Venus City 1 (32 page)

Braya moved her head from where it was resting on his shoulder and she brushed her cheek against his jaw, the trail of her tears glistening on his skin. Asher withdrew a little so he could look down at her, and Braya let him consume her with his heady blue stare, let him ravish her with those eyes. He brushed away her tears, the pads of his fingertips sending hot glades deep into her blushing cheeks. They leaned forward at the same time, his eager hands cupping her face, her shaking hands fumbling to grasp the front of his jacket, an unspoken desire passing between them. Braya could feel their emotions intermingling again, could feel the seeping of hers with his in the semblance of watercolors. They reached the same point they'd stopped at while on the roof the other night, and Asher filled the gap without hesitating.

Their mouths touched; it was light, barely anything, like the tiny overlapping of two flower petals. He tasted of apples, sweet and tangy, and she was reminded of the scent she'd detected back in the chapel after waking up. Reminded of how Hera-bird had compared her to a rotten apple. Oh, how she hated apples.

Yet...coating his lips, it was delicious. Appetizing.

Asher's hand dipped to the back of her head, and his pinky grazed the mark on her neck. It was the trigger they needed. She plunged forward, hardening the kiss. Asher was responsive, and the gentle fluttering of a kiss grew into something damp, hastened, and exciting. She couldn't sense where he ended and where she began, so was the power of their link. Arousal cascaded over her in such an overwhelming tumult that Braya's hands shot down to graze his stomach, and his edged along the collar of her dress.

Asher pulled away suddenly, when her hands had traveled too far up his abdomen. He stared down at her with heavy breaths whooshing into her face. He removed her hands from under his shirt, and as Braya tried to gather her bearings, she wished horribly that she hadn't been so reckless about it. Was that what little control she had over herself? Was that what feeling
nothing
was like? If that were the case, Braya had never experienced a more beautiful nothing.

“Your wedding is tomorrow,” Asher said quietly. They were sitting in the gardens munching on breakfast toast. They could see the manor from their point of view, and a small pond rested at the foot of the bench, just behind them.

“As if I forgot,” she mumbled. Braya was more worried about her brother than the wedding; he hadn't returned from his visit with their mother the previous day, and he hadn't contacted her at all to let her know what had happened.

“You seem to be quite accepting of it,” Asher said, a slight hitch to his voice.

“So what? Do you expect me to have some elaborate escape plan?” She asked with a snort.

“Kind of,” he shrugged. “I didn't know you were resigned to this.”

“Believe me, marrying Latham and having kids with him is the last thing I want to do right now, but what other choices do I have? Where would I go? What would I do?” She asked helplessly, tossing the remains of her toast on the ground, appetite lost.

“So you're just not going to try anything?” Asher asked, aghast. “You told me last night when we were de-hazing that you were tired of people manipulating you and lying to you. Didn't that mean anything, or was it just big talk?”

She glared at him. “Aren't I allowed to voice my complaints? Just because I don't like a situation doesn't mean there's a way to get out of it.”

“Just grin and bear it, huh?” He asked, shaking his head. “If you ask me, you're making excuses, setting yourself up to fail.”

“I'm not a fan of martyrdom, if that's what you're implying,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “But why don't you look at it realistically? I'm still enslaved to you. Whatever genius escape plan I may choose to undertake could be ruined by you and your stupid little gang.”

“Actually,” he sighed, “You won't have to worry about us for much longer.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He looked dashing in his dark blue blazer edged in silk, but she wouldn't tell him that. She especially wouldn't mention how the dark blue shades of his clothing offset the lighter tones of his eyes and made them seem ever more alluring. “What are you trying to imply?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, throwing her a look. “Tomorrow is when
it's
coming. When our plans finally reach its end. After tomorrow you won't have to serve us and you can do whatever you want.”

“Tell me,” she said sarcastically, “Do these plans occur before or after my wedding?”

“That's not the point—”

“You're right! Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she interjected. “I don't have any means to escape. I'm not cut out for living underground and hiding from the law, like you.”

There was a long pause. His eyes trained on her, and for a moment she wondered what he might be thinking. “What if I helped you?”

Braya was at a loss. “Help me...in what way? I don't know what this thing is that's coming, or what it means for me and this city, but doesn't it mean you'll be free of this...plan? You can go, leave.”

Asher heaved a sigh. “It's really complicated. I still don't know a lot about what's going to happen. I think Channing is fashioning something that will make a big scene—”

“
Channing
? So you're telling me he is part of your group?”

Asher shrugged. “I never said he wasn't, did I?”

“You were awfully silent on the issue, I recall. Why the change of heart?”

He gave her a meaningful look, and reached over to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. A prickle of heat traveled down through her chest. “There's no harm in telling you at this point, as far as I can see.”

“And what if you're wrong?”

“Then I'm wrong,” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to her mouth. He was awfully close. “But I don't ever regret being wrong as long as I'm wrong for the right reasons.”

Her lids felt heavy as he inspected her mouth that way. She felt the urge to bend into his touch, to surrender her mouth to his once more. But she fought it, and said foggily, “Then you're willing to betray the Locers?”

Asher's blue gaze frosted over. “Only if it's for you.” He cleared his throat, and retreated back to his spot on the bench. “Like I said, I'll help you, if you want to get out of your marriage.”

“Is that a foreigner thing?” She asked, searching his expression. She knew he hated it when she asked that question, but she was genuinely curious this time. “Betrayal. Why does it come so easy?”

Asher gave a choked laugh. “You'll find out later on. If you ever find a cause worth betraying others for, report back to me. You'll see it's very easy. But that's not the issue. Are you turning me down? You don't need my help....is that what you're saying?”

Braya swallowed hard. “That's not really what I want...I just want a Crown job. I want a cure for my sister. I don't want to run around underground for the rest of my life.”

“But are you being realistic?” His question came with an arctic sweep of his keen eyes. “I think the time has run out for you to change jobs. Time may have run out for other things as well, Bray...you need to take a stance before you're used up by someone else.”

“And by running out on my wedding with you, that's taking a stance?” She asked heatedly. “Or maybe you're trying to coerce me. You don't like the idea of me being with Latham. You want me all for yourself, so you're trying—”

“Braya,” he said pleadingly, clutching her hand, “
Listen
to yourself! This is not you talking. It's your fear, the fear your mother has raised you with. You need to stop letting it control your every move—”

“BRAYA!”

The two of them jolted apart. Brielle was running at them, her cheeks flushed as red as her hair and her blue parachute dress billowing wide around her legs. “Braya!” She called out again.

Braya jumped up from the bench and jogged to meet her friend. Brielle nearly collapsed on her, panting from exertion.

“Brielle, what's wrong?” Braya asked in alarm.

“Braya, they told me to find you,” she gasped for breath. “They said...” she choked on her own words. “They said that...your brother. He's in the hospital!”

“Aspen!” Braya struggled to steady Brielle on her feet. She held her friend by her shoulders and stared levelly at the girl, hoping her fear wouldn't show through. “Which hospital, Brielle? Did they say which hospital?”

She nodded frantically, red curls flying. “Calmay Hospital. They didn't tell me what was wrong. They want you to-to get there as soon as possible.”

“That's nearly an hour away!” Braya cried in distress.

“You can run halfway,” Asher's voice appeared behind her. “And then get on the Rail. That might take you over thirty minutes, though. However, there is
another
way.” His eyes were alight, and the suggestive lilt to his words made Braya pause, wondering what he'd meant. His gaze slid over to Brielle and then back to Braya, as if to warn her he couldn't speak of it in front of her.

Braya thanked her friend and hastened to have her go back to the manor. “Thanks so much for your help, Brielle. I’ll head there right away. Don’t worry, you can go back inside. You look like you could do with a glass of water.”

Once Brielle was on her way back to the manor, Asher started tugging her in the direction of the front gates.

“What's this miracle way you were hinting at?” She asked, slightly irritable for having to depend on him.

“We can use the Petti,” he said, eyes ablaze. “Flying in those suits and rowing the air with two batons like I did when we were racing—you'll get there in fifteen minutes, at the most.”

“But we'll have to go to the chapel to get the Moon Tamer gear,” she protested.

...she slaughtered every man in the chapel, including Tristant. In her rampage she stole the Sare and buried the chapel under the valley that had once concealed it.

That same chapel...Braya hadn't made the connection while Leraphone had been talking, but now it was horribly obvious. It made her never want to go back there again.

“Don't worry,” he shook his head, still pulling her along by her hand. “We have some stashed away at the tower, in cases of emergencies, such as this.”

“You know you helping me isn't going to change my mind about running away from my wedding with you,” she reminded bitingly.

“I know.”

They used their running enhancements to race to the tower in order to save them time. Asher unburied two floating suits, four batons, and a handful of orbs from a storage closet in the back of the tower. As they rode the elevator up, he helped her strap into the suit and tried to explain to her how to use the orbs to increase her speed with the batons.

“You'll get the hang of it really quickly, trust me,” he assured.

The elevator reached the top and the two of them darted out onto the platform. Braya gasped upon seeing the sky. It was a torrid, angry gray swirled with ugly clouds. She couldn't see the sun—everything was just one mass of gray. It looked completely different than the manufactured sky they'd just been sitting under, of the soft, light blue, and puffy white clouds.

“We need to go that way,” Asher said, pointing somewhere to his right. She was horrible with directions, and he seemed to know it, prompting his next statement. “Just follow me. If something happens, throw one of your orbs at me and I'll stop.”

Braya nodded. She wasn't in the right state of mind to complain. Her worry for Aspen was growing stronger by the minute, and making her less attuned to what she was doing as a result. He'd been in the hospital once before, with a broken leg. When she'd shown outward concern for him, her mother had scolded her, claiming that males were idiots and clumsy, and she should feel no remorse for her brother's accident. But now Braya couldn't help but feel that was wrong—everything that her mother had ever told her, it might all be wrong.

Not only that, but had he had the chance to speak to Leraphone yet? He'd promised he would after her bizarre declaration that there was no cure for Bellamine. All these things swirled around in her mind like a mist, and Braya found it harder to concentrate on rowing through the air in result.

Asher had been right, though. She quickly got the hang of it. At first, Braya couldn't help but feel ridiculous flapping through the air with the batons as leverage. She had felt like a bird whose wings had grown in backward. But seeing Asher disappear further in the distance had scared her into changing her form. Asher didn't look like he was flapping at all—no—the deep, wide movements made it seem like he were propelling a boat through a thick, heavy mass of water, and once Braya matched the same design of his movements, she found herself catching up to him. It took less effort to row than it did flap, and Braya discovered she liked it. The long, measured strokes were rhythmic and calming. She nearly forgot about her anxiety for Aspen.
Nearly
being the operative word.

The tower they exited at was only ten minutes from the hospital. After hiding their gear under a car that looked like it had been sitting in that one spot for years, the two of them sprinted to the hospital. They made it in three minutes, and nearly crumpled against the reception desk in exhaustion.