Tempest Bound: Warning: There's cussing in this chapter. Like, three times. Just telling you.

The Shade Law

Chapter 21: Once a Thief

My female friends, specifically Muffy, have told me what their first kiss felt like. How soft his lips were, how warm they felt, how they just wanted to—and then I would cut them off, hoping to keep my innocent little brain rated PG.

But the first thing I think when I realize the reason for my difficulty speaking is because Skye's kissing me is nothing of the sort.

Holy, shit.

I think that maybe I'm just being delusional, that maybe it's me that's going crazy. Skye can't be kissing me. I must be drunk or something.

Why else would I want to kiss back?

I try to remember how this could've happened. I was angry, I know, but why was I mad again?

I pull back, and Skye's hand—how did I not notice it?—drops from where it was resting on my cheek, my face burns like a bed of hot coals.

"U-Um, Skye?" I ask, voice shaking. Holy, shit.

"Hmm?"

I open my mouth, but all that comes out is air. I try again. "What was that?"

Skye smiles. "A kiss, obviously."

I roll my eyes, but then I realize how close we still are. I feel my face go even redder. "I wouldn't have ever guessed," I say sarcastically, hoping to mask my—embarrassed, weirded-out, what the hell—reaction. "Let me emphasize: what was the kiss for?"

He laughs softly, and suddenly I feel lightheaded. "It's much more polite than saying 'shut up', isn't it? After all, gentle men strive to be courteous."

I bite my lip. "I'm not so sure it's less rude than saying 'shut up'."

Skye smirks slightly. "Well, can you imagine yours truly saying such a thing to you?"

Honestly, I can't "No."

"Well, then," he says, no hint that he notices my flushed face as he takes my hand. "I guess that's your answer, hmm?"

I still don't know why the hell I'm not angry with him. "Whatever."

Apparently, Skye knows where my house is. Well we did first meet there (which makes this sound like some mushy love story) and he did drop off those—love?—letters.

I only don't know where my house is because it's night, okay? Everything looks different when it's dark out.

I knock on the door, Skye refusing to let go of my hand no matter the threats, and when no one answers, I try the doorknob. Locked. I sigh, find the extra key hidden near the window, and unlock it.

Of course Mom and Dad wouldn't be here.

All I really feel like doing is dropping into a dead sleep, but I can't exactly do that with Skye here. He absolutely refuses to let me go until my wounds are taken care of. I lie and say that they don't hurt so much, but he doesn't believe me and insists that either I dress my burns and cuts on my own, or he'll do it for me, whether I like it or not.

Trying, in vain, to go to sleep, I say, "What if I don't know where the first aid kit is?" But when he raises one disbelieving eyebrow, I sigh. "Under the sink."

Skye smiles. "Good."

I stick out my tongue. "I hate you, too," I say, and, strangely, I don't mean it.

He laughs, already looking in the cupboard under the sink. "Whatever you say, Beautiful."

Impulsively, I remark, "I don't really like it when you call me that. Or 'Maiden'." I think for a few seconds. "Or any other absurd nickname your head can think of."

He looks up, first aid kit in hand. "Why not?"

I shrug, sitting down at one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "It's almost like you're saying there's nothing good about me besides my looks, which I severely doubt I have in the first place."

Skye's eyes soften as he takes the seat next to me. "I am, by no stretch of the word, trying to imply anything of the sort. Do you really not like me calling you that?" When I nod that, yes, I don't like it, his eyes are slightly confused. "Odd. Most girls enjoy being called 'Beautiful'."

I glare, the tiny part of me that worries about fitting in hurt. "Well, I'm not one of them, then."

I flush as he kisses me on the forehead. Why isn't he all awkward, too? "That I'm glad for, Jill."

I look away, eyes landing on the first aid kit. I reach for the burn cream, but Skye stops me.

When I glance at him curiously, he just smiles and says, "Let me. After all, it is my fault you are in this shape in the first place."

Even if that's what I thought previously, I blink, aghast. "No, it's not. I mean, your dad would've done...that otherwise. So I can't blame you."

"Yes, you can. I could've stood up to him."

"You did." I look up at him through my eyelashes. "And, for that, I have to thank you."

Skye doesn't seem convinced. He takes the cap off of the tube of cream. "I hope I don't hurt you more than I have already."

"Goddess, how many times do I have to—" I say, but stop, smiling devilishly. "You know what? 'Shut up'." So I make him.

I pull back after the kiss, still grinning. "How do you like a taste of your own medicine?"

Skye laughs, pressing his forehead against mine. I blush, realizing what I just did. "I quite like it, actually." He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand.

"Well, you won't get another kiss, you know."

"Why not?"

"'Cause you touching one of my burns." And of course his reaction's priceless.

It's only an hour or so until daybreak, and I don't get a chance to catch a few minutes of sleep. Mom and Dad aren't home by six, so I basically say to hell with it. Celia is usually up by now, with the farm and all, so I decide to go help. Maybe I can ask why she's acting so weirdly.

Leaving Skye at the house would be a bad idea, so, as much as I don't want to, I let him come with me.

He's bugging the hell out of me, anyways.

The trip to the farm is short. Nothing worth mentioning. The real fun begins when we get there.

Obviously, I expect everyone to recognise Skye. I mean, silver hair is not exactly common, and you can't really mistake him for anyone else. Even the way he carries himself is distinct.

But not one girl says 'hi; on the way. Not one fan girl glares in my direction as we pass. Rock doesn't even make a stupid joke as we walk by. It's as if they sense that they would get kicked if they were to interfere. Well, maybe the glare makes it obvious.

Skye is unusually jumpy, but with what happened, I can't blame him.

Vesta smiles and hugs me when we get there. "Where's have you been? You didn't come by for days!"

My mouth feels like it's filled with cotton. "Didn't Mom say anything?"

Her eyes are confused. "What do you mean?"

Skye takes my hand, and I resist the urge to brush it off. "Oh, nothing. They're not at the house that often, so I'm not surprised they didn't mention me."

Vesta takes notice of Skye, and there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Isn't that President Blackthorn's kid?"

I nod uncertainly, afraid of her reaction. "Yeah. He goes to our school."

She smiles, confusion brushing her features. "Oh. Celia mentioned him or something."

I grab at the opportunity. "Speaking of Celia, have you seen her? Shouldn't she be up by now?"

Vesta nods. "Yeah, she's been up since the crack of dawn, she has. But she went into Inner City, saying something about telling something to the Law Keepers."

A sense of dread pulls at my gut. "Did she say anything about what it was?"

Vesta shrugs, nodding in Skye's direction. "Something about him."

We run back home—well, more accurately, I sprint, while Skye gets dragged along.

"Why are we running? What's the rush?" he asks, easily keeping up with me.

I frown. "Something tells me we need to get home. Like, now." As I fumble with the lock, clumsily dropping the key in my haste, I mutter, "And turn on the television."

Even more confused, Skye just nods. The second we're in, I hit the power button on our old TV set, impatiently jumping from foot to foot.

"Come on, come on."

The screen lights up with an electrical blip, static playing in the speakers for a few seconds. After what seems like forever, the screen and sound clears. What I hear stops my nervous fidgeting in its tracks.

"—Thanks to the information provided by a citizen, I'm making an announcement."

On screen, a crowd of reporters are flocked around the stage. Blackthorn stands at the podium, mouth at the microphone, addressing the throng. But that's not what makes me freeze.

It's the fact that Celia's standing on stage with him.

"Celia?" What the hell?

"—This lady has informed me of what I think everyone here wishes to know." A pause, then he leans closer to the microphone. "The identity of the Phantom Thief."

A curse slips out of my mouth as the reporters starts shouting questions. Not Celia!

A smug smile appears on Blackthorn's face, contradicting his next words. "No matter how much it pains me to say this, I must tell you."

Skye paces behind me, nervously glancing at the TV every few seconds. "This doesn't sound too good."

I shush him.

"The Phantom Thief is my own son, Skye."

Shit.

Another twisted smile flickers across Blackthorn's face. "But, citizens, I must announce something else." I can tell he's enjoying this. "He's not my son. Not anymore."

A particularly persistent reporter pushes past others and I can barely hear the question he asks over the din and the blood rushing in my ears. "What do you mean, President?"

"I've disowned him."

"That—that—" I can't think of a word bad enough to describe him.

"Now, Jill."

"Why are you so calm about this?" I ask, refusing to believe that this is reality. I pinch myself. No good. "Your dad just disowned you! Heck, you were just as nervous as me a few seconds ago!"

Skye smiles smugly. "Yes, but we have something he doesn't."

I throw my hands up. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Secrets. What, pray tell, do we have that he doesn't? And why would this make a difference?"

Taking something out of his pocket, Skye opens his clenched fist. My eyes widen.

Well, once a thief, always a thief.

Resting delicately in his palm, is the ring.

Tempest Bound: What? Aren't cliff-hangers fun? No?

Fine.

Two updates in one day, one chapter that was finished for practically a week while the other half done. Not bad, I must say.

I still love cliff-hangers, though.