Your One & Only(44)

“Carson—”

He was falling into her now, and she felt his desperation—he wanted to possess her in some way. His grip bruised. She was about to call for help when the trees above them shook and a form dropped from the heavy branches, landing in a crouch behind Carson.

“Jack!” Althea said with a surge of relief. Carson whipped around to face him.

“Get away from her,” Jack said, his voice gentle, even as a sharp, knowing smile played across his lips.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Carson growled.

Carson charged, but Jack dodged him with a nimble step. Althea scurried out of the way as Carson snarled and leveled a punch at Jack’s face. This time instead of dodging, Jack seized Carson’s fist as it came at him and at the same time slammed the heel of his palm into Carson’s throat, knocking him down. Carson rolled onto his back and gasped for air. Jack slid an arrow from a sheath on his back that Althea hadn’t noticed before. He nocked it in a bow that had been slung around his shoulder faster than Althea’s eyes could follow. It was pointed at Carson, who was looking up from the ground, the razor-sharp tip inches from his nose.

“Jack, what are you doing?” she said.

He paid no attention. With the tip of the arrow, he indicated the scar bisecting Carson’s eyebrow, his mouth twitching up. “Where’d you get this?”

“You know, you bastard,” Carson wheezed, holding his throat and glaring at Jack. “I should have killed you that day. It’d save the Council the trouble of putting you down now.”

Jack gave him a grin. “Wouldn’t have helped.”

“Jack, let him go,” Althea said. “They’ll kill you! Samuel won’t be able to stop them, not if you hurt Carson again.”

Jack’s narrowed eyes darted to Althea.

To Carson, Jack said, “I want you to tell the Council something. Think you can handle that, clone?”

“Screw you,” Carson spat.

Jack’s smile remained fixed as he flicked the point of the arrow up, cutting across Carson’s unscarred eyebrow. Carson gave a shrill cry, pressing his hand to the sliced skin. Blood oozed between his fingers. Jack cocked his head to the side as if considering his craftsmanship.

“A matching pair,” he said.

Althea was frozen in place, trapped in a nightmare. Carson’s blood glazed the stones in the path.

“You’re so dead,” Carson said, swiping blood from his eyes.

The laughter left Jack’s face. It had never reached his eyes anyway. He kicked Carson’s nose with the heel of his boot. Carson screamed in pain, and Althea reeled back.

Jack kicked again, this time hitting Carson’s ribs. “Tell the Council I’m not in a cage anymore,” he said. “I can hurt them as easily as I hurt you. Got that, clone?”

On his hands and knees, Carson retched onto the dirt path, blood pouring from his nose, and saliva from his mouth.

“Tell them—” He gasped wetly. “Tell them yourself, freak.”

Jack lazily shoved him over with his boot so Carson fell sideways, grunting heavily and clutching his side.

Dismissing Carson as useless, Jack acknowledged Althea for the first time. “What about you? Tell the Council what I said.”

“Jack, I . . . What are you doing? How could you?” Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them back. What had they done to him?

His clothes were wrong. He wore a leather vest and dark, narrow boots. She was used to seeing him in the same clothes as the rest of them, the soft colors and loose cottons. A fierce, unfamiliar light shone in his eyes, wild and brutal.

“You,” he said, considering her. “An Althea.”

Althea could only nod. Tears streamed down her face.

“You’re scaring me, Jack.” Saying the words made her think of Nyla, and she felt a throb of guilt that perhaps her friend had been right about Jack and she hadn’t listened.

The dangerous smile played again on his lips.

He came close to her, his movements swift and lithe. He buried his hand in her hair and grasped the back of her neck so she couldn’t move. “The Carson was right. You do like him,” he said.

“Who?” she asked stupidly, and then he was kissing her. Thinking to push him away, she pressed her palms on his shirt and felt the control beneath, his muscles tense and strong. He wrapped his arm around her waist and crushed her against him, lifted her until her feet grazed the ground. With his other hand, he caressed her face, a feather-light finger trailing down her ear, playful and mocking.

Althea couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her own fingers reached up in numb reaction, touching his hand as it slid down the side of her neck. Something wasn’t right. The skin of his hand was gnarled and leathery. It twisted up his arm, unnaturally smooth, scarred as if from a long-ago burn. He smelled of wood ash and skinned animals. She sucked in a breath and pulled away, staring into his ocean-gray eyes, Jack’s eyes, but feral and feverishly bright.

“Who are you?” she said in a tremulous voice.

“Don’t you know?” His breath was hot in her ear. “I’m the snake in the garden.”

He winked, and his hand slipped into the pocket of her dress. The heat of his skin against her thigh burned through the fabric and she closed her eyes, catching her breath at the intimate contact.