from somewhere nearby.
“Are you still awake, Vivian? I got down here as fast as I could.”
I opened my eyes, seeing that it wasn’t anywhere near morning yet. The living room was still dark, lit only by the single small lamp. With his dark hair tousled, as if he’d been recently sleeping himself, Jackson was sitting on the floor next to the couch, running a hand over my hair.
“I wanted to watch you sleep a while longer, because you look so unbelievably gorgeous when you’re asleep—as you do when you’re awake—but I also didn’t want to be a creep. Thought I’d better check to see if you were just dozing, or if you’d somehow managed to become knocked out cold in the five minutes since you texted.”
Thoroughly mystified, I slowly sat up, willing my brain to work. “What are you talking about? I didn’t text you five minutes ago.”
“Well, you had to have.”
“But I didn’t. I was thinking about it, but... I didn’t.”
“But you did, though. Unless you have a ghost in your phone.”
“Well, what did the text say?”
With a deepening frown, Jackson pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked the screen, and showed me the text I’d supposedly sent. It said I need to touch you, same as the text I’d sent him that morning. But the time stamp on this text was twelve thirty-one am.
I shook my head, miles beyond confused. “No. This text was from this morning.”
“Well, the time stamp doesn’t lie. You sent me the same thing again. And if I didn’t know you better, I might think you were trying to toy with me. If I didn’t know you better, considering that you know how physically near-irresistible I find you, I might think you were just trying to tease me.”
His expression was one of such genuine disappointment and something that actually resembled real hurt that it struck me as almost comical for some reason, though I knew I was surely evil for thinking so. But I burst into laughter, nonetheless. I couldn’t help it.
Jackson’s disappointed, hurt expression became even more pronounced, but only for a second.
Then he sighed, raking a hand through his thick, sleep-mussed hair, his expression turning to one of exasperation. “So, this was just another genuine false alarm, then?”
I nodded, trying to get a handle on my laughter. “I’m so sorry, Jackson. I really am.”
Despite my mirth, I really was.
“I just came out here to sleep on the couch because I had a nightmare, and I was debating whether to call or text you just to talk, so I had our text thread open, but then I decided against it, and I let the phone slip through my fingers when I started to fall asleep again. All I can think of is that I must have hit ‘forward message’ or ‘resend’ when I was dropping the phone. It’s really a very sensitive touch screen.”
Still looking exasperated, Jackson didn’t respond. He just raked a hand through his hair again.
Feeling uncontrollable laughter bubbling up inside me once again and feeling terrible about it, I patted the spot next to me on the couch. “Here. Sit next to me. Please.”
He did so, seemingly a bit reluctantly, grumbling. “Anyone else... Anyone else getting the commander-in-chief of this entire nation out of bed just for an accidental text—an accidental resend of an accidental text—anyone but you....”
His words brought on a giggle fit from me, which he just suffered through, looking straight ahead, periodically heaving a sigh. Which only made me laugh harder. Which made me feel downright villainous, though at the same time, I still couldn’t stop myself. Though eventually, maybe after a solid minute, at least, I finally managed to rein it in. And Jackson finally turned his gaze to my face.
“You’re an exceptionally naughty young woman, Vivian. You’re an extraordinarily naughty young woman.”
I fought hard not to giggle again. “Am I?”
“Without a doubt. Now lay your head down on my shoulder like a good naughty young woman, before I have you court martialed.”
Snuggling up against him, I did as I was told, willing not one more single peep of laughter to come out of my mouth, even though an additional peep or two definitely wanted to. “First, ‘good naughty young woman’ is a little oxymoronic, don’t you think? And second, you can’t have me court martialed, because I’m not a member of your military.”
“I’ll find some loophole. I’ll find some way to make sure you’re cruelly punished for your very naughty giggling.”
The gentle stroking of his hand over my hair said otherwise. Amused again, though not to the point of having to fight laughter, I twined my fingers with the fingers of his free hand, and we both fell silent.
Under the soothing, rhythmic caresses of Jackson’s hand, I’d almost fallen asleep again a minute or so later when he spoke again, voice low.
“I have to admit, this has been a bit of a disappointing day for me in the romance department.”
I didn’t respond right away, thinking. “So, you consider physical intimacy between us to be the ‘romance’ department? Not just the ‘business’ department, or the ‘pure lust’ department?”
“Yes. Of course. And maybe I didn’t think this would be the case at first, but, yes. I consider all physical intimacy between us to definitely fall under the ‘romance’ department.”
I liked how he’d responded so quickly, as if he hadn’t even had to think about his response.
“Although, if I’m being completely honest, at the same time, I sometimes I feel as if I could very well be driven nearly insane by lust for you.”
I liked this response, too.
“Which has made your text shenanigans of today all the more frustrating, to be completely honest again.”
“Shenanigans. I like that word. Please remember that in the future and say it more.”
“The young woman thought her text shenanigans were all fun and games until she suddenly found herself facing a court martial.”
I laughed for what felt like the hundredth time, but this time, not uncontrollably; his time, it was more like a very pronounced ha ha. “Funny. Hysterical, actually, Jackson.”
We both fell silent once more, and he continued stroking my hair, caressing me into drowsiness. When he spoke again a short while later, it was in a voice just as gentle and soothing as his hand, and a voice without even the faintest trace of levity.
“Tell me what you had a nightmare about.”
I didn’t answer right away. I’d forgotten about my nightmare, and now I wished I could forget it forever.
“It was Drago, or Dan, or whoever he was back then. I had a hazy sort of nightmare that I think was about him, and when I came out of it, I felt like someone was strangling me with their hands around my throat. And then I remembered that Dan used to do that. He choked me once until I almost blacked out. I thought I was going to die.”
With my head on his shoulder, I could hear Jackson’s breathing accelerate noticeably. And as tightly tucked into the side of his body as I was, I could feel his entire form stiffening, as if every muscle from his head to his toes had tensed. He’d also stopped smoothing my hair.
But he didn’t say anything, though. And whatever emotion had seemed to grip him, he recovered quickly from it, his body relaxing. Then, surprising me, he just pulled me onto his lap in one quick, smooth motion, displaying his shifter strength, and held me tightly against his chest, face buried in my hair.
After several moments, he planted a line of slow, tender kisses across the side of my face, then resumed very slowly stroking my hair, planting a few more kisses on the top of my head while he did so. Growing drowsier, I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his muscles beneath the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. And within a minute or two, I was fast asleep.
When I awoke however long later, I was tucked under the covers in bed, and sunlight was streaming in through my bedroom windows. I knew Jackson must have carried me to bed at some point during the night, but to my disappointment, he wasn’t with me anymore. I realized I desperately wanted him to be.
After I’d showered and dressed, it was a quarter after ten, and I left my apartment, intending to go down to a cafe on one of the lower levels of The Arch, pick up some brunch, and then bring it to Celeste’s and see if she was ready for any company. I didn’t get very far out of my apartment, however. I actually only made it to the door mat out in the hall.
I’d stopped there because I’d noticed the corner of a large white envelope sticking out from under the mat. I picked it up and read a note written on the back, which read: Sleeping beauty, Considering how extraordinarily naughty you were last night with your giggling, I’m not quite sure if you deserve these, but I wanted to give them to you anyway. Affectionately, though still actively planning your court martial, Jackson.
I traced a finger over a line of his bold, heavy-stroked, masculine scrawl with an ache in my chest. Somehow, I just knew that whatever was in the envelope was going to break my heart, yet somehow fix it all at the same time, and I was right.