Of Poseidon (36 page)

“Actually, Mark, it will take more than a second. She’s coming with me.”

Mark swings his own door open and meets us by the tail-gate. “Why don’t we ask Emma who she’s coming with? I mean, it’s her choice, right?”

The look Galen gives me is clear: Take care of this, or I will. Or maybe it’s more like, It would be my plea sure to take care of this. Either way, I don’t want Mark taken care of.

Standing between them, the testosterone- to- air ratio is almost suff ocating. If I pick Galen, the chances of Mark ever calling me again are as good as Galen eating a whole cheesecake by himself.

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If I choose Mark, the chances of Galen not wielding his built- in 0—

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brass knuckles are as good as Rayna giving someone a compli-ment.

My desire to salvage this date with Mark is almost as strong as my desire to salvage his face from certain disfi gurement. But salvaging the date as opposed to his face would be selfi sh in the long run. I sigh in defeat. “I’m sorry, Mark.” Mark lets out a gust of air. “Ouch.” Scratching the back of his neck, he chuckles. “I guess I should be more superstitious, huh?”

He’s right. I screwed this up. I should have salvaged the date, his pride. And I should have broken Galen’s royal nose with my own Syrena fi st. I turn to His Highness. “Galen, could you give me a minute please? You’ll have the next hour to talk to me since you’re taking me straight home.”

Without a word, Galen nods and walks away.

I can’t quite meet Mark’s eyes when I say, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what his deal is. He never acts like this.” Except that time he beat Toraf like a stepchild on the beach when he kissed me. But only because Toraf betrayed Rayna. Right?

Mark smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can’t say I blame him. I can already tell you’re worth it. I just never had the guts to ask you out. Chloe threatened my life. You know that chick could hit like a man, right? She said you were too good for me.

I think she was right.”

“Wh . . . what? Chloe knew you liked me?”

“Yeah. She never told you? Course not. She thought I was a player.”

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I nod, still too stunned that my best friend also acted as my bodyguard without me knowing. “She did think you were a player. And she could defi nitely hit like a man.”

“That’s what my friend Jax says anyway.” Then a little lower,

“Geez, Galen’s watching me like a hawk right now. He has serial- killer eyes, you know that?”

I giggle.

“What do you think he’d do if I kissed you good- bye on the cheek?” he whispers conspiratorially.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He has no idea how serious I am. As he leans in, I brace myself. At the slightest spark of electricity, I’m prepared to turn around with my fi sts up. But the lightning doesn’t strike. Galen is behaving for now.

As Mark pulls away from his barely there peck, he sighs.

“Do me a favor,” he whispers.

“Mmm?”

“Keep my number. Give me a call if he screws up again.” I smile. “I will, I promise. I had a good time to night.” Did the date and Mark’s face get salvaged? Do I have a chance to redeem myself with him?

He chuckles. “Yeah, glad we got to drive here from Middle Point together. Next time, we’ll make it a real adventure and take the bus. See you at school, Emma.”

“Bye.”

I turn on my high heel, which is no easy feat in a gravel parking lot. Not losing eye contact with Galen, I stare him down until I get to the door he’s opened for me. He seems uncon-

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cerned. In fact, he seems downright emotionless. “This better 0—

be good,” I tell him as I plop down.

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“You should have returned my calls. Or my texts,” he says, his voice tight.

As he backs out of the parking space, I yank my cell out of my purse, perusing the texts. “Well, doesn’t look like anyone died, so why the hell did you ruin my date?” It’s the fi rst time I’ve ever cursed at royalty and it’s liberating. “Or is this a kidnapping? Is Grom in the trunk? Are you taking us on our honeymoon?”

You’re supposed to be hurting him, not yourself, moron. My lip trembles like the traitor it is. Even though I’m looking away, I can tell Galen’s impassive expression has softened because of the way he says, “Emma.”

“Leave me alone, Galen.” He pulls my chin to face him. I knock his hand away. “You can’t go forty miles an hour on the interstate, Galen. You need to speed up.”

He sighs and shifts gears. By the time we reach a less-embarrassing speed, I’ve abandoned my hurt for rage- o-plenty, struck by the realization that I’ve turned into “that girl.” Not the one who exchanges her doctorate for some kids and a three-bedroom two- bath, but the other kind. That girl who exchanges her dignity and chances for happiness for some possessive loser who beats her when she makes eye contact with some random guy working the hot dog stand.

Not that Galen beats me, but after his little show, what will people think? He acted like a lunatic to night, stalking me to Atlantic City, blowing up my phone, and threatening my date with physical violence. He made serial- killer eyes, for crying out

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loud. That might be acceptable in the watery grave, but by

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dry- land standards, it’s the ingredients for a restraining order.

And why are we getting off the interstate?

“Where are you taking me? I told you I want to go home.”

“We need to talk,” he says quietly, taking a dark road just off the exit. “I’ll take you home after I feel you understand.”

“I don’t want to talk. You might have realized that when I didn’t answer your calls.”

He pulls over on the shoulder of Where- Freaking- Are- We Street. Shutting off the engine, he turns to me, putting his arm around the back of my seat. “I don’t want to break up.” One Mississippi . . . two Mississippi . . . “You followed me like a crazy person to tell me that? You ruined my date for that?

Mark is a nice guy. I deserve a nice guy, don’t I, Galen?”

“Absolutely. But I happen to be a nice guy, too.” Three Mississippi . . . Four Mississippi . . . “Don’t you mean Grom? And you’re not a nice guy. You threatened Mark with physical pain.”

“You threw Rayna through a window. Call it even?”

“When are you going to get over that? Besides, she provoked me!”

“Mark provoked me, too. He put his hand on your leg. We won’t even talk about the kiss on your cheek. Don’t think I didn’t hear you give him permission either.”

“Oh, now that’s rich,” I snort, getting out of the car. Slamming the door, I scream at him. “Now you’re acting jealous on behalf of your brother,” I say, spinning in place. “Can Grom do

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anything without the almighty Galen helping him?” Having a 0—

few half fi sh in my family tree keeps my vision from blurring

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through the pudgy tears— I can perfectly see the solid yellow line on the road as I walk it. When I hear him following, I rip off my heels and start sprinting. Two months ago, this kind of abuse to my bare feet would leave them bleeding and with who-knows- what embedded in them. But with the con ve nience of my new thick skin, running barefoot is like running in Nike’s latest kicks.

Galen is apparently a fl ying fi sh though— his hand wraps around my arm, braking my own sad attempt at fl ight. He whirls me around. Pulling me to him, he lifts my chin with the pad of his thumb. When I jerk away, he grasps it tight, forcing me to look at him. The old Emma would be bruised within the next ten minutes. The new one is just pissed off .

“Let go!” I screech, pushing against his chest. Somehow this just gets me closer to him.

“Emma,” he growls as I stomp his foot. “What would you have done?”

Okay, that’s unexpected. I stop fl ailing. “What?”

“Tell me what you would have done if you were me. Tell me what you would do if you had to choose between the survival of mankind— and I’m talking babies and grandmothers and all your human relatives,” he says, breathless. I realize I’ve never seen that before. Galen low on air. “Tell me how easy it would be to abandon them, if it meant you could have the only thing you’ve ever wanted in your whole life? Tell me, Emma. Which would you pick?”

“I . . . I don’t . . . under—”

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He shakes me, his grip in fl exible. “Yes, you do, Emma. You

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know exactly what I’m saying. Answer me. Think of what you want the most. The one thing you might not be able to live without.”

Well, that’s a no- brainer. It’s Galen, hands- down. “Okay.”

“Now imagine how you’d feel if you were asked to trade that one thing you love so that the human race could go on.

People you don’t even know. People who aren’t even born yet.

Would you do it? Could you? Even if almost no one ever knew the huge sacrifi ce you made for them and would never appreciate what you gave up?”

Gently, I shake free from his grasp. He lets me step away from him. The intensity in his eyes sends chills down the length of me. “It would be selfi sh not to trade,” I say quietly. “It’s not even a choice, really.”

“Exactly. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Are you saying . . . What are you saying?” Is he . . . could he be talking about me?

He runs a hand through his hair. I’ve never seen him this emotional before. He’s always so controlled, so sure of himself.

“I’m saying you’re what I want, Emma. I’m saying I’m in love with you.”

He steps forward and lifts his hand to my cheek, blazing a line of fi re with his fi ngertips as they trace down to my mouth.

“How do you think it would make me feel to see you with Grom?” he whispers. “Like someone ripped my heart out and put it through Rachel’s meat grinder, that’s how. Probably worse.

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It would probably kill me. Emma, please don’t cry.” 0—

I throw my hands in the air. “Don’t cry? Are you serious?

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Why did you come here, Galen? Did you think it would make me feel better to know that you do love me, but that it still won’t work out? That I still have to mate with Grom for the greater good? Don’t you tell me not to cry, Galen! I . . . c . . . c . . .

can’t h . . . h . . . help—” The waterworks soak me. Galen looks at me, hands by his side, helpless as a trapped crab. I’m bordering on hyperventilation, and pretty soon I’ll start hiccupping.

This is too much.

His expression is so severe, it looks like he’s in physical pain.

“Emma,” he breathes. “Emma, does this mean you feel the same way? Do you care for me at all?”

I laugh, but it sounds sharper than I intended, because of a hiccup. “What does it matter how I feel, Galen? I think we pretty much covered why. No need to rehash things, right?”

“It matters, Emma.” He grabs my hand and pulls me to him again. “Tell me right now. Do you care for me?”

“If you can’t tell that I’m stupid in love with you, Galen, then you aren’t a very good ambassador for the hum—” His mouth covers mine, cutting me off . This kiss isn’t gentle like the fi rst one. It’s defi nitely not sweet. It’s rough, demanding, searching. And disorienting. There’s not a part of me that isn’t melting against Galen, not a part that isn’t combusting with his fevered touch.

I accidentally moan into his lips. He takes it for his cue to lift me off my feet, to pull me up to his height for more leverage.

I take his groan for my cue to kiss him harder.

He ignores his cell phone ringing in his pocket. I ignore the

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rest of the universe. Even when headlights approach, I’m willing

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to overlook their intrusion and keep kissing. But, prince that he is, Galen is a little more refi ned than me at this moment. He gently pries his lips from mine and sets me down. His smile is both intoxicated and intoxicating. “We still need to talk.”