Renegade (The Elysium Chronicles #1)(46)

I split them evenly, and then heft the first bag and sling it over my other bag.

Gavin does the same, grunting a little. He turns to me. “These are heavy. How the hell did you lift them?”

“This is nothing. Can’t weigh more than a few kilos, I’m sure. I saw you move those boxes; you should have no problems lifting it.”

“How do you know all this?” he asks, gesturing to his Reising. “The guns?

“I—” I stare at him, then the gun in his hands. “I don’t know. I guess it’s another thing I have to figure out what it means.” Not again. I rub my fingers over the pendant, hoping for even just a spark of a memory.

“Why are you doing that?” he asks, staring at my pendant.

“I don’t remember where I got this,” I say softly. From my memory with the perfume, I have an idea. But the actual memory itself, right now, is lost. I run my fingers over it, then take it back and curl my hand around it, letting the chain dangle from between my fingers. “But sometimes, when I realize I’m forgetting things, I can start getting some of the memories back, if I concentrate on this long enough. Certain scents are the same way. Not all memories. Maybe not even most. But I have to hope it’ll be enough and one day, I’ll remember everything.”

I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin, waiting for the look, but instead he wraps his hands around mine over the pendant. “And I’ll do whatever I can to help you remember who you are.”

*



A few minutes later, we walk into the Residential area of this abandoned Sector. The elevator still works, so we close the gate and push the button for the topmost floor. At first it does nothing, but then with a jerk it rushes up. At the top floor we let ourselves into one of the apartments farthest from the elevators. None of the doors are locked and again I wonder if it’s because Mother plans on filling this place with people from Three.

These apartments are exactly like the ones that are in Sector Two. It amazes me how well they’ve held up over the years. The only damage is a blanket of dust and a few spider webs. The couch is in perfect shape, as is the wood on the end tables and the flat screen television in the corner. It looks so strange sitting where the holo-projector should be. I want to turn it on, to see if it’s one of those 3-D ones that were so popular before the holos, but there’s no time.

I show Gavin to the bathroom, which is all gray granite, and cross my fingers when I twist the handle of the shower. After a few long seconds where nothing happens, water rushes out and pounds against the granite of the shower stall. There isn’t any soap or shampoo, and the water is barely above freezing, but he’ll be able to rinse off all the dirt at least.

I hear Gavin’s cursing as he steps under the spray and can’t help but laugh.

While he showers, I go through the wardrobe in the sleeping quarters to find suitable clothes for him and myself. Looking like me isn’t going to help me anymore. Neither is looking like the Daughter of the People.

I’m in luck. It looks like a family lived here. Or at least a Couple. There is a full selection of clothes that should fit Gavin. I pull out a pair of slate gray slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a tie that matches the slacks. They should cover his skin nicely.

Then I slip into a summer dress. It’s a little short, but other than that it fits like it was made for me. It’s also made from cotton, so I won’t stick out as much as if I were wearing my silk dress.

I find a pair of black leather sandal wedges that I can run in if I need to, then I gather up Gavin’s clothes and step into the bathroom to set them on the counter for him.

In a classic case of worst possible timing, he steps out of the shower just as I look up from the clothes. My jaw drops and I have to force myself to shut it. I can’t help it—my eyes travel the whole lovely way from his muscled shoulders to his stomach and back up again. Water slides gloriously over every muscle, causing them to glisten in the lights.

I’m barely aware that I’m staring until he says, “Enjoying the view?”

Heat rushes into me and I blush from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. I quickly avert my gaze to the wall behind him. “I’m so sorry. I just meant to drop off your clothes for you. I, uh, I’ll see you … out there … when you’re finished.”

I rush out the door on shaky legs. The minute I hit the living room, I lower myself to the couch and stare off into space.

Oh, Mother. My mind keeps replaying what I just saw. Wavy, golden hair. Thick muscular chest, hard, toned abs. Bronzed skin. And … I shake my head. That is not something I should be thinking about.

I fan a hand in front of my face. It feels hot, like someone has raised the temperature a good twenty degrees.

I pick up the journal to try to read it while I wait, but I can’t concentrate. The only thing I can think of is Gavin.

He steps into the doorway between the living room and bedroom. I stand up quickly, embarrassed to be caught thinking about him, and the journal drops to the floor with a thud.

He gives me a look, then holds out the tie. “I’m not wearing this,” he says, as if daring me to argue.

He looks even better wearing the clothes I gave him. I can’t help myself. I find my legs carrying me across the floor to him.

I’m not even sure what I’m doing. Why I’m doing it. But I want to, need to.