Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(7)
“You came all the way down here to see me and you’re not even going to say hello?” Daniel asks when the silence has stretched.
I open my mouth to answer, but shut it again before I can make my voice work. He is staring at me now, his bucket of bathwater momentarily forgotten. Even in the dim lighting, I can see the spark in his eyes. It is the same spark he wore in the parlor the last time I saw him, when he tried to—
“I am Ven,” I say. “Not … her.”
More splashing and dripping. More silence.
And then, “I know who you are,” he says softly.
His mattress creaks as he presses his hands down against it and pushes himself to his feet. I freeze. Maybe if I’m very still, he’ll stay there and I can stay here and—
“I was wrong last time,” he says, his steps excruciatingly steady as he approaches.
I let my hair fall into my eyes and stare at his feet, willing them to stop. I don’t know what he was wrong about, but I don’t care. I only want him to stay back. I stare at his hands swinging at his sides. Hands that are free to touch me wherever they want until Titus finally decides to unlock the door. And then something inside my brain clicks and I know what I have to do to save myself.
Information. Titus wants it. Daniel has it.
I clear my throat and my knees buckle at the pain it causes. Titus may have stopped suffocating me in time, but the pain from my crushed throat feels like death. I stumble back three steps until I hit the wall, uncaring that it’s dirty and gross against my designer dress. The wall holds me up where my own limbs cannot.
I will my voice to work but it comes out hoarse, no more than a whisper. “What were you wrong about?” I ask.
Daniel is almost in front of me, dragging a pair of threadbare slippers across the floor with each step. I force my eyes up to his, silently begging him to answer. To talk to me instead of … whatever else he is thinking of doing.
He doesn’t answer right away and there’s something different in his expression now that he’s close. Something that wasn’t there during our last encounter. For a moment, he is just a boy. Torn and broken and in love with a memory of something he can’t quite grasp. In that instant, the memory has won over the villain, and I exhale in relief. I am unafraid, even when he leans so close I can smell his breath and I recoil from the stale odor of personal hygiene forgotten.
“You are you,” he says.
My brows knit as I try to understand his words that are perplexing in their simplicity.
He raises his hand and I flinch away, but he only slides his fingertips over my collarbone. His hand brushes my hair aside and traces a trail around the side of my neck to my tattoo—the tree that is the symbol of Twig City and my seven-digit identification number, a mark that proves I am something not quite human.
“Four-two-six-six-two-five-six,” he reads in a soft voice. “You are most certainly you.”
My skin tingles with goose bumps where he touches. I shiver and he removes his hand, the tips of his fingers hovering so close I can sense him even after his touch is gone. I tip my head so that I can see into his eyes and my stomach rolls with nerves and the intensity of the moment. This is not the Daniel I knew. This Daniel is compassionate and caring. This Daniel is lucid.
“He hurt you,” he whispers.
It’s not a question, but I dip my chin once in a nod. When I raise it again, he hooks a finger underneath my jaw and tilts it up so that he can inspect my throat. A deep frown creases the edges of his mouth. It is the first sign of unhappiness he’s shown. My breath slows and I am completely on edge as I wait for his next move. He tips my face back down so that we are eye to eye again and leans in, his lips near my ear.
“I won’t give them up. No matter what he does to me, their secret is safe,” he whispers.
“Why?” I can’t help but ask.
“For you. For all of the yous there are. But especially for her.” He presses his lips to my neck and before I can answer or react to the gesture, he straightens and steps back.
The odd sparkle in his eye returns along with a crooked smirk on his lips. Fear curls inside the pit of my stomach. The Daniel I knew is back.
“What I can’t figure out is whether you’re here as a punishment or a reward,” he says loudly. The innuendo is clear and I shiver again, this time with more trepidation than before. It dawns on me that his kiss from a moment ago felt a hundred times more harmless than the tone he is using now. I can’t figure out why. Or what he’s playing at, because it’s clear he’s playing. Only, I don’t know the game. Or the rules.
“Are you here to interrogate me, little Ven?” he asks with laughter in his voice.
“No,” I say. Not because it’s true but because I know I have to say something. Titus is watching. And Daniel just made a whispered promise that I don’t want to give away just yet. My thoughts race at the “her” he meant. Was it his mother? Or the other Raven? The one that came before me? The one he swears he loves? It doesn’t matter. He’s promising silence and in exchange, I allow our game to continue.
I force myself not to glance at the mirrored wall over Daniel’s shoulder. “I’m here to offer comfort,” I say.
Daniel laughs. It is a harsh sound, promising something even harsher to come, but for some reason, I am not afraid like I was before. “Mmm, is that what we’re going to call it?” he asks. “Tell me, what exactly are you willing to do to make me feel better?”