Love and Decay, Kane's Law (9 page)

My father offered me a consoling smile and
said, “I understand the appeal, Son. But is she really the kind of
girl you settle down with? She’s the one you want to claim?”

I hesitated for only a moment. “Yes.”

My father sat back in his chair and looked at
my brother. “What do you think, Miller? Has Kane met his match or
can he break this one like all the others?”

“She’s not a horse,” Miller mumbled through a
swollen mouth, but then his sometimes-wiser-beyond-his-years eyes
met mine and he gave me a one shouldered shrug. “I don’t think
you’re her type.”

For some reason Miller’s opinion started the
fire of bitterness and rage faster than even my father’s comments.
“What do you know? You can’t even go for a walk without getting
beat up.”

“Screw you,” he lisped.

I ran my tongue over the roof of my mouth,
made it push against the back of my top teeth- a soothing habit I
had since I was little. I shoved my hands into my pockets and
focused on all of Miller’s already inflicted injuries. He didn’t
need me to hurt him more.

Although, I could. Easily.

“Kane, are you getting upset at something
Miller said?” my father sounded so incredulous, shame flushed
through me, hot and acidic. “What does he know about women?” He
snorted and shook his head at me. “It doesn’t matter what her
type
is, you’re the man that picked her. So, she’s a
challenge? I think that’s part of her appeal. Am I right?” I
answered with shallow nod. “Then there’s nothing else to discuss.
I’m not thrilled with the idea of you choosing someone before
they’ve been fully probated here. But I understand your urgency
with wanting your stamp on her. I’m not going to deny you something
you so clearly want.” He made her sound like a patch of lawn I
wanted to pee on. But I understood his point. “Be careful with her.
That’s my only advice. She seems like a headache to me, but I want
you happy, Son.”

“It’s her then,” I assured him. “She’s what
makes me happy.”

“And what does she think of it here?” he
asked as if he already knew.

“She’s adjusting.” And because I couldn’t lie
to my father, I said, “She doesn’t like the Feeders in the hallway.
She thinks we’re inhumane.”

My father rolled his eyes and sagged his
whole upper body on his desk, exaggerating his exasperation. “Of
course she does. Same kind of woman as your mother.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked on a grin.

My father shot me a pointed look. “Doesn’t
have to be. Just be prepared to fight for every inch of that
woman.”

“That’s the plan,” I confirmed. Suddenly my
hands felt empty without her in them. My arms felt useless if she
wasn’t filling them. And we’d barely touched. What would it be like
when she finally gave me permission to have her body? What would it
be like when I finally got to take what was mine?

Bliss.

It would have to be. Incomparable, undisputed
bliss.

“Then take the rest of the day off,” my
father answered. “Let her get acclimated. Show her around. But I
want you at dinner. Your mother would like to spend more time with
her.”

Miller made an indignant sound in his throat
but this time it was easier to ignore him. My father smiled at me,
and I chose to ignore the reserve settled in his eyes. He had given
me permission. That was all I needed.

And suddenly I’d been desperate to get back
to her.

Dinner had been a kind of religious
experience for me. She continued to reveal these layers of herself
that I found practically intoxicating. I just… I just couldn’t get
enough. And even while she’d pushed my father further away, she’d
done nothing but captivate every part of me.

I’d also seen her relax some.

My dad had helped with that when he asked,
“So, Reagan, what do you think of our little community?” I’d held
my breath waiting for her answer, but it hadn’t come. My father
prompted her by saying, “It can be overwhelming at first, I realize
this. Especially since you’ve been by yourself for so long.”

Her body had stiffened in that angry way of
hers and she’d shot back with, “I haven’t been by myself. I’m by
myself right now, while you keep my friends locked up at gun
point.” And then she flinched forward when I assumed my sister
kicked her under the table. I’d been at the receiving end of that
pointed toe a time or two before.

I couldn’t always count on Tyler, but she
tended to come through when I needed her most.

Tyler spoke up then, saving us all from
whatever else Reagan wanted to complain about. “Speaking of, I
better get them dinner.”

Reagan seemed to relax at those words and I
felt my hatred for those bastards renewed. What she really needed
to do was forget them completely.

In time
, I promised myself.

After Tyler had flounced off, my father went
back to pushing Reagan. I didn’t understand his game plan, but my
respect for her was surpassed into something like awed
fascination.

“Kane says you don’t approve of our wall
decorations.” Matthias regarded her over the dinner table and
waited patiently for her to walk into his verbal trap. She wasn’t
the first person to have issue with my father’s ostentation, but
unlike all the times before, I was very anxious to see how she
would answer.

“They should be shot,” she said simply but
firmly. “They’re disgusting reminders of the peril we’re in; it’s
cruel and dangerous for you and your people.”

“My people know better than to get near them.
A small child would know better than to get near them. And what is
so cruel about their treatment? Their minds and souls have
vanished. The only thing they are capable of living for is their
addiction to human flesh. Even in their wasted states where they
can’t hold their own body weight up without the help of those steel
bars, sill they reach and hunger for flesh. It has consumed them
until they are less than human, less than even animal, until they
are a species of terrifying creatures all their own.”

She didn’t miss a beat, “So put them out of
their misery! They were once humans. They were once someone’s
father or mother, son or daughter. They were brothers and sisters
and neighbors and bosses and employees. They had purpose in life,
they had happiness and love. You are degrading them and decimating
their memory! And their mind might be dead, but what about their
soul? Their hearts still beat, their blood still pumps. How can you
judge someone’s soul when they are technically still alive?”

Her speech met silence. She’d stunned my
father. And my mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

I realized then why my father felt hesitant
to accept her. She could be his opposite.

Easily.

My father’s success had been partly born from
in instinctive ability to survive and help others survive. But the
other part, the part that had spread the word about The Colony and
drawn outsiders in, was his unquestionable charisma. Sure, if you
were on the wrong side of his good will, you suffered at his hand.
But generally speaking, he could pull in any audience and spin
words and tales until they were emptying their pockets in the name
of a greater good that he gave to them. He was incredibly talented
at collecting followers.

And Reagan had that same spark. She spoke
with true conviction that demanded a response. She felt compassion
in ways that no one else would ever consider. And she forced you to
believe with her, to take her words and adapt them as your own
beliefs.

No wonder my father kept pushing her- he saw
her as an enemy.

But he had nothing to worry about. She would
be with me, stay by my side and not rock his carefully constructed
boat. She’d help him build his civilization. She’d work for him,
not against him.

She caught me staring at her, my emotions,
feelings and hopes for our future visible all over my unguarded
face. I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck and I
resisted the urge to rub my contacts into place.

Luckily my father broke the spelled silence
with sarcasm, “Well, hells bells ya’ll! I do believe we have a free
thinker on our hands.”

“Matthias,” my mother chided him.

He ignored her, “Kane, you are one lucky man,
Son.” I met his gaze a little reluctantly, but was pleasantly
surprised to see him beaming with pride. “Best to hold on to her,
break that spirit as quick as you can.”

Miller made that disgruntled sound in the
back of his throat again, but I was too focused on the girl next to
me to mind. I put a gentle hand on Reagan’s shoulder, like I was
calming a frightened animal and let my fingers rub along her
shoulder blade to the nape of her neck. I absorbed the heat of her
body into my fingertips, relished in the touch of her body beneath
my hand.

In my most honest voice, I said, “I’m not
interested in a broken woman, Father. I like Reagan’s spirit. I’m
drawn to her spunk and defiance. She’s like the life that’s missing
in this dead world, the fight that has depleted and rusted away. I
would never take that away from her.”

She looked up at me, surprised and unsure,
but I did my best to comfort her with an easy smile. She got a
little lost staring up at me. Her brow furrowed over those dark
eyes and her mouth wasn’t quite sure whether to smile or frown.
Instead, she pressed her lips together to take the decision away
from them completely.

We had a moment. This was another one of our
infinite minutes, when time became irrelevant and we just watched
each other, trying to fit the other one into our individual lives.
She worked to make me the villain and I desired to make her my
fearless heroine. We weren’t quite in sync yet, but we would be.
She couldn’t deny the something between us, even if her something
didn’t have a name yet.

Mine had only just developed into something
substantial and tangible.

My something had become
future
. Reagan
was my future- in every sense of the word.

“How cavalier,” I heard my father tease. “My
son, the gentleman.”

I’d been too lost to respond though. Was I a
gentleman? I didn’t really know. It’s not like I’d been accused of
that before.
Insane. Heartless. Cruel. Monster
. Those were
the words I’d heard lately to describe me.

So why did gentleman feel right? More right
than any of those truer descriptors?

It was Reagan. She was the reason, the
difference.

And now that she stood watching herself in
the bathroom mirror, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.
So
lovely.

I watched her brush her teeth as if it were
normal for us. And then she took care of her hair and face and I
wanted to help her. I wanted to take the washcloth and press it
against her skin, I wanted to trail it down her throat, wash away
the dirt of the day and help her feel as beautiful as she
looked.

The only black mark on the whole evening was
when I offered her clothes to sleep in. She declined, although I
wasn’t sure I expected her to accept. Still, the strong current of
paranoia reminded me she was a fighter and she wasn’t finished
fighting with me.

My guard might have started to drop, but that
was all I needed to remember her friends locked away tonight.

As if to confirm my thoughts, she said, “You
cannot possibly expect me to give up my freedom so easily and
accept this… this imprisonment, can you?”

I grinned at her and shook my head. “I guess
not.” And that was the truth. I slid past her into the bathroom and
pulled out my own toothbrush. “Wait for me?” I asked her, feeling
achingly exposed.

She shrugged like she didn’t have a choice,
but she did. I had just given her one. I felt warmed immediately by
her choice to stay with me.

And then I felt hot- scorching- while she
watched me get ready from her perch on the useless toilet seat lid.
Her gaze never left my body. She stared, enthralled with my mouth
while I brushed and then my chest when I tugged off my t-shirt. Her
eyes raked over me. My body reacted in every way to her while she
stared at me. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting her in that
moment.

If only to pull her inside the bathroom with
me. Push her against the sink. Grip her thighs and lift her up,
only to set her down on the edge of the ceramic countertop. All I
wanted was to step inside the cradle of her thighs and plunder her
mouth with mine. Claim her in every way.

I shook my head at the same time she did-
both of us snapping out of a lust-induced haze.

I went for my contacts then, desperate to get
them out and give my poor dry eyes some relief. I set them in their
little containers and slid on my glasses. They were cumbersome and
awkward at times, but I preferred them over my contacts. Contacts
were not a permanent solution. I was lucky I’d had enough to last
me this long. I was more worried about breaking my glasses.

Not that I was entirely blind without my
visual aids, but it was decently bad- bad enough to know that
without something to bring the world around me into clarity I would
live the rest of my life with one giant migraine.

Reagan had broken out into a blinding smile,
so I had to ask, “What?”

“The glasses,” she laughed softly. “They’re
just not very intimidating.”

I held out my hand to her and disguised my
shock when she actually took it. I pulled her to standing and
confessed, “I’m not trying to intimidate you, Reagan.”

She didn’t answer me but I felt her believe
me. I saw it in her trusting expression, felt it in the way her
dainty fingers wrapped around mine. My chest swelled and I felt
like pounding it with pride.

At one of the guest bedrooms, I stopped and
told her, “You can stay here until you’re… until you’re more
comfortable with being around me.”

She nodded and seemed to relax even more.
“Thank you,” she answered sweetly.