Wicked
Page 68
An ache lit up my chest as I listened to him. Human compassion—his father's love and his wife's acceptance had saved the boy, but I knew where this was heading, and although I wanted to hope for a different outcome, I knew it wouldn't change how this story ended.
"Noah was . . . God, he was a good guy and would've made one hell of an Order member. Loyal to the fucking core, and I . . ." A harsh laugh thundered out of him. "He even knew what I was being trained to do. Shit. I wasn't supposed to tell him, but man, there were no secrets between us, and I was so damn proud back then. I thought I was special." His lips curled into a mockery of a smile. "The way we found out was a fucking accident. My fault really. I brought the thorn stake out."
Shoulders tensed, he rubbed his hand along his chest, over his heart. "My parents lived just outside the city on several acres of land. They had the targets set up and we'd practice knife throwing. That kind of shit. He was over at my house, and we were in our backyard screwing around. My dad was there. So was another member of the Elite—Kyle Clare." His tone was tight, edged in bitterness. "My dad had no idea I had the thorn stake out there, and I let Noah pick it up. Nicked himself. Just a tiny cut, but that's all that was needed. I saw it. So did my father and Kyle."
My chest constricted, ached from what he was telling me. Out of all the loss I'd experienced, I had no idea what I'd do if I learned that my best friend, someone like Val, was what I was being trained to hunt—to kill.
"He knew," Ren said, his voice hoarse. "Noah knew when he saw his blood bubble, because I'd told him. He looked at me, as if he was sorry. I'll never forget that look." He cut himself off, clearing his throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the sudden burn of tears. "I was shocked. I didn't do a damn thing as I stared at him. My dad saw it, so did Kyle. They . . . pretended not to notice, but I knew they did. Noah left, and I just . . . I just stood there in that damn backyard."
"Oh God," I whispered.
"Kyle? He left then too, and a part of me deep down knew why he was leaving. This whole time a halfling had been right under our noses. It takes years sometimes to get info on potential targets." Drawing in a shuddering breath, he shook his head. "When I snapped out of it, I tried to go after them. I was going to go after them. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I couldn't just stand there. My father stopped me, and . . . Noah never made it home. I never saw him again."
"Oh, Ren, I'm so sorry." My voice was thick. "I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry."
He nodded, but guilt chewed out his next words. "To this day, I think about all the things I could've done differently. Like if I hadn't told him about the Elite, then I would've never had that stake out there with him. He never would've cut himself, and well, shit would be a lot different."
"Wait. What happened to him wasn't your fault."
"I knew better."
"How old were you when this happened? Sixteen? We didn't know jack shit at sixteen, Ren. What happened wasn't your fault."
"I didn't stop them from killing Noah."
"But you tried," I reasoned.
His heavy, tortured gaze swung in my direction. "Did I try hard enough? I'm not sure. And was I even supposed to try? I grew up knowing halflings had to be dealt with. There's no gray area there."
"No matter what, it wasn't something you did or didn't do. His death wasn't your fault." I reached over, wrapping my fingers around his forearm. "God knows, I understand what that kind of guilt feels like."
A flicker of understanding crossed his features. "You do?"
Realizing what I'd admitted, I quickly forged on. The last thing Ren needed to hear was how I actually was the cause of three people dying. "You don't need to carry that kind of guilt around, Ren. What happened was terrible, and there are a lot of things that could've been done differently, but I doubt it would've changed the outcome." I paused, wondering when was the last time I sounded so mature. "It's not your fault, Ren."
He searched my face carefully, and then he placed his hand over mine. "I don't ever want to be in that situation again."
My heart squeezed, forcing out a promise I knew I couldn't back up and had no control over. "You won't."
Ren was quiet for a moment, his stare locked onto mine with an intensity that caused my breath to quicken, and then he moved. Closing the distance between us, he kissed me.
The brush of his lips was the last thing I was expecting, but the sweet, almost shy way he did so snagged me. I opened to him, and his other hand settled at the nape of my neck. I kissed him back, still feeling a little out of my element when it came to doing this, but after a few moments, I wasn't thinking about whether or not I was doing it correctly. I wasn't capable of a lot of thought when all I could taste was him.
My heart rate sped up as he tugged me toward him. Sliding his hands to my upper arms, he lifted me onto his lap, my knees settling on either side of his hips. Never once did he break contact with my mouth, and well, that took talent.
I shouldn't be allowing this, but I was trembling and I wanted so much more. Every time he touched me, and with every brush of his lips, I was dragged under a little deeper, but I couldn't make myself stop. I was starved for this contact, the red-hot sting of pleasure and the breathless bliss that awaited.
"Noah was . . . God, he was a good guy and would've made one hell of an Order member. Loyal to the fucking core, and I . . ." A harsh laugh thundered out of him. "He even knew what I was being trained to do. Shit. I wasn't supposed to tell him, but man, there were no secrets between us, and I was so damn proud back then. I thought I was special." His lips curled into a mockery of a smile. "The way we found out was a fucking accident. My fault really. I brought the thorn stake out."
Shoulders tensed, he rubbed his hand along his chest, over his heart. "My parents lived just outside the city on several acres of land. They had the targets set up and we'd practice knife throwing. That kind of shit. He was over at my house, and we were in our backyard screwing around. My dad was there. So was another member of the Elite—Kyle Clare." His tone was tight, edged in bitterness. "My dad had no idea I had the thorn stake out there, and I let Noah pick it up. Nicked himself. Just a tiny cut, but that's all that was needed. I saw it. So did my father and Kyle."
My chest constricted, ached from what he was telling me. Out of all the loss I'd experienced, I had no idea what I'd do if I learned that my best friend, someone like Val, was what I was being trained to hunt—to kill.
"He knew," Ren said, his voice hoarse. "Noah knew when he saw his blood bubble, because I'd told him. He looked at me, as if he was sorry. I'll never forget that look." He cut himself off, clearing his throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the sudden burn of tears. "I was shocked. I didn't do a damn thing as I stared at him. My dad saw it, so did Kyle. They . . . pretended not to notice, but I knew they did. Noah left, and I just . . . I just stood there in that damn backyard."
"Oh God," I whispered.
"Kyle? He left then too, and a part of me deep down knew why he was leaving. This whole time a halfling had been right under our noses. It takes years sometimes to get info on potential targets." Drawing in a shuddering breath, he shook his head. "When I snapped out of it, I tried to go after them. I was going to go after them. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I couldn't just stand there. My father stopped me, and . . . Noah never made it home. I never saw him again."
"Oh, Ren, I'm so sorry." My voice was thick. "I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry."
He nodded, but guilt chewed out his next words. "To this day, I think about all the things I could've done differently. Like if I hadn't told him about the Elite, then I would've never had that stake out there with him. He never would've cut himself, and well, shit would be a lot different."
"Wait. What happened to him wasn't your fault."
"I knew better."
"How old were you when this happened? Sixteen? We didn't know jack shit at sixteen, Ren. What happened wasn't your fault."
"I didn't stop them from killing Noah."
"But you tried," I reasoned.
His heavy, tortured gaze swung in my direction. "Did I try hard enough? I'm not sure. And was I even supposed to try? I grew up knowing halflings had to be dealt with. There's no gray area there."
"No matter what, it wasn't something you did or didn't do. His death wasn't your fault." I reached over, wrapping my fingers around his forearm. "God knows, I understand what that kind of guilt feels like."
A flicker of understanding crossed his features. "You do?"
Realizing what I'd admitted, I quickly forged on. The last thing Ren needed to hear was how I actually was the cause of three people dying. "You don't need to carry that kind of guilt around, Ren. What happened was terrible, and there are a lot of things that could've been done differently, but I doubt it would've changed the outcome." I paused, wondering when was the last time I sounded so mature. "It's not your fault, Ren."
He searched my face carefully, and then he placed his hand over mine. "I don't ever want to be in that situation again."
My heart squeezed, forcing out a promise I knew I couldn't back up and had no control over. "You won't."
Ren was quiet for a moment, his stare locked onto mine with an intensity that caused my breath to quicken, and then he moved. Closing the distance between us, he kissed me.
The brush of his lips was the last thing I was expecting, but the sweet, almost shy way he did so snagged me. I opened to him, and his other hand settled at the nape of my neck. I kissed him back, still feeling a little out of my element when it came to doing this, but after a few moments, I wasn't thinking about whether or not I was doing it correctly. I wasn't capable of a lot of thought when all I could taste was him.
My heart rate sped up as he tugged me toward him. Sliding his hands to my upper arms, he lifted me onto his lap, my knees settling on either side of his hips. Never once did he break contact with my mouth, and well, that took talent.
I shouldn't be allowing this, but I was trembling and I wanted so much more. Every time he touched me, and with every brush of his lips, I was dragged under a little deeper, but I couldn't make myself stop. I was starved for this contact, the red-hot sting of pleasure and the breathless bliss that awaited.
