Pieces of Autumn (29 page)

My stomach churned at the memory, and I forced myself back to the present. Autumn was shoving her feet into the boots, still radiating anger.
 

I made a soft noise of approval, eyeing her top to bottom. She looked damn good. Once again, I was tempted to throw out my plans and fuck her senseless, but this wasn't the time.

Her arms were folded across her chest.

"Go on," I said. "Say what you're thinking."

She rolled her eyes. "Why, so you have an excuse to punish me?"

"I don't need an excuse," I reminded her. "Tell me."

"I can't figure you out." She crossed her arms. "The other day we were cuddling on the kitchen floor, and now you're looking at me like you want to kill me."

Taking Chimaera's reins, I smiled tightly. "I'm complicated. Get on."

I linked my hands for her, making a footrest. She glanced at me.

"Bareback?"

I nodded. "Never broke her for a saddle. She doesn't like them."

Shrugging, she stepped into my hands, hoisting herself up with a burst of strength. Her posture was decent, but she had that first-timer's nervousness, like she expected to be thrown off at any moment.

I took the reins and led them outside, into the sunlight. Autumn was blinking, trying to adjust. Her whole body jolted with each step. She was losing her posture, distracted by the motions, and all the sights and sounds of being outside.
 

Resting my hands on Chimaera's back to warn her, I hoisted myself up to join Autumn.

She let out a little squeal of surprise at my sudden appearance.
 

"What are you doing?" She twisted her head around, not quite able to meet my eyes.

"Showing you how to ride." I laid my hands on her waist, correcting her posture. "Straight up. Like this. Or you're going to hurt in the morning."

Nodding, she made an effort to follow my instructions. "How the hell did you get up here?"

"I jumped." Chuckling, I pretended not to notice the way she scooted her ass closer to my groin. "I can teach you, if you want."

She snorted. "Yeah, right."

"You can do it. Just have to practice." I stroked Chimaera's side, mostly to keep my hands off of Autumn's thighs. "Or she can lie down for you, if you'd rather."

We were passing the side of the property, which she'd evidently never seen before. Her eyes darted from side to side, taking everything in.

"Is that your garden?" she asked, pointing at the patch of earth where my herbs and vegetables sprouted.

"Yes."
Would it be anyone else's?

"Okay, that was a stupid question," she admitted. "But I just can't picture you..."

Shrugging slightly, jostling her body with the movement, I said: "I like to eat well. This is the easiest way."

"Yeah, I'd noticed."

And I'd noticed too. Since coming here, Autumn's curves were filling out, some of the color coming back into her face. It was a small satisfaction that I could at least feed her. I might be incapable of caring for her in any other way, but she no longer had the gaunt look of someone who'd been living off of scraps for far too long.

"It must have been hard to adjust, at first," she was saying. "All of a sudden, when your money can't buy what you're used to having."

I bristled. "It wasn't like that," I insisted, my voice sounding much harsher than I intended.

"Sorry," she said, quietly. "I didn't mean to...it's just, you seem like someone with a lot of influence. I thought maybe..."

"No," cut in. "That happened much later."

It was Stoker's influence that had built me into a force to be reckoned with. Working closely with Holland had given me connections, name recognition, and above all, information. These days, information was the most valuable commodity you could possibly have. My trade agreements were fair enough, but they were always bolstered by the knowledge that I had thick files of blackmail material on almost every man, woman or child in this world with a penny to their name.

If I relied on someone for anything, anything at all, I made a point of ensuring I had them by the short hairs. And they knew it.

Before the crash, my family had next to nothing. We scraped by better than some, relying on the same tricks we'd used to survive for a long time. Before long, my parents were going hungry so that I had enough to eat. Once I realized what was happening, I tried to refuse the food, but they wouldn't take it.

And that was when I knew I had to leave.

I was a burden to them, and I always would be. And I could tell things were only going to get worse. This was just beginning of it, the first signs of unrest, the sweeping layoffs, the closures, the protests. I was still young, but I was old enough to see that this was no ordinary recession.

Being alone was even worse than I could have imagined.

Now, I wasn't alone anymore. I had Autumn.

And I still didn't know how I felt about that.

It was impossible to reconcile the conflict inside. I was both captivated and disgusted by everything that passed between us, when I allowed my lust to take over. I became someone I'd never wanted to be again. A man who only existed because of all the pain and abuse I'd been forced to inflict. How could I accept these desires as a part of me? They were too hideous, too brutal. All I wanted was to break her. To destroy her fucking soul. But if I actually managed to do it, I'd never be able to forgive myself.

Just being around her was pure torture. A constant reminder of my sins. She wasn't Daniela, she was nothing like Daniela, but the memories flooded back all the same. That bitch who betrayed me - to save her own cowardly life, she blamed everything on me. The escape we'd planned together, suddenly, it was all my fault.

She was stupid enough to think they'd spare her life. She didn't know Stoker like I did.

Just like Daniela, Autumn was more than happy to use the protection of men who'd devour her alive. There was no honor in the choice she made. No dignity. She was like a trapped animal chewing off her own leg, only to bleed out in the forest.

She wanted me to treat her with respect. How could I?

The very first moment we met, she should have turned and run.

Never looked back.

Then
, I would have respected her.

"Look."

Autumn's voice jerked me back to the present. She was pointing to the space between the mountains where the sun dipped down, the sky tinged pink and orange and purple. I'd looked at it a thousand times, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd
seen
it.

"Thank you," she said, very quietly.

For once, I didn't say anything back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Wild Horses

When my parents died, something inside me died, too.

If anybody asked, I'd say I hated Birdy for doing it. The pure loathing, the fury, the thirst for his blood was all-encompassing.
 

But I hated them, too. For leaving me.

And I knew it was horrible. I knew it was the worst possible thing a human being could do, hating their parents for being murdered, but that was how I felt. Bitter and resentful and
hateful
. And what was the point in ever letting someone else matter to me again? It could only end in tears.

I came close, with Nikki. But when she left with Stoker, I felt that iron door deep inside me slam shut again. Tighter. More impenetrable than ever.
 

And that was why I stayed. Not just because I needed protection. Not just because of the dark flames that licked in my belly whenever he touched me.

It was because of this.

When I looked in the mirror, I saw my own reflection. But it was Tate who stared back at me.

Riding Chimaera became a habit. Sometimes I went out alone, other times, Tate came with me. There was a crate for me to mount on, but whenever he was there, he'd help lift me up. A few times, he tried to teach me jumping from the ground, but it always ended with my sliding ungracefully onto the hay. He tried to hide his smile, but was seldom successful.

Watching him mount was a sight to behold. He'd leap from the ground, one hand gripping her mane, and land just slightly askew on her back, legs clutching her sides. With a slight shimmy, he'd right himself, and Chimaera would just stand there calmly. It seemed incomprehensible to me that a man like Tate would have taken the time to tame and soothe
any
living creature. Patience was not his strong suit.

"Where did you get her?" I asked him, once, as we cantered around the edge of his land.

He hesitated for a moment. "I didn't. She was here first."

Our rides were never as long as I would have liked them to be. Just when the conversation started to get interesting, he'd cut things short, explaining that Chimaera couldn't support both of our weights for very long.
 

"You mean, she was wild?" I asked him.

"Or feral. It took a year for me to get within ten feet of her."

So much for his supposed impatience. Why couldn't be afford a human being the same level of respect?

"Go on." There was a smile in his words. "Say what you're thinking."

I laughed quietly. "It's impressive, that's all."

"I had a lot of spare time." He made a soft sound with his tongue, and Chimaera changed directions.
 

"She doesn't ask about the past, or wonder about the future." I stroked her neck. "I'm not surprised she'd be a good friend to you."

When I rode alone, I told her my secrets. Everything I felt for Tate but couldn't admit. There was a freedom in speaking the words, if only softly - if only to someone who couldn't understand.

One morning, around the time he would have typically been in the kitchen, Tate was nowhere to be found. I searched the house absently, feeling a ball of anxiety in my chest for no particular reason. It wasn't like he hadn't disappeared before, for an hour or two. Presumably to pick up some shipment of luxury goods that only he could afford.

I paused by the door.

There was a faint sound coming from outside. It was difficult to hear indoors, over the hum of the generator, so I went to the front door and pressed my ear against the wood, trying to gauge it.

Chimaera?

It certainly sounded like a horse's whinny. But it wasn't the soft nicking sound she made when I stroked her muzzle; something was wrong.

Heart pounding, I pulled on a pair of boots and fumbled hurriedly with the locks on the door. I was still no expert, though I'd watched Tate do it so quickly a dozen times. I ran outside and hurried towards the barn, hearing the whinnies grow more panicked as I went.

Throwing open the barn door, I first saw the horse, shaking her head and stamping nervously in the corner. She was staring at something on the ground, and my eyes followed hers.

Oh God, Tate.

He was convulsing on the ground, eyes black and glassy, staring at nothing. I fell to my knees and grabbed onto him, trying to gently guide him onto his side.

I felt deathly calm. I knew exactly what to do. I stayed close, loosening his collar and his belt, careful not to hold onto him too tightly lest he injure himself. Growing up with a mother who suffered from epilepsy her whole life, I had to know these things.

I took a deep breath, and only let it out when his body started to calm.

He spasmed a few more times before going limp, shuddering and soaked with sweat. I made soothing noises in Chimaera's direction, and she snorted nervously, still pawing at the ground.
 

Tate made a soft noise, trying to talk, but I shushed him. He wasn't ready to move yet. His eyes were still unfocused, his fingers still twitching slightly.
 

Finally, he groaned, making an effort to heave himself upright. I slid an arm around his back and helped him sit up.

"Is everything all right?" I asked him, softly. "What happened?"

He half-shrugged. "S...seizure," he said, almost smiling.

"No shit." I gave him a look. "Something tells me you're not surprised."

Shaking his head, he exhaled heavily. "No," he said. "It's not new."

"Do you take something for it?" I peered into his eyes, trying to see if his pupils were responsive. It was difficult without a light.

"Used to." He swallowed heavily, averting his eyes from mine. He didn't want to talk about it, which made me all the more curious.

"What happened?" I asked, praying he wouldn't shut down.

Tate sighed. "Can't get it anymore. Limited suppliers." He stopped, catching his breath. "Going back inside."

"No, you're not," I said, sternly. "Don't try to stand up. We don't have to talk about this, if you don't want to. I was just curious. If there's anything I can get you..."

He shook his head. "Ran out. Don't worry. They don't happen very..." He paused, frowning. "Very often anymore."

I sat there in silence for a while, my hand resting on Tate's back, just feeling him breathe. I had a suspicion. I hated it, and I hated how much sense it made. There was simply no ignoring the fact that Birdy had a hand in much of the drug-running that went on, these days. Particularly specialty stuff. Now that Tate had pissed him off, his options were limited.