Naughty Little Gift -- A Temptation Court Novella (Temptation Court, Book 1) (24 page)

“Gah ’head, sugar plum,” she purrs. “He’s all yours now. Take gooood care of him, because ya won’t get a chance at it for long.”

Carol marches forward. Blasts at the guards, “Get her
out
of here!”

But their persistent prisoner breaks free. “Ya haven’t told her yet—have ya Cassian?” She cackles through a laugh as they wrestle her in again. “Ha! Imagine
that
. Cassian Court, preachin’ about a girl bein’ readah with the parachute—only
he’s
holdin’ the rip cord.” Her head lolls to the side. “Or was it Lily who had the cord…in the end?”

I finally fish a tissue out of my purse—but as I raise it to Cassian’s face, my hand trembles. The crowd that’s gathered…they are surely here to watch the rambling soused girl, not her hapless target…

Then why do I feel the weight of a hundred stares on
my
back? Squirm against the potent heft of their curiosity and shock?

Feel the probe of Cassian’s desperation because of it, even before he looks up, through his own blood, at me?

“Don’t listen to her, Ella.
Don’t
.
Listen
.”

I feel my stare narrow—as my heartbeat quickens. “Is there something to listen to?” A boulder careens down my throat when he gives back only thick silence. “
Cassian
?”

“Ohhhh, wait. Maybuh she’s jusss your type, Cas. Sweet. Cute. Clingy. Suicidal. Right?”

“Fuck.” Cassian mutters it—as the tissue drops from my limp fingers.

“What’d’ya think, little Arcadian princess? Ya have what it takes to be a real Lily Rianna Court, hmmm?”

Her giggle blends with the crowd’s buzz, rising with the pitch only possible with a mix of nerves and scandal—a sound with which I am sadly familiar, thanks to the machinations of the Sancti Court.

As the guards jostle her out the door, Amelie starts to sing, high-pitched and off-key. “Lileee of the vallleee…you are so beeeaut-i-fulll to meee…”

In the strange hush that follows, my lungs fight for air.

The crowd still gawks.

As the whispers begin.

And the walls close in. And the room becomes my prison.

“Ella?’

And his voice, my cruel jailer.

“
Ella
?”

I take jerking steps back. Hold out my hands at his face, now wavering in the blur of my tears. “I—I need air. I have to get air.”

“Ella!”

I do not listen. I do not turn. I cannot.

Somehow, I find my way back outside. It is not the same way we entered the building. Nothing is as bright here, and I am grateful for the shadowed paths. They…fit. More than I want to comprehend…

The only thing I can think about now.

Ella…it’s time to live in the light.

“Bull…shit.” It stutters out between sobs. Ends in a rasp, mingling with the streams down my face, that are finally rescued by gravity to fall away…

into the dark.

“Ella.”

His voice makes me falter.

Fool. Fool.

I double my pace.

“Ella, for fuck sake!”

I stop, telling myself it is more for me than him—that it has nothing to do with the serration in his voice, or how his breath clutches at the end. I freeze, staring across the dark expanse of the park’s main lawn. In the distance,
le carrousel
glows, alight but empty, only a promise of magic.

Like the man who scrambles to stand in front of me now.

“Ella.”

“
No.
” It hurtles out, unthinking and unmitigated, from the same awful place where my tears live. My
fears.
The dread with which I have wrestled since the day I went to Kate’s and learned that the knight who carried me off to his kingdom is not the shining Lancelot I originally painted into my Cassian Court journal…the omen that his “ghosts” were much more than just that, and I would confront those specters too damn late?

After too much of my heart belonged to him.

Like now.

After the point of no return, between it hurting me…and crushing me.

Like now.

“No, Cassian. I—I cannot—”

“Or you will not?”

Again without thought, I whirl. Launch myself at him. “How dare you.” Drive fists into his chest with any shred of strength I have left. “How
fucking
dare you.” Pummel him again and again, until the tears build and swell and spill once more. “
I will not
? I will not
what
, Cassian? Hear
your
side now, after I begged you for it at Temptation? Try to make
sense
of you now? Try to figure out why you have crooned to me about our destiny, our connection, and our light, only to learn—in front of hundreds of people—that you were—that…you have…been…”

It grinds to a halt deep in my belly. Stuck in my soul. Brimming instead in my tears.

He speaks it instead.

With his tears soaking through it.

“Married.”

I hate myself for gazing back to him. Hate myself even more for how my heart bursts once more for him, sprouting a million vines that reach for the brilliant sustenance of him…even now, as he falls to the grass in his darkest grief.

No.

Especially
now.

Slowly, quietly, I lower next to him. As my skirt floats atop the grass, his hand folds over mine. Grips me with fervent force.

I hold on in return. Just as tight.

Finally, his voice quivers the air between us. “We were together…for a year. Married…for most of the next.”

“Until she took her life.” When he only nods, I go on. “And you…loved her?”

I pray he is not insulted by the query. It feels important for me to know…for absolute certain. Aside from Brooke and Samsyn, and soon Evrest and Camellia, I do not know a single marriage born from love.

“Yes,” he utters. “I loved her.”

“But…?” It is as heavy in his tone as the dew across the grass.

“But it was a young love.” He lifts his head. The wind loosens his hair, tumbling it into his eyes, which are earnest…and honest. “A boy’s, for a girl. Not a man’s—for a woman.” His fingers twist tighter into mine. “Mishella…”

He pauses, giving me time to swallow. To breathe. To think.

Then to yank free from him.

To bolt to my feet. And turn. And run.

I refuse to let him speak it. I possess no doubt that he
means
it. But accepting it now, as some kind of enchanted glue to “fix” tonight—

No
.

Not here, in our dark. In our rawness and weakness.

I need time. I am still…

afraid.

“Heyyyy. What is
such
a pretty lady doing, running around in the darkness like this?”

The voice clutches me to a new stop. My head jerks up and my stare circles around. Lost in my emotions, I have stumbled all the way to the other side of the lawn—to the darker side of the park.

The much darker side.

Into a triangle of men who are definitely
not
attending the Literacy Ball.

Their faces are unshaven, though their heads are shiny and bald. Piercings turn the three of them into walking jewelry counters. More silver gleams from their fingers—and from the smirk I get from the one now blocking my path.

“I—umm—I apologize, gentlemen. I seem to have gotten a little turned around.”

“Ohhhh.” Another one sidles in from the left. “Did you hear that, guys? We’re
gentlemen
now.”

“Moron.” The first one snorts. “We always
have
been gentlemen.” His pierced brows waggle. “We just…got a little turned around too.”

The third thug steps in from the right. “Maybe we can all get back on the ‘straight and narrow’ together.”

I may be from an island not much larger than this one—and have not seen any of the world beyond it before two weeks ago.

Some may even call me naïve.

But I am not stupid.

I know when to scream as if my life is depending on it.

Because it is.

The world cartwheels and tilts. I kick and struggle but they are strong and many—and the bushes into which they drag me are thick and twisted. And dark.
By the Creator
, so dark…

Somehow, I get my teeth into the grimy hand that’s been clamped over my mouth. “Dammit!
Bitch
!”

For a blessed moment, I am able to breathe again. And scream again. “
Help
! Somebod—”

“Shut her
up
!”

“And hold her down, dammit!”

A new hand clamps my mouth. More hands pin me down in a pile of leaves and dirt. Still, I never stop struggling, even as they shove my skirts to my waist. I never stop resisting, even as they grab at my thighs, and—

“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands.
Off of her
.”

Like a bullet shot into a flock of birds, the thugs jump up. I scramble backward, ignoring the twigs and thorns scratching me everywhere, unwilling to trust my trembling knees enough to stand. Fear seizes me like ice. Panic battles it, searing and dizzying. Nausea bubbles in my throat. “C-Cassian?” I finally get out in a choke.

“I’m not alone.” It is him but not him. Rage is a living thing in his voice, a walking beast in his steps. “NYPD’s two blocks away, and they’ve got a GPS lock on my cell.”

“Let’s beat it!”

“Come on, dickwad! Now!”

The new Cassian creature snarls again—and right now, it is the most wonderful sound in the world. “Listen to your pals,
dickwad
.”

I blink, battling to focus on him. Wonderful or not, he has confronted these monsters head on. I plead the thug with every exigency in my heart.
Please be a good dickwad and go away. Just go away
!

Creator’s mercy. There is so much movement. So many shadows. It is all happening so fast—

“You know what, fancy ass?
Fuck you
.”

Then entirely too slow.

And with the cruel joke of horror, I can see him again.

As three bursts of light flare in the night.

And three bullets rip into the man I love.

*

Cassian

Way to fuck
up a night, asshole.

At least I think it’s still night. Police sirens sound different in the city at night. More desperate. And isn’t that the moon, over the buildings, floating in the stars? It’s right there. So beautiful. So unreachable.

’Cause you’re a sky; ’cause you’re a sky full of stars…

So cold.

Like me. Why the hell am I so cold? It’s the end of May in New York City. I’m still in New York, right? At the Literacy Ball…kissing the woman I love.

No.

Chasing the woman I love.

I’m gonna give you my heart…

“Ella?”

“Cassian!”

“Ella.” Why can’t I reach her? Why can’t I
move
? “Fuck. Ella.”

“Do not move!”

“Okay.”

“Help is coming!”

“Help for…what?”

“Sssshh. Save your strength. Be
still,
for Creator’s sake!”

“Sssshh.” I hurl it back defiantly. Reach up, needing to brush her tears back. Why is she still crying? All I’ve done tonight is make her cry. “It’ll be all right. Everything will be all right.”

Her shoulders shake. The cream curves of them are so perfect against the stars. Satin and light…my warmth in the chill. “Ridiculous man.” Her watery smile beams into me.
All
of me. The soul I can no longer hide from her… “That is supposed to be my line.”

“Why?”

Her head snaps up. The rest of her follows, scattering leaves—
leaves
?—before she’s gone and I’m cold again. So fucking cold.

Go on and tear me apart…

“Over here!” Her shout is shrill and scared. No. Terrified. “He is over here! Please—hurry!”

Why is she so frightened?

“Ella.” It resonates in my head but is just a puff on my lips.
Ella. Come back. Please…

“Help him. Please help him!”

“We will—but Miss, in order for that to happen, you need to stand back.”

“Cassian. I’m still here. I’m right here. Cassian…please hang on!”

I blink, forcing my head to twist, following the call of her voice. Focusing on her. Only on her…even as the cold closes in, gripping more of me than before…

’Cause you get lighter the more it gets dark…

*