House of Strife (Poisoned Houses Book 4) Page 14

  He glances over his shoulder again, his voice dropping. “He’s been talking about sending me to one of the reproduction facilities to register my DNA.”

  My lips move, but words don’t come out for a moment. Declan voiced this as a possibility before, but it was years away from being a reality. At last, I find my voice. “He can’t do that. You’re not old enough.”

  The law is firm that the age of majority is twenty, which is why both Declan and I planned to wait until we turned twenty to run away. Any time before that and our families would just have us dragged back.

  “He can once our parent’s death becomes public. Dominick’s sterile. The city will make an exception to guarantee our line is preserved.” Declan’s expression turns grim. “Once my DNA is on file, Dominick doesn’t even need to keep me around except as a backup. He’s being generous in honoring our parents’ wishes to have me as his secretary.”

  The words come out bitter with the pattern of repeating something he’s heard more than once.

  “We were talking about that on Monday as a possible lead. What would happen if the Arrington line all died off? Are you sure there aren’t any forgotten relatives who could step in and take over your council seat?”

  He shakes his head. “When Dominick was born with health issues, the genealogists looked into that option before approving my parents to have a second child. There was a distant uncle, but he passed away the year before Dominick was born, without having children of his own. We’re the last of the Arringtons.”

  “Which is why they’ll let Dominick send you for DNA registration early.” The thought rolls my stomach. How can it be legal to force someone into that at another person’s go ahead? It’s like Declan isn’t even a person to his brother. No wonder he wants to escape so badly.

  A new worry rears up, and I grip the palm-port tighter. "Dec, have you checked your accounts? Your personal ones?"

  Some of the tension eases from his expression, and he nods. "Yeah, after what happened with yours, I went in personally. Everything is still there. I use Leton First Bank, where Mr. Black can't touch my credits. My parents helped set it up when I turned fifteen and gave me complete autonomy over it. They wanted me to learn budgeting and how to handle finances, so my monthly stipend goes directly in there, and I pay all of my own school fees."

  His lips twist in displeasure. "I'm sure, once Dominick is fully back on his feet, he'll be reviewing the house accounts and pull back on how much I receive, but what's in there will get me out of Leton and pay for a living unit on Level 5 in Roen. I'll have enough left to cover me for a year if I'm frugal. By then, I'll hopefully have a job."

  He has everything planned out.

  My chest hurts, and I fight the sting in my eyes. He really plans to leave. "What will you do for a job?"

  He shrugs. "I'll have a two-year degree from APA, and I'm good at science. Hopefully, I can gain an internship and do something with that."

  My breath catches, and I blink quickly. "Why didn't you tell Connor and Felix you were going?"

  Sadness fills his eyes. "Connor would have told Felix. I wouldn't have expected him to keep something like that from him. And Felix..." Declan glances away. "He wasn't going to come with me, he'd never leave Leton, and he would have broken things off with me. I was being selfish."

  "Because you love him," I whisper.

  "Yeah, I do.” He shifts to sit on the floor, the light from the bathroom casting him in shadows. “But I didn’t go into our relationship, or whatever the hell it can be called, with those feelings. And once they formed, I thought the same would happen with him, but he keeps me at arm’s length. He went through some bad stuff as a kid, and it makes him wary of getting attached.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about that.” His eyes widen in surprise, and I add, “Connor told me, and I’ve talked about it a little with Felix, but he…”

  “Doesn’t like to talk about it,” Declan fills in. “I honestly thought, that’s just how Felix was. That, after I left, he’d miss me for a couple weeks, then move on. But then you came along, and I realized he was willing to open up with you, to try to change, and that I’d fucked up how I handled our relationship from the beginning.” He looks away. “I wanted to do better with you, but now that you’re not coming with me, you’re probably on Felix’s side and don’t want anything to do with me.”

  “I have the benefit of having gone into this knowing your plan,” I point out gently. “And whether you’re here or in Roen, we were always going to be separated. Now it will just take a shuttle to come see you.”

  A surprised laugh escapes him. “Councilor Lonette is going to hop a shuttle and come visit a poor science technician on Level 5?”

  “It won’t be easy, but I’m willing to work with what we have.” I drop the teasing tone. “And I don’t think you fucked up going into your relationship. I think you were exactly what Felix needed you to be at the time. You made it possible for him to want to be in a romantic relationship. You just have to get him to realize he’s already in one with you, too. That’s not going to be easy, though. He’s super pissed at you right now.”

  Declan snorts. “Yeah, he made that much obvious.”

  “He wouldn’t be so mad if he didn’t care.” I take a shaky sigh. “The world’s not that big. You not being in Leton isn’t a deal-breaker.”

  “But me not being in the High Houses might be.” When I go to protest, he rushes on. “Whether or not you’re willing to come see me in Roen, whether or not Felix is, leaving Leton means giving up the Arrington name. There’s no other way Dominick’s going to let me go, no matter how old I am. Which means I’ll be a nobody, and you can’t all be seen hanging out with a nobody. It would turn into fodder for the gossip mills.”

  Anger spikes through me. “So, you’ll just give up on us?”

  “No,” he says vehemently. “We’ll figure something out. I’m coming back to APA. We have two more years. I won’t spend that time pretending I don’t want to be with you. Our plans have changed, but that doesn’t mean our feelings have.”

  A weight lifts off my shoulders. He’s right, we have time to figure this out. And maybe Roen isn’t his only option for escaping his brother.

  Power in the Hips

  The next morning passes in a blur of lessons I can’t focus on.

  We’re supposed to work on our term papers after classes to at least keep up the pretense of being serious students. But aside from plucking out all of the parts Garrett contributed to our project, Connor and I have let it go all week, neither of us able to take it seriously.

  Which is why when Felix ditches his research partner, Trevor, after class and kidnaps me to go check out the gym, I don’t resist. Nikola opts to tag along, while Myrrine and Bastian continue on to the library. Connor opts to review more of the surveillance footage Nikola located last night.

  We leave him in Nikola’s room and follow Felix across the campus to the building he pointed out a few days ago.

  I’m not really in the mood to work out, but Felix needs this. Now that I know the signs to look for, I see the restlessness, even when he’s still, and he’s been bristling more at Nikola. He needs to work off his excess energy, and since I don’t want to ask Nikola to fight with him, and I’m not willing to take him to bed yet, to the gym we go.

  As we walk across the grass, my mind sticks on the taking him to bed part. After the encounter under the tree left my breast sore, I know being with Felix would not be the gentle, mutually exploratory passion I share with Connor, and while my body hums with all his touches, I also fear it. I want to chase this passion, this desire that grows inside me with every touch and glance shared between me and my men, but my lack of experience puts me at a disadvantage.

  My gaze falls to his broad shoulders as he runs up the steps to the Fitness Center ahead of us, and I remember the way his muscles rippled under my hands as he moved against me. I’d barely been able to hang on with our clothes firmly in place.

  Right
now, I’m not mentally or emotionally capable of meeting Felix as an equal, and I don’t want anything less for the first time we come together like that.

  As we step into the Fitness Center, the clang of metal fills the air along with the scent of heated bodies, exertion, and sanitizer.

  The first floor holds machines meant for building muscles while a track circles the room on the second floor. A few students run laps, their feet adding a rhythmic tap to the shift and crash of the machines. On the far side, spheres offer an alternative for those who prefer to run with a holographic surrounding.

  A glass separator reveals a room to the left dedicated to other cardio alternatives, where more students pedal or stair-step their way through their daily routine. Another glass partition offers balance beams and rock-climbing walls.

  Far more sophisticated than I expected, but I guess APA wants to promote health of the body in any method students are willing to take.

  Felix reaches back to grasp my hand, pulling me toward a hall on the right. “This way.”

  The stinging scent of minerals fills the corridor. Somewhere down here, there’s a soaking pool, but I doubt that’s Felix’s aim. While I might find it relaxing to let hot water loosen the knots in my body, the heat would probably just make Felix even more restless.

  “We’re not using the machines?” I ask as I glance back at Nikola, who follows behind us.

  He wears the same outfit as Felix, but his body fills it out in a different way that is no less appealing. His dark eyes glint as one black brow lifts, and I turn back to Felix.

  “I’m not in the mood for weights.” Then Felix spins to face me, and I almost run into him. “Unless you’d prefer—”

  I grip his waist, fingers flexing against the firm muscles, and turn him back around. “Show me the way you work out. I’m here for you.”

  He glances back over his shoulder, his expression soft before his focus shifts past me. “And what are you here for?”

  “You’re not the only one who’d like to burn off excess energy,” Nikola murmurs.

  Felix’s eyes narrow. “Sure you’re not just acting as a chaperone?”

  I poke him in the side to get him moving. “Stop it or I’m going back to the weight room.”

  Without another word, he turns back around, and we continue on.

  As I thought, we pass a room with a fogged glass door, the mineral scent stronger here. I might come here after my workout with Felix to relax.

  Felix stops at the next door and waves a hand over the sensor attached to the wall. It swishes open to reveal a mat covered room with a large boxing ring in the center. On the right, rows of padded rectangles rise from the floor.

  Unlike the front area, no one else uses this room, a fact I’m grateful for since I have no idea what to do here.

  Felix bounces on his toes, excitement in every step as he leads us over to the padded rectangles. “Have you ever used one of these?”

  I shake my head as I eye the simple-looking setup. A bar rises from the floor, with heavy padding on top.

  Farther down the row, the rectangles turn into cylinders spaced farther apart, which I assume is for more range of movement. Since we’re in a room with a boxing ring, I can guess these are made for punching and kicking.

  “Here, I’ll demonstrate, then help you set yours up.” Felix releases me to go to the wall behind the machines and pulls out a pair of half gloves that only cover the lower half his fingers and his knuckles. He makes two fists, then taps them together, and a green light shines out from his palms. “These help reduce the risk of breaking your fist and also gauge how powerful your punch is. If your form is wrong, the green light will turn red until you correct yourself. They link up to the machine you work with, which will adjust to your strength.”

  He approaches the padded rectangle on the end and steps on a panel on the floor. A low hum fills the air as the panel glows yellow.

  He glances back at me. “To calibrate it, you simply give the pad your most powerful punch, one from each hand. It will record your motion and strength level and adjust to fit.”

  As he turns to face the faux-opponent, the vibrating energy that leaks off him pulls inward, his concentration narrowing. In a fluid roll of hip and shoulder, his right arm flies forward, fist connecting with the pad. It sweeps backward, and a clicking noise fills the room as it slides back to its original position.

  Felix switches his stance, and the next punch comes from his left side.

  The machine doesn’t rock backward as far this time, and when it returns to its starting position, it dings, the panel on the ground turning green.

  Felix steps back, hands dropping to his sides as he turns back to face me. “Once it’s calibrated, you can either just wail on it or you can put it on spar mode. You probably want to start out just wailing on it until you learn how to punch. You can work on aiming after that.”

  I gesture back at the machine. “Show me spar mode.”

  He grins, bounces on his toes a couple times, then taps the floor panel twice before he steps back up to the machine.

  For a moment, it looks the same. Then a green light appears in the center. Felix’s fist flies forward, connecting with the light, and it vanishes only to reappear higher up. He connects with that one, too, and the one in the lower half of the machine when it jumps position. He moves with fluid grace, sweeping from one position to the next as if he senses where the light will next appear.

  “He’s good,” Nikola murmurs from behind me, and the heat of his body seeps in through my thin exercise outfit. “He has training.”

  “Yes,” I breathe, unable to take my eyes away from him.

  He’s like energy given form, his jabs picking up speed as the machine learns his ability and pushes him to move faster. The green lights in his hands stream through the air in a mesmerizing pattern of fluid grace.

  Why would his parents deny him this outlet? I’ve never been one to watch sports outside of disc-bike racing, but Felix looks so natural here, in his element, all that excess energy given purpose. With the right trainer and the right support, he could probably compete – if children of the High Houses were allowed to indulge in such base entertainment.

  My chest aches for the restrictions that prevent Felix from reaching his full potential. As Connor’s Secretary, he’ll be stunted, his talents wasted.

  After a couple minutes, he steps back, a grin on his face when he turns to face us. Gone are the tension around his eyes and mouth and the anger simmering in the depths of his green eyes. He looks happy, truly happy, and it takes my breath away.

  Have I ever seen him look like this? I’ve seen him happy before, but never this free. Like he’s finally released everything that weighs him down.

  He strides back to us, his steps light. “Ready to try?”

  “Yeah.” Uncertain, I eye the machine. I’ve never punched anything seriously and resign myself to looking foolish. “But I think I’ll stick with the wailing on it option.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Felix reassures me as he jogs over and grabs me a pair of gloves. He throws a second set at Nikola, who snatches them from the air without effort.

  I slip on the small gloves, expecting them to feel loose on my hands, but they tighten around my knuckles with a surprising grip. Forming fists, I bump them together the way Felix did, then frown when no light appears.

  Nikola reaches over. “There are actual buttons. He was just showing off.”

  His fingers skim along the bare skin on the back of my hand, following the line of the gloves, until he reaches the side of my pointer finger. There, he presses on a small rubber dome, and green light fills my palms.

  He traces back over my hands, his hands covering mine.

  Heat spreads up my arms, my pulse spiking.

  Seemingly unaware of his effect on me, he studies Felix. “Have you ever shown someone how to punch before?”

  Felix shakes his black, wavy hair from his eyes. “It’s not that difficult.”


  Nikola’s thumbs sweep over the back of my wrist in soothing circles while his fingers stroke my racing pulse out of Felix’s view.

  The asshole knows exactly what he’s doing to me, but his face remains passive as he focuses on Felix. “If you don’t teach her correctly, she can break her hand.”

  “I vote for not breaking my hand,” I offer, my pulse spiking for a whole new reason.

  Felix rolls his eyes. “As long as she doesn’t tuck her thumbs, she’ll be fine. These machines are practically baby proof.”

  I open my fists before anyone comments on my tucked thumbs. In my defense, it made my fists feel bigger.

  “Here, we’ll do a couple practice punches before she takes on the machine.” Felix waves me over.

  Pulling free of Nikola’s grasp with a mingled sense of loss and relief, I walk over to stand in front of Felix.

  He makes a spinning motion with his finger. “No, face the other way.”

  I turn as directed. My eyes lock with Nikola’s where he stands right in front of me.

  Felix’s hand settles on my hip, his body molding to my back. “Form a fist.”

  My breath catches at the feel of him against me. We’ve slept side-by-side many times, with me in the position to hold him, and I’ve felt the weight of his body on mine. But this is a new position, my ability to dictate our actions vanishing as he moves me into the position he desires. It feels more intimate than anything else we’ve done as he takes complete control of me.

  Suddenly, I’m glad Myrrine didn’t join us. Between Nikola and Felix, I’m sure I’m emitting chemistry all over the place.

  “Concentrate, Caitlyn,” Nikola reminds me, his voice soft and gaze steady. “You don’t want to hurt yourself in the first attempt.”

  I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Like this?”

  I hold my hands up in fists, and the green lights in my palms flash red. Confused, I turn my hands back and forth. My thumbs are on the outside this time, just like they said they should be.