Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(79)

“Short and sweet,” I say.

“That’s how I roll,” he says, then wanders off to talk with Harrison and Ryan.



Chloe lies next to me on the floor, her head resting on my leg as she sleeps. I watch out a window and listen to the crashing of waves. Coney Island’s electricity was knocked out by the first tidal wave and was never reconnected. For the first time in my life, the light pollution that kept the sky a dim yellow is replaced by galactic majesty. I see stars! It’s every bit as beautiful as the Texas version.

It’s almost amazing enough to make me forget the dramatic temperature drop that came when the sun went down. The wind is bitter and biting, and when it blows through the open windows, it howls in my ears. There’s not much in the way of blankets, and though the White Tower jumpsuits and jackets are padded, the children and I are freezing. For all of Doyle’s training, he didn’t prepare them for a frosty night by the ocean. Jackson hands out little red packs filled with something that feels like sand. When you shake them, they get hot, so I tell everyone to shove them in their boots and gloves. Finn puts one under his cap. It’s silly, but he says he feels better.

“You need a break?” my mother asks, gesturing to Chloe.

I look down at my sleeping sidekick and nod. My mother cradles her up in her arms, careful not to wake her.

“How is Dad?” I ask.

“Stubborn,” she says. “We need to get him out of here. This was not a good place to bring him or Bex.”

“I’ll talk to Jackson,” I say. “They didn’t give us much of a choice when we arrived.”

She takes the little girl away. I stretch out my legs and try to rub the feeling back into them, only to find that Arcade is standing over me. She looks restless and frustrated, basically how she looks all the time. I feel the pull of her missing hand, but I keep my eyes on her face.

“I know you hate waiting,” I say as sympathetically as I can. “I think we should let Kita come up with a plan.”

“The soldiers are fighting bravely. That is good enough for me,” she says as she kneels down next to me. With her back against the wall, she stares in the opposite direction as me. It’s uncomfortably close. Maybe not if she were Bex or, well, anyone else for that matter, but it’s an invasion of my personal space for someone who recently tried to kill me.

“My problem is with you,” she says.

“Are you going to kill me?” I ask.

Arcade shakes her head, but in the dark I can’t see if her face is as sincere as the gesture.

“What’s the Alpha punishment for a person who tries to steal your boyfriend?”

“Death.”

“Then you are going to kill me? Should I have been more specific? Are you going to kill me sometime in the future?”

“I seek to understand you,” Arcade whispers to me.

“I’m not sure I can help you with that,” I tell her. “I don’t understand myself most of the time.”

“You have rejected him?”

I look out the window to the ocean and wonder if Fathom found his friends.

“I did,” I say.

“I freed him of his obligations to me. The two of you are free to mate.”

“Ugh. What is it with you people and that word?” I grumble. “Do you really want to talk about this?”

She nods.

“He lied to me,” I explain.

“He told you of his plan?”

“Yes, after he manipulated me and used me to help him fight his war, he told me his plan,” I say.

She sits for a long moment as if flipping my side of the story over and over, studying angles and colors she didn’t see before.

“Yes, I didn’t see it in that way. I doubt he did either,” she says. “Our people are not known for avoiding conflicts.”

“I get that,” I confess, “but there’s other stuff too, Arcade. It’s . . . I don’t know how much drama I want in my life. Fathom and I are like fire and gasoline. We’re intense, and we burn really hot, but we’re dangerous. I keep getting scorched. I feel reckless when he’s near me, and I do things I wouldn’t normally do.”

“The mating?”

“Aaargh,” I say. “Keep it down? My dad is right there. You’re going to ruin his life. It’s . . . I knew he was with you, and I didn’t care. I don’t do things like that, not since Stevie Brinks in the third grade.”

“Who?”

I wave her off. “Never mind. It goes against the girl code.”

“You are a liar and a coward,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Um, okay. I thought we were making a little progress—”

“You love him, Lyric Walker, so do not lie. I don’t know what this word ‘drama’ is, but it sounds like something you have invented because you are afraid to feel what you do. Love, like war, is supposed to be overwhelming.”

“When did you turn into a therapist?”

“I know these things. I am a liar and a coward as well. When Fathom and I were children, our fathers committed us to each other. Such arrangements are rare and frequently lead to unhappy unions, but there are greater matters than happiness when it comes to leading an empire. Fathom, for his part, did his best to make our responsibility joyful. We have a deep bond.”