Reactive: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Elite Trials Book 1) Read online

  But Dobson’s dreary voice announced a newcomer and, as he entered, the room and everyone in it became inconsequential. My hand slid to my side. His midnight blue, perfectly-tailored suit made him appear ten feet tall. He dwarfed those around him, who cast openly curious glances his way. Even from this distance, I could see the gold in his eyes as they scanned the length of the room, clearly on a mission, oblivious to everything else.

  An elite’s daughter attempted to snag his attention and he ignored her completely. Her bottom lip protruded as she flounced off. I snorted.

  It was as though he could hear the soft sound I made over the music and chatter of a hundred voices, for his gaze found mine, and there it stayed. His eyes twinkled as if to say, “Mission accomplished.” My breath caught. And then he was navigating the crowd without breaking eye contact and my stomach was doing strange things. He had always been handsome, but tonight? He was beautiful.

  As he neared, his gaze finally left mine and I swallowed, relieved. But a second later, my skin flamed, wholly unprepared for the way he drank in every last inch of me. Bren stopped near enough that I could smell cedar soap and pine and the faint scent of leather on his clean-shaven skin. I wondered what his jaw would feel like now that it was free of stubble.

  His throat bobbed, and I realized that I’d been staring like an idiot. But he was staring, too. Finally, slowly, he released a breath. “Si iam mortuus est, ut et mori beatus vir.” When my brows ticked upward, his grin widened.

  “Care to translate?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Nope. Although, I will say that it hurts to look on such deadly beauty, but the pain is worth it.”

  I flushed even hotter. How could I want to punch him and kiss him at the same time? Wait. My mind caught and analyzed the random thought. Kiss? What do I know of kissing? I had never wanted to kiss anyone before. But now . . . My face was probably the color of a raw beet. If I didn’t stop imagining my lips pressed to his, I would melt into a puddle of wanton stupidity right here, right now.

  Not going to happen.

  A coy smile transformed my mouth and his eyes drifted to it. Stars above, he wasn’t helping matters. “Forgive me for causing you such great pain. Perhaps I shall ease your suffering and leave.” And I did just that. I managed one full step before his hand wrapped around my bicep and whirled me into his arms.

  My breath hitched as every nerve-ending sprang awake.

  His head lowered, those distracting lips near my ear. “Dance with me?”

  I felt eyes on my back—they scrutinized, judged—but I was beginning to care less and less. What could they do to me, really? They could take away your chance at freedom, logic snapped. They could take away everything!

  No. They couldn’t take away everything. They couldn’t take away this moment I so desperately wanted to know. And so, I replied, “Do I have a choice?”

  “You always have a choice,” he whispered. “You just have to be willing to fight for it.”

  Tiny pinpricks of shock skittered up my spine. I pulled back enough to see his smirking face. He knew he’d surprised me by quoting one of my sayings. Apparently, his hearing was as good as his night vision. I returned his smile with one of my own.

  “Then yes, Mr. Bearon, I will dance with you.”

  I’d never been one for shyness but, when he took hold of my wrist and rested my hand on his shoulder, I tensed with the need to disappear. Not to avoid confrontation—more to escape the hailstorm of emotions pelting my sensitive skin. I broke eye contact, his gaze like an unfathomable abyss. It sought to devour me, body and soul, and I couldn’t bear the onslaught.

  He held my other hand in his. When his palm pressed into my lower back, nudging us closer, fluttering wings beat within my stomach. I’d never have imagined someone touching my scarred back could make me feel so wanted. So safe. My feet almost left the floor as we swayed into motion, easily finding our rhythm.

  Even as we softly twirled, I inwardly reeled. How could this boy, this man, who was so wrong for me, feel so right? It seemed like yesterday that he had stolen my free will, but today he was stealing piece after piece of my heart. I was afraid he would take it all. Take everything until I couldn’t picture life without him.

  My poor heart beat triple-time. “You’re ruining everything, Brendan Bearon,” I blurted, not caring that my voice cracked under the pressure.

  “I know.” His response was so unexpected, I blinked up at him. Deep conflict waged war in his eyes but, underneath it all, a longing glimmered dangerously bright. His hand squeezed mine. “I want to change things for good. But sometimes, for things to get better, they first have to get worse.”

  I couldn’t decide if his statement was foreboding or hopeful. Maybe both. Perhaps you can’t have one without the other.

  Before I could think of a reply, a lilting voice spoke quite loudly behind Bren. “Lune, darling, you must stop hogging the new boy all to yourself. I mean, what would father say? I think it’s time our newest citizen gets to socialize with the Supreme Elite’s favorite daughter.” She twittered as if making a joke. But she didn’t make jokes—jokes were beneath her. She was the queen of thinly-veiled insults.

  If it were anyone else, I would have ignored them, but Rose wasn’t to be trifled with. Not now. Not when the first Trial was three days away. I couldn’t afford a beating at this time. So, I stopped and faced her.

  The triumphant smile she always wore reminded me now of an evil sea witch my mum had once told me about. In the story, the witch put a spell on a prince and lured him away, in the process breaking the heart of a red-haired mermaid girl. The poor girl watched helplessly as he walked out of her life without a single look back.

  Rose continued smiling, waiting for me to make the introduction. Her shimmery blue gown rippled like the sea. My stomach tied itself into painful knots and I pressed a hand to my midsection. Stars above, she really is the sea witch and plans to steal Bren away. I wanted to laugh at the melodramatic thoughts, but they felt too real.

  I relaxed my shoulders and pretended to be bored out of my mind, a favorite tactic of mine. She hated it. “Rose, I’m sure you remember meeting my student, Mr. Brendan Bearon, a few months back. Bren, this is my younger sister.” She hated that, too. I smiled sweetly when her eyes narrowed.

  But she quickly recovered and began her simpering act on Bren. “It’s a pleasure to be properly introduced, Brendan. Father has told me so much about you.” She held out a hand as if giving him permission to kiss it. A lump welled in my throat and a faint snarl tickled my windpipe. I had a deep, dark desire to rip the perfectly curled hair from her scalp.

  Bren’s eyes widened. They ticked my way before refocusing on Rose. He took her hand and gave it a firm shake, smoothly releasing it as he said, “Interesting. He hasn’t once mentioned you.”

  I hunched over in a fit of laughter that I unconvincingly turned into coughs. I covered my mouth in a vain attempt to silence the strange sounds. All the while, Rose seethed. But the fury was solely in her eyes; she was like her father in that way. Those swirling irises—the same umber color as her mother’s—sliced into me like the sharpest of blades, flaying skin and muscle.

  Snapping her gaze back to Bren, she tossed her hair and batted long lashes. “What a pity,” Rose practically purred. “He’s been so busy preparing for the Trials that it must have slipped his mind. Why don’t I tell you all about myself while we dance?”

  I almost lunged at her as adrenaline flooded my veins. My heart galloped in my chest as my body trembled with the effort to remain in control. She all but morphed into a hideous, cackling witch with grasping tentacles. I couldn’t stop her from wrapping them around Bren and squeezing.

  In this moment, I hated her with a fiery passion. The emotion boiled me alive and oozed out of my steaming pores. I reached for the monster, intent on strangling it, and smacked into a wall instead.

  Confused, I blinked at the solid blue wall. I made to move around the obstacle and pursue the witch once
more when it spoke. “Of course. Shall we?” But the wall wasn’t speaking to me, and it was moving away, transforming into . . .

  I couldn’t breathe past the terrible ache in my chest. Bren held Rose’s hand, leading her to the middle of the room. There, he took her in his arms and they danced. I was bleeding. I couldn’t see it but, oh my stars, I could feel it. Blood leaked out of me and formed a puddle on that wretched dance floor. My eyes lowered to the carnage at my feet, but only found glistening wood.

  I bolted.

  And tripped. Stupid dress!

  I grabbed fistfuls of the sparkly material, not caring if I wrinkled it. Colors dipped and whirled in a chaotic mess as I whipped by party-goers. My stomach clenched, threatening to hurl. I moved faster, desperate for the feel of winter air on my overheated skin.

  An unforgiving force rammed into my shoulder, spinning me around, and I came face to face with the worst possible person. He wore a suit the color of pine needles, but it did nothing for his appearance—he would always be hideous to me. Those onyx eyes of his slunk downward until they brazenly slid over the tops of my breasts.

  Now I really wanted to vomit, right onto his shiny shoes. I hardened my voice. “What do you want, Lars? I’m not in the mood.”

  His oily smile was full of hidden intent. “I would ask for a dance, but I don’t think it would end well. Too bad, really.” He shrugged, his attention again pulled downward. “Where were you off to in such a hurry? Where is your trusty lapdog?” His gaze slipped over my shoulder and a second later, lit up in understanding. “Aaah.” He drew out the word, finally focusing on my face. “Did he find a new lap?”

  My fists shook with their need to punch him in all the areas it hurt most. “Shut your face. And get a life while you’re at it. Or better yet, don’t. Stay out of my business unless you’re looking to lose a limb.”

  That dumb mouth of his fell open. I brushed past him, but he clamped onto my wrist. I hissed, cursing myself for not expecting it. His fingers squeezed and squeezed but I didn’t react. I wouldn’t give him the sadistic pleasure. “You small-minded, ignorant girl. You are my business. Soon you’ll understand the extent of our connection. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when that day comes.” He let go and melted into the crowd.

  My brain perked up at his mysterious and incredibly creepy words, but I slammed walls in place, blocking all thought. This moment was about feelings—foreign, scary, out-of-control feelings—sensations I had no idea what to do with.

  Soon, my shoes sunk into wet snow and I was free of the toxic building. Already my heart beat a steadier rhythm as the cold infused my throbbing lungs. I wished the evening chill would infiltrate my heart and freeze it as well. The stupid thing wouldn’t stop moping. At least, that’s what I thought it was doing. It felt terrible, whatever this feeling was.

  Why was I reacting this way? When did I care who Rose set her sights on? She was always flirting with boys and making a fool of herself. She’d done it for years. So, what about tonight had been different?

  And then I pictured his hand holding hers and felt sick all over again. It was like my heart was ill. Heartsick, my mind whispered. But why? Because he means something to you. What? My mind remained silent, not having the answer. I didn’t have the answer.

  I was halfway down the stable’s main aisle before realizing where I was. Instinctually, my body knew I could find a fragment of solace here. No equine heads greeted me. Most of the chargers were fast asleep. The air was quiet in here, warmer too. I filled my nose with thick hay and animal hide. My shoulders relaxed a notch.

  With stiff hands, I collected a meat offering and unlatched the stall’s half door, then I was crooning in Freedom’s ear as she nibbled the treat. “Hi, sweet girl. Sorry I woke you. I just—” A small sigh escaped me. “I need someone to talk to and you’re all I have. I feel so . . . so confused. And lost. My time here is coming to an end and—” This time a strangled choking noise cut off my words. Admitting feelings out loud was horrible. “There’s this part of me now that doesn’t want to go. But I must. I have to!”

  Mum. I ached to see her smiling face again. Ached to feel her arms around me. Would she understand the strange feelings I was having? These feelings that clutched at my heartstrings and begged me to stay?

  Panic beat against my chest. Why was this happening? Why now, with only days left before I either earned my freedom or died in the attempt? I didn’t want this burden!

  “What’s wrong?”

  I squeaked like a trapped rabbit, and Freedom yanked her head away from me. My heart settled back behind my sternum when I saw the intruder was only Asher. “You really need to stop sneaking up on me, Asher Donovan.” I sniffled and wiped a sleeve under my runny nose. Gross.

  He ignored the comment, carefully studying my face. “You breezed right by me. Didn’t even hear when I called your name. Want to talk about what’s troubling you?” He rested his forearms on the stall’s half door.

  “No. Yes. Ugh. I don’t know how to talk about it. I’d be too embarrassed, anyway. It’s stupid.”

  “Let me guess. It is tall, dark, and what girls probably consider pretty?”

  I snorted. “Handsome.”

  “Ah, so you know who I’m referring to, then? Because your face is cherry red.”

  “Asher, stop. This is weird. Really, really weird. I’m not discussing boys with you.”

  He shrugged, smile dimming. “You know you can talk to me about anything, though, right? You’re my best friend. And even if you spend all your time with ‘tall, dark, and pretty,’ that won’t change.”

  I stared at him, my eyes round and unblinking. Then I burst into tears. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. It was like my body had taken control of the off-switch. Life was cruel. How was I going to leave Asher behind? The unfairness of the situation had finally snuck up on me, and all I could do was weep uncontrollably. I’d never let anyone see me like this. I felt so lost.

  “May I?”

  Through bleary eyes, I saw that he had entered the stall. He held his arms out—an invitation. I’d never let him hold me in all these years. Not only would people get the wrong idea if we were caught, but I couldn’t be weak like that. I was supposed to be strong, every moment of every day. He was never supposed to see this side of me.

  But these were my last days with him.

  I walked into his embrace, pressed my cheek to his shoulder, and he gently wrapped his arms around me. His thumb softly rubbed my back, and I didn’t flinch away, even when I wanted to. But I needed this. I should have allowed him to comfort me years ago, when he was the only one who would talk to me without malice. Without judgement. With no expectations beyond friendship. I didn’t deserve him. My tears soaked the fabric of his frayed shirt.

  A sound, like a sharp inhale, snapped me back to reality. I jerked out of Asher’s arms, swiftly wiping at my wet cheeks, and met Bren’s shocked gaze. My mind blanked.

  “Lune.” His voice was reed thin. He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly, and looked everywhere but at me. “I should . . . I should go. Sorry to interrupt.” He pivoted, his shoes clipping briskly on the cement.

  He was gone before I could utter a word.

  Blaming lack of verbal control on a bruised heart wasn’t going to work.

  I was in trouble. Like I-might-not-survive-the-night kind of trouble.

  It was the second evening of the Winter Gala and I had just exited Rose’s old room. My mind had been in a deep fog all day, consumed with thoughts of Asher and Bren. The look on Bren’s face when he’d caught me in Asher’s arms, like I’d betrayed him in some way . . . Had I? He wouldn’t stoop so low as to report me, would he? Instead of mentally preparing for the Trials, my stupid brain wanted to focus on boys. So, my distracted self didn’t notice the trap until it had already sprung.

  The door to my childhood room whipped open and there she stood: Rose Tatum, killer of hopes and dreams.

  “Oh, how beautiful!” she gushed. I blinked.
She waved a hand at me. “The dress, of course.”

  Indeed. It wasn’t the first time she had pulled that insult.

  But the dress was beautiful, despite the color. I let my eyes travel down the royal blue confection. Gold-stitched leaves scrolled up my ribs and wrapped once around the long, pointed sleeves. The skirt was a large shiny bell that swayed when I moved. The scooped neckline was low but not low enough to display my assets like last night’s dress, thank the stars. And tonight, my hair hung in loose curls, a single gold comb sweeping the tresses away from the left side of my face.

  Her own dress flounced prettily as she hopped toward me and looped an arm through mine. I gawked. “This is perfect. Let’s walk to the Gala together!” She practically dragged me down the hall. I felt her assessing eyes but kept a bland expression on the upcoming stairs. “So, Brendan is quite handsome, don’t you think?”

  Goosebumps pricked my arms and legs. I feigned a disinterested shrug. “Sure, I guess. If you don’t mind neck cramps while looking up at him.”

  Rose ignored the last comment. “And so strong! My feet barely touched the floor as we danced last night.” She sighed dramatically. “I think he likes me. We would make a beautiful couple. If he wins his Trials, he will be free to pursue a relationship with an elite.” A pause, then, “You wouldn’t mind if I showed an interest, right, Lune?”

  My pulse thumped in my ears; my head grew heavy and full. I knew my calm facade was splintering under the pounding force. “Of course not. Why would I mind?” I inwardly cursed as my voice projected too much emotion.

  She pulled on my arm until I stopped and faced her wicked smile. “Because I’m not stupid and I know you like him.” Her cloying perfume further deadened my brain cells as she stepped so close our dresses crinkled against each other. “I may not be the Princess of the Trials like you are, wielding weapons of steel, but I will always be Princess of the Elites—perhaps someday Queen—and I have weapons of my own. You know I do. And right now, I want Brendan, and you will not stand in my way.”