Chaos Theory Page 17

  What would my peers think of me that I could be felled by a boy and his drugged drink? I would be a laughingstock—even more than I already was.

  I needed to leave. I needed to escape. I slowly got to my feet to walk away, but one foot almost immediately tripped over the other, spilling me into Nickolai’s arms before I could crack my face on the floor. I wanted to shove against him, but instead I heard myself begging him to let me die.

  Then Jack came over to me, pressed two fingers to the side of my neck, and I begged no more.

  18

  When I came back to consciousness, I heard the sound of voices outside the bedroom, low enough I could only make out it was a male and female voice, suddenly terrified the queen had discovered my failure and had come to bring me home.

  Glancing around, I saw I was propped up against a mountain of pillows, clean and dressed in another of Nickolai’s T-shirts. I tried not to think about who had washed me while I was unconscious, wondering instead how I was going to play this.

  “Then lucky she won’t remember a goddamn thing in the morning, isn’t it?”

  But I remembered everything—flashes of the night playing over and over in my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling of Braydon’s hands on my body, the way he’d sneered with my body pressed against the building, me powerless to stop him.

  All this pain… for what? To prove a point to Nickolai? To prove some sort of point to myself?

  Pulling back the covers, I swung my legs slowly out of bed and stood, testing my strength before taking a gingerly step toward the door. The voices outside had died down; however, I could make out the sound of Nickolai’s footfalls on the hardwood floor.

  I gave myself a minute, hoping to get some relief from the drumming in my head before I twisted the handle of the door, opening it ever so slightly to sneak a peek outside. Nickolai stood with his back to me, his reflection in the window somber as he stared out into the night. Stubble caressed the curve of his mouth and chin, his shoulders were hunched, and his entire body looked as tense as mine did.

  Maybe I shouldn’t interrupt him… maybe he was angry with me for being so bloody stupid.

  “All I know is every time I think about you, I want to be with you.”

  By Eve, the things he’d said to me… the things I’d said to him! I needed to dial it back, to rebuild the wall that was slowly crumbling between us and remind myself that, one day, he would be king of all vampires… and I would have to stand by and watch him find his queen.

  I must have sucked in a breath, because Nickolai spun around so fast I felt dizzy—or maybe I was already dizzy.

  “You’re awake.”

  “Yeah.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, and I shifted uncomfortably, taking a step outside the bedroom to go in search of water. My mouth felt like I’d taken a trip to the Sahara.

  The minute I took a step, Nickolai moved with me. I snarled, already feeling foolish without wanting to show more weakness in front of him. He ignored me, pointing at the couch as he went to get a bottle of water. Once he was sure I had made it safety to the couch, he handed the water to me.

  “I heard voices.”

  Scratching his chin, Nickolai leaned back in the chair, resting a foot on the coffee table. “Krista came to check on you. You had a lot of people worried.”

  I didn’t respond, simply uncapped the water and took a hesitant sip, remembering the sheer volume I’d managed to vomit up. Vampires rarely got sick, the most extreme cases of sickness happening during pregnancy. Sometimes, if we drank tainted blood, it could make us ill for a time, but I supposed ingesting a copious number of drugs would make any supernatural creature upchuck all over the carpet.

  “I know you probably have regret—”

  “I regret nothing,” I snapped. I didn’t know why I was snapping at him, but here I was making even more stupid decisions.

  “Is that because you don’t remember what you’re supposed to regret?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, not wanting to answer that question because I would dig myself an even bigger hole if I admitted I remembered. I wanted to forget; I wished I didn’t remember… I wished I could go back.

  I must have spaced out for a moment, because I didn’t realize Nickolai had moved to sit next to me until I felt his fingers graze the side of my neck. I jerked, recalling how Braydon had traced his tongue up the curve of my throat, and quickly got to my feet, my face in my hands as I tried to remain calm.

  When I braved a glance at Nickolai, the prince looked aghast his touch had incited such a reaction from me. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him, that it was a memory, but even though I suspected he knew, I wasn’t telling the truth about remembering.

  He had cared for me when I couldn’t look after myself—I owed him even just a scrap.

  “He… he…” I stumbled over the words and snarled at myself, frustrated I was letting this jackass win.

  “Ry, stop… you don’t have to explain.”

  “I do! I really fucking do,” I barked. “He licked my neck, where you touched, and I remembered, okay? It wasn’t you; it was me.”

  I dropped my head to stare at the ground, my face heating with embarrassment as Nickolai lifted my face to look at him. He held my gaze for about a minute, refusing to let me look away, using his dominance to make me comply.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I want to beat him to death. I want to make him suffer. Ask me to do it, and I will bring you his head in a box.”

  I opened my mouth to speak as the elevator opened and Jack stepped inside, relief on his face as he studied me. I kept my hands by my side as he embraced me.

  “You okay, kiddo?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I ground out, anger bubbling inside me. My body tensed; I felt as if I’d just proven I was less than the males of my species—that, I, Ryan Callan, had just given them all a reason to go back and change the laws to forbid women from joining the guard. I had failed my parents. I had failed myself.

  As if to prove just how pathetic I was, tears flowed from my eyes, earning me a look of pity from Nickolai and a look of horror from Jack. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone since the day Jack pulled me away from the dead bodies of my parents—and last night didn’t count because I wasn’t exactly in my right mind.

  Was I in my right mind now?

  “Hey Nickolai, you mind giving me and Ryan a few minutes? I ordered some takeout and it should be here soon.”

  Nickolai glanced at me as if he were waiting for permission. I growled, turning to face the window, folding my arms across my chest. I didn’t so much as exhale a breath until Nickolai was gone, leaving Jack and me alone.

  “When do we leave?” I croaked, my throat still raw.

  “Why, kiddo, where are we going?”

  Slowly I turned to face the vampire, lifting my chin to glare at him. “No games, Jack. No bullshit. When am I being hauled off to face the queen for my indiscretion? I assume I failed my test. I won’t become a member of the Royal Guard. I’ve let them down.”

  Jack didn’t reply as he wandered into the kitchen and took two bottles of blood from the fridge. He tried handing one to me when he returned, but I didn’t think I could stomach it. He then proceeded to sit down on a chair and asked me to do the same.

  After a brief hesitation, I followed his lead and sat down, setting my full bottle down in front of me. Tucking my legs under me, I leaned my head against the back of the couch and waited for Jack to tell me how much I’d fucked up.

  “Ryan, the queen knows nothing about what happened on Sunday. Nickolai hasn’t said a thing to anyone but me, and I haven’t even told Atticus because it’s not my story to tell. The only reason I know what happened is because Nickolai freaked out and called me in. I’ve never seen the boy lose his cool like that. I think, if he hadn’t had you to worry about, he’d have had a grand ole time ripping that asshole apart.”

  I blinked rapidly. “So, I’m not going back?”

 
“Not just yet anyway.”

  I reached for the bottle of blood, opened it, and took a small sip. Suddenly, hunger roared inside me, wanting me to sink my teeth into real flesh, feel the pulse of life on my lips as I drank. My stomach rumbled loudly.

  Jack laughed. “I asked for a Child of Eve to pay a visit tomorrow. We need to get you some solid food first. I ordered some rice and veg, just to give you a baseline.”

  I scrunched up my face, and Jack’s laugh deepened. “Don’t knock it, kiddo. Back in the day, when Tristan and I used to go on some benders, I mean, we drank so much that last night would have looked like a normal night. We pushed the limits of our bodies when we were young and foolish.”

  Jack’s face softened, even as my heart constricted, and I think for the first time I realized I was not the only one who missed my parents. Jack had been like a brother to my father; the queen a sister to my mother.

  Was I wrong to be selfish in my grief?

  “But Tristan never failed to awaken the next night,” Jack continued, “a grin on his charming face and ready to tuck into a plate of rice and veg. He’d be fitting fit soon after.”

  Smiling faintly, I played with the ends of Nickolai’s tee. “What was he like, my dad, when he was my age?”

  “You know the kind of man your da was.”

  “I know what kind of warrior he was. I know how he was the best dad in the world. Everyone tells me that I look so much like my mom it hurts. Am I like him at all?” I wanted to be like him so much I hated to admit it.

  “Tristan could be serious with those who didn’t know him—until he met your ma, that is. He wanted to be the best, but he had a wicked sense of humor. He made me a better vampire, and every goddamn day I see traits of him in you.”

  “Please don’t lie to me, Jack. Not today.”

  Jack set his empty bottle down on the table. “I’d never lie to you, Ryan. You might be stubborn like your mother, but Tristan could be hella stubborn, too. He never gave an inch if he thought he was right. He loved you with a fierceness I’d never seen before. I knew your da better than anyone save your mother. You might have your mother’s grace and beauty, but that steel in your spine that keeps you going? That’s all Tristan, kiddo.”

  The whir of the elevator shattered the little bit of peace I’d found talking with Jack. He rose, even as I remained seated, coming over to drop a kiss on my forehead, lingering for a second or two before he smiled down at me.

  “Tristan was the best vampire I’ve ever known. He gave me great advice once, and I’m gonna share it with you: If the path you travel demands you walk through hell, Ryan, then walk as if you own the place.”

  My father’s words, said to me by the closest thing to family I had left, spoken in the same lilting tone, cracked a smile on my face. As Nickolai came in, I said to Jack tenderly, “He told me once, not long before he… well, I’d had a fight with some of the girls who told me I was stuck up and spoiled, training with the prince who couldn’t even fight because he would be king. I punched Farrah and broke her nose. I thought my dad would be angry with me, but he sat me in his lap and said the same thing to me.”

  Nickolai ignored us as he went about fixing plates for each of us.

  Jack patted me on the head. “Well, let me share one last bit of advice with you. Will you humor an old man and listen?”

  I let loose a snort, rolling my eyes as Jack crouched down, leaning in to say the words discreetly, even though we both knew every single vampire in this apartment could hear.

  “Please stop destroying what’s left of your heart by constantly thinking about things that should have broken you.”

  Before I could even manage a response, Jack rose, bid farewell to Nickolai, and left the two of us alone, the weight of Jack’s words heavy on my heart. I closed my eyes, my head still resting on the back of the couch as I felt the seat cushion shift, Nickolai sitting down beside me. After what had happened earlier, I expected him to sit as far away from me as possible, but I’d forgotten this was Nickolai, and he never gave up on anything.

  Two weeks after my parents’ funeral, Nickolai was hammering on my door trying to get me to come out. I hadn’t spoken to anyone for almost two weeks, barricading myself inside with all of my parent’s belongings, as if somehow, I could summon them back from Eve’s garden.

  “Ryan Skye Callan, open this door right now. As your liege, I am ordering you to do so.”

  “Go away, My Liege,” I yelled back, muttering a word in Russian that I had heard my Uncle Jack mutter many a time, before I could halt my words. I wasn’t afraid I’d sworn at the prince—I did that a lot—but I’d spoken to him, encouraged him, and he would be relentless now.

  The sound of a drill snapped me into action. I stormed over to cast the door open, revealing my best friend grinning on the other side. His blond hair curled under his ears, sticking out in a very unprincelike manor.

  “Go away, Nicky.”

  His cerulean-colored eyes twinkled with mischief. “Not going to happen,” he said, and proceeded to flop down on my bed, setting a bag of my favorite popcorn and a tub of ice-cream in front of him. When he pulled a spoon from his pocket, I sighed, closing the door behind me before joining him on the bed.

  Flicking on the TV, Nickolai began to play a movie I loved, telling me if I ever told anyone he’d watched a romcom with me, then he’d cut my hair.

  I laughed, a strange sound ringing in my ears.

  I blinked my eyes open, casting the memory aside as Nickolai handed me a small plate of rice and veg. My appetite was shot, but Nickolai continued to watch me until I managed a mouthful. The flavors seemed to burst in my mouth, and the next thing I knew, I’d demolished the plateful, washing it down with a little blood.

  I set my plate down and reached for the remote as I gave Nickolai a friendly smile, the poor vampire looking shocked when I asked, “Fancy watching a movie?”

  Setting down his own plate, he balanced his feet on the edge of the coffee table. “Sure.”

  The massive TV on the wall was equipped with the latest technology, embedded with every movie or TV show imaginable. In a short few years, the streaming platforms had changed drastically. Even in America, a protype had been launched where a chip inside one’s ocular nerve meant you could access shows and stuff right to your mind.

  Crazy right?

  Smiling, feeling a little fragile and a little nostalgic as well, I found the movie we had watched that night, making a sudden, terrifying decision as the movie started. Sliding across the couch, I curled into Nickolai’s side, resting my head in the crook of his arm. His body tensed, and I drew back immediately, mortified.

  Nickolai wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me back into him as he muttered, “I can’t believe you’re making me watch this again.”

  “Shh… let me ogle Shane West in peace. Just don’t start crying like you did the first time around.”

  With a soft chortle, Nickolai dimmed the lights, and we simply sat there, watching the movie until the credits ran and my eyes burned from tiredness. Even though I knew sitting in the dark, cozied up to Nickolai, was not in either of our best interests, I couldn’t help myself, feeling raw from everything that had happened. Every single emotion I’d suppressed was beginning to resurface, no longer content to hide.

  “I knew this girl once,” Nickolai began, his breath warm against my skin. “And she was the fiercest person I knew. On the outside, she had this tough exterior, but I saw through that. She might have been a badass, but she had this infectious energy.”

  “What happened to her?” I asked, my heart racing.

  “Something terrible happened, and I lost her sort of. She was there but she wasn’t.”

  After a moment, I asked, “Do you miss her?” my voice a ghost of a whisper.

  Nickolai said nothing for a minute, then said, “All the goddamn time.”

  In four words, he broke my heart, even when I thought it couldn’t be broken any more. I knew in if I tilted my h
ead up, Nickolai would press his lips to mine, changing the entire nature of our friendship. My mind played over what Jack had said to me earlier, to not destroy what was left of my heart by thinking of all the things that should have broken me. But to lose Nickolai, if I let myself go there, would rip me heart to shreds even if he were still standing next to me. Once the crown was on his head, there could be no us.

  And I wasn’t about to let that happen to me.

  Darting upright, I faced away from Nickolai, using the steel in my spine to blurt out, “I know you don’t know where you stand with me, but I do care about you, Nickolai—more than I want to, if I’m honest. I can’t hate you, no matter how hard I try. I didn’t forget you or erase you when they died, I just can’t bear to lose someone else. I won’t survive it.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t remember,” Nickolai replied quietly.

  I spun to face him, blinking as I realized my mistake.

  Nickolai gave me a slow, deliberate smile as he mouthed, “Liar.”

  He laughed then, the sound of it like destruction and chaos.

  Well, fuck.

  19

  Braydon Smyth was dead.

  I knew that for absolute certainty for two reasons:

  One—Nickolai was watching the news report intently as I emerged from the bedroom, the look on his face a mask of indifference as the journalist squirmed, visibly ill as she described the grim murder. The former sports star had been gutted, mutilated, and staged outside his fraternity house.

  Two—Braydon Smyth’s head sat in a neatly wrapped giftbox on the kitchen counter. Blood soaked the bottom of the parcel, and terror was written all over the guy’s face in the moment of his death.

  Accompanying the head was a brief little love letter from our resident rogue, explaining that Braydon had died for daring to touch me, for daring, as he put it, to try and rip the wings off such a transcendent butterfly.

  I’d be impressed at the poetry of it if the wide-eyed head of my attempted rapist weren’t making a wonderful centerpiece on the counter.