Nightingale (The Sensitives) Part 20

"No. It's just...don't you think there's something odd about him? He won't look at me directly."

She rolls her eyes. "No. He's a servant. He does servant-y things. He minds his own business and only speaks when spoken to."

With a dramatic sigh, she falls back into the stack of pillows. "Why didn't you tell me what it felt like?" she squeals. "You left out all the good parts!"

I cringe. She wants to talk about s.e.x. And I so don't.

"It's private. I don't need to know."

"At first I was a little scared, but that's normal right? And then Maz was all, 'Here, let me help you with that.'" She hugs a pillow to her chest. "Once he touched my bare skin it was all we could do to make it to the bed." She giggles. "Anyway, we didn't leave our room until Ryker showed up."

I drag my foot across the plush carpet and swallow. "That's nice."

"Are you getting nervous about your binding? I mean, it's only in name so it won't feel the same or anything, right? How are you going to keep Ryker from finding out about you and Beck?"

Bang. Bang. Bang. She just doesn't stop. Be quiet Kyra, please.

And like that, she does.

Much better.

I rub the back of my hand slowly. "Ryker knows."

She gapes at me. "And he's okay with it? You...and Beck...and..."

"And what?" I growl.

She clears her throat. "Well, I thought maybe you'd pretend the whole Beck thing didn't happen. Make a fresh start."

I curl my hands into fists and focus on slowing the anger simmering inside me. "Beck and I happened. Nothing will ever change that."

Kyra sticks out her bottom lip. "I'm sorry, I thought maybe you liked Ryker. More than as a friend." Disappointment fills her voice. "Especially with the way the two of you keep sneaking off and having secret conversations."

She bats her eyes and tries to look hopeful.

I sigh. "I'm trying. I promise I am." I glance out the window. The fog has completely obscured everything outside. "I should go."

"Oh, all right. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

As fast as I can in high heels, I run down the stairs. Before I can tell Annalise we're leaving, Tom's by my side, holding my coat open and waiting for me to slip my arms in. Like earlier, my pulse races and my throat goes dry.

This time, when I turn my head up toward his, my eyes meet his deep brown ones. It's like there's nothing else in this room except the two of us. My empty sh.e.l.l of a heart explodes against my ribs.

Tom tilts his head slightly to the left and his eyes linger on my face.

He shouldn't be looking at me like this. I know he shouldn't. It's not proper.

And yet, when the back of his hand caresses my cheek, my blood sings for him. Or more correctly, my magic does. It whirls frantically until all I hear is the rus.h.i.+ng of blood through my body and the sound of Tom's labored breathing.

Tom's lips part slightly and I reach up to kiss him.

At the last second, I back away with tears in my eyes. I have to get out of here before I do something stupid.

Something that could ruin everything.

Something that could expose Beck.

19.

I land in Mother's garden. My hands shake and I force them into the pockets of my coat. I should have known after Henry said Beck came to find me that he'd do something like this.

Breathe, Lark. Don't lose control now. But that's exactly what's happening. My mind fuzzes over and all I can think of is Beck and how, for the first time since leaving Summer Hill, I don't feel empty.

I kick at the wall until my toes ache. d.a.m.n him. d.a.m.n him. d.a.m.n him.

What is he thinking?

Scratch that. He isn't thinking. That's obvious. If he were, he never would have touched me. Not with Annalise, Kyra, and Ryker so close.

Panic builds in me. Does Beck not know how dangerous it is for him to be near Ryker? I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. How can I keep him safe if he insists on doing stupid things?

"Is everything okay?"

Dawson places a strong, firm hand on my back near my shoulder. Like Annalise, he can sense my mental state through physical contact. Lying is useless.

Choose your words carefully. With a deep breath, I compose myself and select a suitable answer. "I'm nervous about the binding. That's all."

Dawson's hand slides off my shoulder and I turn around to face my older guard. How he ever came to be in security is a mystery. He seems more like an academic with his quiet demeanor and serious nature. And yet, Annalise claims he's the most lethal of my guards.

A quiet rustling is followed by Annalise stepping out of the shadows. The vein in her neck bulges, but her eyes are filled with worry. "Do not ever leave without me. Do you understand?"

I nod.

"What happened? One minute my wristlet shows you in the foyer and the next, without telling me, you're gone."

I hang my head, hoping that it will draw attention away from my trembling hands. "Kyra was telling me about her binding night. And then...I don't know. I had to leave."

Annalise b.u.t.tons her cream colored coat to her throat. She turns her head toward the house. Every window glows. "It's been a long day. Why don't you go in for the evening?"

With heavy legs, I start down the pebble path.

"I thought Oliver was on duty tonight?" Annalise says to Dawson.

"Callum."

It's one word. But it's enough to cause Annalise to fly past me, into the house. I turn around to ask Dawson what's going on, but my guard shakes his head.

Looks like I'm not the only one in my family keeping secrets.

I climb the stairs to my room and collapse in a heap on the bed. I don't bother changing or was.h.i.+ng my face. After the past twenty-four hours, it's amazing I can even function.

d.a.m.n it, Beck. Why are you here? It's not safe.

I half-expect him to answer me, but there's nothing. Maybe I'm wrong? Perhaps Tom is just Tom and he has a terrible sense of humor.

But I know that's not likely. The only person who's ever made me feel like that is Beck.

I kick off my shoes and climb under the heavy duvet.

Beck is here. And I need to keep him safe. But how can I do that when all I want is to be with him?

The house is quiet. I press my ear to my bedroom door once more, just to make sure, and slowly crack the door open. Other than a faint light at the far end of the hallway, it's dark.

I creep down the stairs, clutching a small bag. Once at the bottom, I scuttle through the foyer to the front room and close the door behind me. Dawson and at least one of Mother's guards must be awake somewhere in the house, which means I need to do this quickly.

I run my hand over my bare wrist. It's important I'm not tracked or heard, but not having my wristlet feels strange.

The French doors to the patio are locked. I hold my breath as I pull the key pin and swing it open. When no alarm goes off, I exhale and slip outside.

The garden is still. The scent of night-blooming jasmine wafts around me and moonlight casts long, eerie shadows.

I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one else is around and transport.

Into the hospital lobby.

Wonderful. So much for trying to be stealth.

A lone healer sits at the reception desk. Her head pops up, and seeing that it's me, waves me through.

Thankfully no one else is here, or I'd be in trouble. Or at least more than I'm going to be if Mother finds out about this.

Once I'm on the third floor, I run to Eloise's room. As I suspected, Henry is still here. And still wearing his filthy clothes.

I stand over my uncle and gently shake his arm. "Henry?"

He stirs and his eyes flutter open.

"Henry, I need to talk to you."

He clears his throat and yawns. "What time is it?"

"About three in the morning."

That wakes him up. "Where's Annalise? Or one of the other ones?"

"No one knows I'm here." I hand him the bag I'm holding. "I brought you a change of clothes. They're Callum's, I think. I found them in a guest bedroom."

"Thank you." He places the bag on the ground next to his chair. "What's so important that you snuck out in the middle of the night?"

His blue wristlet draws my attention. Mother was kind enough to remove the red one. I slip my sweater off and silently wrap it around his hand. It probably won't knock out all of our conversation, but it should m.u.f.fle it enough to make it hard to understand what we're saying.

When I'm satisfied with my handiwork, I stoop so that my mouth is close to Henry's ear. "Is Beck an illusionist?"

He nods.

I knew it. d.a.m.n him.

Henry catches my hand. "Do you know where he is?"

"I think so." Our voices are barely more than a series of soft breaths.

My uncle cups his hand over his mouth and his eyes cloud over. Neither of us speak. Outside Eloise's room, a healer hurries past, the patter of their shoes taps out the pa.s.sing seconds.

Finally, Henry bites his lip and turns his attention to me. "I never thought I'd say this, but you need to stay away from him."

I don't take Henry's advice.

Like a wild animal, I pace outside Kyra's darkened home.

Beck's in there. Sleeping. Most likely hidden away in the body of a man twice his age.

I could walk up to the door and ring the buzzer. He'd have to answer. It's his job.

Mist swirls around me, dampening my hair. I curl my fingers around the metal gate. It anchors me in place.

A soft rustling draws my attention away from the house and to a spot just down the concrete walkway that runs along the side. Three distinct shadows move toward the back of the house. I slouch down against the gate, pressing myself deeper into the dark recesses.

Their voices carry to me. Soft, half-hidden whispers, but still loud enough for me to recognize them. Maz, Ryker...and Beck.

I claw at my chest, trying to keep my wild heart under control.

He's so close.

Lark?