Author's Notes:
For all you readers who wanted the Safe Room scene!
Disclaimer: All characters and book quotes belong to Kiera Cass!
To Bibabugs: Thank you, for pushing me to excel! ❤
WARNING! Sweet fluff! If you don't like this content move along. To all who do...
Proceed and Enjoy!
~Sweetwaterspice
Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories
"My Life, My Love, My Way"
BONUS CHAPTER
The Safe Room
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
'Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
~ Jim Croce ~
~ Maxon
To an outsider my life was THE life. I had riches, fame, I lived in a fucking palace; had servant's at my beck and call. To an outsider I had it all. I often wondered if they'd trade places with me if they knew the price I paid—the marks I wore on my back to live this so-called privileged life.
Tonight I took the lashings and I understood Marlee and Carter. Why they endured the agony, withstood the humiliation, the pain.
Love.
It could move mountains, I'd heard. I didn't believe that until an hour ago.
Carter had volunteered to take Marlee's punishment. I had done the same for America. The only difference is that she'd never know it. I would never tell her. It would be another secret to add to the long list I was cursed to keep.
My back was on fire. I bit into my bottom lip, trying to distract myself from the pain burning under my clothing. I'd follow the ritual. Get to my room, manage to undress; that would be the worst of it and tend to my wounds as best as I could. A vicious cycle repeated once more.
The pain in my back was bad but it paled in comparison to the ache in my heart.
America had betrayed my trust yet again. This time there would be nothing I could do to save her. Maybe I didn't have enough fight left in me to try anymore. I wanted this Selection to be over. Then I'd have to live with my choice. She'd be gone by tomorrow and out of my life forever. I guessed I could only blame myself for this mess. I let my heart lead the way. And yet in the recesses of it I had no regrets. I had known what being in love felt like for once in my life. I could take comfort in that thought. That much I would treasure.
But regardless of this latest development I had the Selection to complete. I still had an obligation to my people and I would choose a new princess to stand at my side. I'd meet with my advisors tomorrow to inform them of my decision. Right now, I needed to get to my room.
As I exited the hospital wing with the small metal box of medicinal supplies in hand, someone ran right into my chest. Pain lanced through me making me groan and drop the box hearing it clatter on the floor.
My eyes widened. "What are you doing out of your room?" I asked America, the someone who had collided into me. I slowly bent to pick up the box controlling my breathing through the jarring pain. Whether she noticed my discomfort she didn't make it known. It was a small grace.
"I was going to the gardens. I'm trying to figure out if I did something stupid or not."
Pushing through the agony, I stood. "Oh, I can assure you it was stupid."
"Do you need help?"
"No," I answered quickly, avoiding her eyes. "Just heading to my room. And I suggest you do the same."
"Maxon." The quiet plea in her voice made me look at her. Damn me.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her blue eyes teeming with regret. "I was mad, and I wanted to … I don't even know anymore. And you were the one who said there were perks to being a One, that you could change things."
I rolled my eyes in frustration. "You're not a One."
It was a harsh thing to say, but nevertheless, true. America had played a dangerous hand without thought to the consequences. She took the blow of my words and there was a silence between us.
I pressed on, doing my best to control my irritation with her. "Even if you were, did you not pay attention at all to the way I'm doing things? It's quiet and small. That's how it has to be for now. You can't go on television complaining about the way things are run and expect to have my father's, or anyone's, support."
"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I'm so, so sorry."
Her words tore at my insides. I wanted to pull her in my arms, comfort her, tell her we'd get through this but I realized America would never understand the demands, the responsibilities and the weight of a crown. Perhaps she had been right all along and I had refused to see what she had been trying to tell me. "I'm not sure that—"
Shouting cut into my words. I turned and started walking, trying to make sense of the sudden chaos.
Guards began flooding the main hallway and the doors to the gardens.
"Sound the alarm!" someone called. "They're through the gates!"
"Guns at the ready!" another guard yelled over the shouts.
"Alert the king!"
The hairs on the back of my neck stood. Shit! Rebels!
The alarm started blaring and just like that all hell broke loose. Bullets buzzed by us and the sickening sound of a guard who'd been struck in the chest sent adrenaline spiking through my body. America screamed at the fallen guard and instinct kicked in. I grabbed America, pulling her away but the pain in my body absorbed any temporary numbness the adrenaline offered seconds ago and I cursed my uselessness. Roaring dulled my hearing and I bit into my lip. I had to get us out of here but any move no matter how small was excruciating.
"You have to get downstairs now!" A guard's voice registered. He grabbed my shoulders and gruffly turned me around and shoved me to move. I cried out, hands shaking and dropped the metal box again and as if on auto pilot, my feet began to move.
Everything dulled around me except the pain. It raked its insidious fingers, sharp talons ripping down my spine. The pain seared like a hot poker into my lower back, into my hips, through my thighs. "I won't make it." My jaw tightened as the words grit between my teeth. Sweat beaded on my brow as I tried taking another step, another...
And I couldn't help but think how pathetic my father would think me to be at this very moment.
I didn't know how we got to the safe room but was glad this guard knew the ins and outs of the palace when he opened the door. America was still at my side when without hesitation I walked, hunched over into the dark room.
"Tell my mother that America and I are safe. Do that before anything else," I commanded the guard who'd led us to the safe room, the pain shooting up my spine nearly unbearable.
"Absolutely, sir. I'll come back for you myself when this is over."
I nodded and closed the door. Complete darkness shrouded us. The sound of the alarm dulled, now nearly inaudible through the seal of the door. I ran my hand over the wall until I found the light switch. The light was dim but I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
Looking around the safe room I said, "At least this is one of the good ones." I hobbled over to the bench, taking a seat.
"What's wrong?" America asked. I wished she hadn't.
"Nothing," I lied, of course, propping my head on my arms.
She took a seat beside me setting the metal box I had dropped on the floor and I would've laughed at our situation if I weren't in so much damn pain.
"I'm guessing those were Southern rebels?" she asked.
I could only offer a nod in reply. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult with each second I counted.
"Are we safe here?" The question triggered that instinctive need to protect when it came to the Selected girls. True, I cared for them all. But I loved only one. I'd wanted so much to always be her protector. I guess that title was short-lived at best.
I reassured America we'd be fine. The rebels couldn't access the rooms once they were in use. I explained through labored breaths how we wouldn't be stuck in here forever, at one time patting my jacket pocket for the key that could activate the door, setting us to freedom. But even such a small move took effort making me cringe.
It took me a bit to get through all the information to ease her worry and when I leaned forward to alleviate some of the sting on my back, I hissed.
"Maxon?"
"I can't… I can't take it anymore. America, help with my coat?"
America moved quickly and soon my coat was off. I breathed with minor relief. I started on the buttons of my dress shirt, undoing them with shaky hands when America joined in. I stopped her, holding her hands in mine.
"Your record for keeping secrets isn't that impressive right now. But this is one that goes to your grave. And mine. Do you understand?"
Her eyes widened but she nodded. This was it. My darkest secret would be mine no longer.
America knelt before me, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. I watched her fingers work each of them and for a brief moment fantasies of what our first time together would've been like surfaced before I buried them away.
Opening the front, "Slowly," I hissed when she began peeling the shirt with my help as I nudged a shoulder through. America stood and went behind to finish stripping the shirt from my back. It hurt like hell and I clenched my jaw to keep from crying out.
Her gasp sobered me. There. Now she knew. My shame written in bloodied welts and gashes.
She didn't say a word and I loved her for it. I knew the sight must've shocked her. Here sat the crowned Prince of Illéa nothing more than a whipping boy to a sadistic asshole. I didn't want her pity though. And I closed my eyes ready to tell her to save it for someone else. But the words never came. Instead I heard her turn to the sink and the sound of water running from the faucet.
"This might sting a little," she warned on return.
"It's okay," I whispered. "I'm used to it."
The press of the cool cloth along my back stung as I knew it would. America worked carefully, dabbing at the fresh wounds. I couldn't stop the words flooding my head. Didn't want to. So, I started talking.
"I've been preparing for tonight for years, you know?" I admitted to America, feeling vulnerable as I'd never felt in my life. "I've been waiting for the day when I was strong enough to take him on."
That admission alone opened a door to a reality I wasn't even sure how I would face once I left this room. But, he would never touch me again. This I vowed.
I was deep in my thoughts when America cleared her throat, asked, "Why didn't you?"
I paused. "I was afraid that if he didn't have me, he'd want you."
She stopped for a moment but I couldn't bring myself to look at her.
There were pages of history written on my back. I felt shame; worthlessness.
"Does anyone know?" she asked.
"No."
"Not the doctor? Or your mother?"
"The doctor must, but he's quiet. And I would never tell my mother or even give her a reason to suspect. She knows Father is stern with me, but I don't want her to worry. And I can take it." America listened, dabbing at my wounds and I continued, quickly ammending. "He's not like this with her. She gets mistreated in her own ways, I suppose, but not like this."
"Hmm..." Is all she said. It wasn't an unexpected response, I suppose; you know the type you get when someone's not sure of what else to say.
"Damn, that stings."
She pulled the cloth away for a minute while I slowed down my breathing. After a moment, I nodded for her to continue. She did with such care that I wished that now that she knew the truth, she wouldn't leave me.
But since that wasn't going to happen, I wanted her to at least understand I wasn't a cold-hearted bastard. "I have more sympathy for Carter and Marlee than you know. These things take awhile to stop hurting, especially if you're determined to take care of them on your own."
"What are the others for?" A heartbeat later, "Never mind. That's rude."
I shrugged my uninjured shoulder. "Things I said or did. Things I know."
"Things I know," she added. "Maxon, I'm so …"
Her breathing hitched. I reached behind, searching for her and found her knee.
"How are you going to finish fixing me up if you're crying?" Hearing America's sadness for me somehow gave me back a piece of my soul.
Her hands were careful as she applied the salve and bandages I kept in the metal box to my wounds. The tension in my shoulders eased as she worked along, the ointment taking the desired effects, easing the sting, numbing the pain.
I couldn't stop the thought in my head when I snorted out a little laugh; a way to deflect my wretched reality. "I knew my secret would come out eventually. I've been trying to come up with a good story for years. I was hoping to find something believable before the wedding since I knew my wife would see them, but I'm still stumped. Any ideas?"
She was silent for a few heartbeats before saying, "The truth works."
The truth... I imagined how the other girls would react. I knew Kriss would be compassionate and Celeste? I preferred not to consider her reaction whereas Elise, I had no clue. Not that I ever imagined myself in any sort of intimate scenario with Elise. I shuddered. As for Natalie, I didn't see any future with her; least of all any that required us being naked.
"Not my favorite option," I admitted. "Not for this anyway."
"I think I'm done."
"That's great, America. Better than any job I ever did." I twisted my torso gingerly looking back at her.
"Anytime."
I took her in, devoting every feature to memory. I didn't realize the silence that had grown between us until she said, "I'm going to wash your shirt."
Burying herself in the corner, the faucet turned on, I watched her shoulders, arms, the rigorous movements of her body as she scrubbed my shirt. Such a mundane task suddenly felt weirdly intimate. And the way her eyes had been drifting to my bared chest only made this entire situation feel even more so. A bloom of male pride stoked me knowing she liked what she saw.
When she was finally through with my shirt and turned in my direction my eyes were still on her. "Why don't you ever ask questions I actually want to answer?"
America took a seat on the floor in front of me much to my disappointment. I guessed it was for the best. Temptation would've drove me to take her hand or wrap my arm around her to comfort her or myself, maybe both of us.
"I didn't know I did that."
"You do."
"Well, what am I not asking that you want me to?"
Letting loose a long breath and gently leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees, I looked into America's blue eyes. "Don't you want me to explain Kriss and Celeste? Don't you think you deserve that?"
If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you
America crossed her arms. The first tell-tale sign of self-defense. Not the kind of body language I wanted to see but not unexpected.
"I've heard Kriss's version of what happened, and I don't think she's exaggerating anything. As for Celeste, I'd rather never talk about her ever again."
I laughed. "So stubborn. I'll miss that." My heart wilted a bit at that somber thought.
She was quiet as my words settled. "So it's done then? I'm out?"
I briefly pondered her question. "I'm not sure I could stop it now. Isn't that what you wanted?"
America shook her head. "I was mad," she whispered. "I was so mad."
She looked away. I wasn't certain if it was shame or cowardice although I'd never equate America to be a coward. After all, she had boldly challenged my father and the entire country on national TV just hours ago but now, she didn't look at me. I realized then that there were things I'd never get a chance to say if I didn't say them now. So, I did.
"I thought you were mine," I confessed, staring at the ceiling. "If I could have proposed to you at the Halloween party, I would have. I'm supposed to do something official with my parents and guests and cameras, but I got special permission to ask you privately when we were ready and have a reception afterward. I never told you about that, did I?" I looked over to her, and she gave a small shake of her head.
I couldn't dismiss all the missteps I'd made so my smile was laced with bitterness, remembering. "I had this speech prepared, all these promises I wanted to make. I probably would have forgotten it and made an idiot of myself. Though … I can remember it now." I sighed. "I'll spare you."
Pausing briefly, I continued, "When you pushed me away, I panicked. I had thought that I was done with this insane contest, and I found myself feeling like it was the very first day of the Selection all over again, only this time my options were far more limited. And just the week before, I'd spent time with all those girls trying to find someone who outshone you, who I thought I could want more, and failed. I felt hopeless.
"And then Kriss came to me, so very humble, only wanting to see me happy, and I wondered how I'd missed that in her. I knew she was nice, and she's very attractive; but there was something more to her this whole time. I think I simply wasn't really looking. What reason did I have when there was you?"
"Do you love her?" She asked meekly.
Did I love Kriss? I couldn't label what I felt for Kriss as love but what I did know is that there was something between us I couldn't pretend didn't exist.
"It's different than what you and I had," I acknowledged. "It's quieter, maybe friendlier. But it's steady. I can depend on Kriss, and I know without question that she is devoted to me. As you can see, there is very little certainty in my world. She's refreshing in that way."
She nodded, still avoiding eye contact. Not that I blamed her. Here I was declaring my possible future with another girl. And as clinical as my words sounded, I hated this but I had to face it. There was no future for us any longer. And even though my words were honest they still tasted bitter and foul coming from my mouth.
"Then why Celeste?" She asked, finally facing me. "If Kriss is so wonderful …"
That was a valid point. Recalling the kiss with Celeste which I was certain was going through America's mind at that very second made me feel a little embarrassed about it.
I stood, giving my back another tentative stretch. In reality I couldn't talk about this sitting down. I always thought better on my feet. As I started pacing the small space, I gauged my words carefully. To America, Celeste tended to be a very sensitive subject and their history was a reflection of that volatility.
"As you now know, my life is full of stresses that I prefer not to share. I live in a constant state of tension. I'm always being watched, judged. My parents, our advisers … there are always cameras in my life, and now you're all here," I gestured to her.
"I'm sure you've felt trapped at least once because of your caste, but imagine how I feel. There are things I've seen, America, and things I know; and I don't think I'll ever be able to change them.
"You're aware, I'm sure, that technically my father is supposed to retire in my twenties, when he feels I'm ready to lead; but do you think he'll ever stop pulling the strings? That's not going to happen so long as he lives; and I know he's terrible, but I don't want him to die …. He is my father."
She nodded. I was relieved she was allowing me a chance to explain my point of view.
"Speaking of which, he's had his hand in the Selection from very early on. If you look at who's left, it's pretty clear." I started ticking off the girls on my fingers. "Natalie is extremely pliable, and that makes her my father's favorite, as I am too willful in his opinion. The fact that he's so fond of her makes me have to fight the urge to hate her.
"Elise has allies in New Asia, but I'm not sure if that's of any use at all. That war …" I debated my suspicions about it but decided against sharing them.
"And she's so … I don't even know the word for it. I knew from the beginning that I didn't want some girl who would agree with everything I said or just roll over and adore me. I try to contradict her, and she concedes the point. Every time! It's infuriating. It's like she doesn't have a spine."
Did I really just say that out loud? I took a steadying breath. Apparently, Elise along with Natalie was not a front runner. I couldn't fathom being married to either. The thought was alarming in itself.
Finally, I looked at America. "You were my pick. My only pick. My father wasn't enthusiastic; but at that point you hadn't done anything to upset him. So long as you were quiet, he didn't mind me keeping you. In fact, he was fine with me choosing you, if you were well behaved. He's used your recent actions to point out the flaws in my judgment and is insisting that he have the final say now.
"That's beside the point," I waved a hand. "The others—Marlee, Kriss, and Celeste—were chosen by advisers. Marlee was a favorite, as is Kriss." I sighed. "Kriss would be a fine choice," I admitted. "I wish she would let me closer, if only for the fact that I don't know if we have … chemistry. I'd like to at least have an idea.
"And Celeste. She is very influential, a celebrity in her own right. It looks good on TV. It sounds right for someone who is close to being on the same level as me to be the final choice. I like her if only for her tenacity. She at least has a backbone. But I can tell that she's got a manipulative streak and that she's working this whole situation for everything she can get out of it. I know when she holds me, it's the crown she pulls close to her heart."
I closed my eyes, ready to admit my reasons for getting it on with Celeste that night. "She's using me, so I don't feel guilty using her. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd been encouraged to throw herself at me."
There, I'd said it. Did that make me a bad person? I wasn't sure. It didn't make me feel like a shining example of upstanding moral character either. "You are nothing but a child..." America's damning words made me wonder if I truly was but I didn't allow myself to linger on that adding, "I can respect Kriss's boundaries. And I'd much prefer to be in your arms, but you've barely spoken to me …."
A torrent of irritation followed. I didn't wish to make excuses for my actions because a part of me wanted to feel valued and loved. And whatever America's opinion had been of me that night, that's not the person I was inside. The words flooded like a broken dam with raw honesty.
"Is it so awful of me to want fifteen minutes of my life not to matter? To feel good? To pretend for a little while that someone loves me? You can judge me if you want, but I can't apologize for needing something normal in my life."
I stared deep into America's eyes, waiting for her reproach, her condemnation and hoping she wouldn't do either at the same time.
"I get that."
Her response shocked me but I was relieved all the same. Yet, I couldn't help but wonder if she had felt the same way back in Carolina with her ex.
"Would you ever pick her? Celeste, I mean?" she asked.
I took a seat beside her on the floor, easing down carefully, jaw tightening, feeling the muscles of my back stretch. "If I had to," I said with a mild grunt, "I'd take her over Elise or Natalie. But that won't happen unless Kriss decides she wants to go."
"Kriss is a good choice. She'd make a much better princess than I ever would have."
I chuckled not feeling genuine amusement. "She is less of an instigator. Lord knows what would happen to the country with you at the helm."
She laughed at that and damn my treacherous heart for still wanting her. "I'd probably ruin it."
"But maybe it needs ruining." I smiled at her. Did she realize how much I'd miss her?
We sat there in silence for a little while. There was one question I needed an answer to; one question I would forever regret not asking. So I braved it. "Would you indulge me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I've shared a lot of things with you tonight that are very difficult for me to admit. I was wondering if you could answer one question for me."
"Yes. Anything."
I swallowed. "Did you ever love me?"
She ducked her head and I braced myself for the truth I was sure would destroy me.
"I know that when I thought you were responsible for hurting Marlee, it crushed me. Not just because it happened, but because I didn't want to think of you as that kind of person. I know that when you talk about Kriss or when I think about you kissing Celeste … I'm so jealous I can hardly breathe. And I know that when we talked on Halloween, I was thinking about our future. And I was happy. I know if you had asked, I would have said yes."
My heart swelled just to tighten painfully afterwards. She had been happy. She would've said, yes.
"I also know that I never knew how to feel about you dating other people or being a prince. Even with everything you told me tonight, I think there are pieces of yourself that you will always guard …."
I held my breath hanging on to her every word.
"But, with all that …" she nodded and that was all the answer I needed. Although she didn't say the words, I knew she'd loved me.
"Thank you," I whispered. "At least I can know for certain that, for one brief moment of our time together, you and I felt the same thing." And the truth of it all made me feel even worse. I had had her love, she had been mine and I lost it all.
"I've been so foolish," she said, breath catching. "I kept letting the crown scare me out of wanting you. I told myself that you didn't really matter to me. I kept thinking that you had lied to me or tricked me, that you didn't trust me or care about me enough. I let myself believe that I wasn't important to you."
She stared at me, eyes welled with tears. "One look at your back says you'd do damn near anything for me. And I threw it away. I just threw it away …."
I opened my arms, and she fell into them. It had been the most vulnerable she'd made herself be and I felt her grief as if it were mine to bear. I held her silently, running my hands through her hair.
She sobbed into my neck. "Please don't cry, darling. I'd spare you tears for the rest of your life if I could."
Her breathing was uneven as she spoke. "I'll never see you again. It's all my fault."
I draped an arm around her, holding her to me. "No, I should have been more open." I buried my nose into her hair, taking in her scent. I was hurting. This ache in my chest— how could I let her walk out of my life? It would be the hardest thing I'd ever do. I closed my eyes and inhaled her, deeply.
"I should have been more patient," she sobbed.
"I should have proposed that night in your room."
"I should have let you."
I chuckled. Finally, we were both on the same page. It was then that America looked up at me and I swept the tears away from the hills of her cheeks. I sat there, a hand cupped to her face gazing into her eyes. My heart thundered seeing the pool of emotion behind them—words unspoken yet I felt them all.
There were so many moments I wished to relive, so many others I wanted to make just with her. If I had time to keep each of them bottled for ten lifetimes over I would pay a king's ransom for each precious memory.
"America … I don't know how much time we have left together, but I don't want to spend it regretting things we didn't do."
"Me either."
She turned her face into my palm, kissing it. Shivers lined my spine. My heart nearly convulsed. And my body, alert and male surged with a hunger reserved only for her. No other girl had such a devastating effect on me.
My lips parted watching her kiss the tips of each of my fingers. It was perhaps the most sensual act in my experience. Heat gathered low in my belly. I needed her now more than my next breath. And I took my next breath against her lips; the need to taste her overwhelming and powerfully intoxicating. I slid my hand deep into the silken softness of her hair and as our mouths parted we met each other, there.
It was a sweet, heavenly kiss. A kiss without reservations or any apprehensions. We breathed life into each other and those unspoken words didn't need letters or sentences strung together or punctuation marks for their meaning was all encompassed in this kiss.
We kissed, open-mouthed, unhurriedly, sharing breath as if we had a lifetime of kisses to share and not a mere few hours worth. It was smoldering and erotic. It was all-consuming because she was my center and I was hers. My kiss with Celeste didn't come close in comparison and I had no doubt that when Kriss and I would share our first kiss it wouldn't hold a candle to this.
We shifted, sliding to the floor. "Your back..." Her brow crinkled.
"Not a problem," I growled.
She smiled and together we found our places. America was the picture of loveliness as I hovered above. I ran my nose along her jawline, open kisses down her neck, across her shoulder, and kissed the same path back to her lips. My body thrummed with excitement. The pain in my back dulled unlike the throbbing of my erection which increased with painful intensity by the second.
Running her fingers through my hair made me feel adored. We kissed—deeper, hungrier. My hand began a southern exploration over the curve of her hip, her outer high and slowly, tentatively back up the side of her body until I reached the underside of her breast. She didn't protest or move away as I dared further up to cup her breast. I swallowed her moan with my kiss and her reaction to me served to make me harder still.
My lips dragged back down the column of her throat.
"Maxon..." She breathed in my ear as I kissed the warm flesh about the scooped neckline of her dress, brushing my lips over the swells of her lovely breasts peeking up behind the material.
I lowered my body, pressing against hers. She parted her legs wider and I was happy to settle between them; the hardest part of me pressed against her softness through our clothing. I wasn't about to show her how gentlemanly I could be. Quite the opposite. Because I was on the cusps of losing my fucking mind.
Both my hands curved over her luscious breasts and I kissed her mounds through the material. Were her nipples tipped a rosey hue of pink, I wondered. How hard were they? I brushed my thumbs across her breasts, amazed that I could feel the pebbled tips through her dress. Then I brought my mouth between her cleavage squeezing her breasts together as I licked. Her chest heaved, our breaths ragged and labored.
"I want to touch you too."
"God... I thought you'd never say that."
America ran a hand over the muscles of my abdomen. Her touch was a welcome fire making my abs twitch. Tentatively, she slipped a hand to my erection. A growl escaped me. As her fingers moved along my length my breaths brushed the sides of her face. I had to use any modicum of self-control I had left not to push my dick into her hand. When her touches became bolder, now squeezing, I panted, my manhood rigid and begging for relief.
The only sounds echoing in the safe room were the sounds of our kisses, the moans and groans of pleasure and the gasps of excitement.
I lay on my side allowing her free rein to express her heart through her lips on my bare chest, her tongue over my collarbone, a teasing, daring flick over my nipple. I cursed when she wrapped her lips around that very nipple and sucked in a breath when she repeated the action on the other as her hand continued roaming free over the bulge in my pants. And damn, did it feel incredible.
We stopped short of doing what our bodies yearned for, not making love, agreeing that as much as we both wanted to take things there, such a final step would only serve to complicate matters in the end. That had been one of the toughest decisions to make but the right one in both of our opininons.
We eventually pulled out some blankets and built a makeshift bed. I held her close to me for the longest time, looking into her eyes, unbelieving that we had been gifted this precious time together. My only regret was that this would soon come to an end.
Once my shirt was dry, I put it on, covering the dried stains with my coat, and curled up next to America again. It felt so easy and natural to do that. We settled, her back pressed to my chest, my arm wrapped around her. A contented sigh of weariness floated from her. I smiled against her hair because I was tired as well but I didn't want to sleep through a second of this.
"Do you think you'll go back to him? Your ex?" I hated the question as much as the thought behind it. I didn't want to imagine him having this, having her and not me. Enjoying what I'd just enjoyed. I frowned, resting my chin on the crown of her head.
"He's a good choice. Smart, brave, maybe the only person on the planet more stubborn than me."
I laughed lightly only to spare myself the gut wrenching in my belly. Damn, I despised the guy, whoever he was.
"It would be awhile before I could think about that though."
"Mmm." My tongue thankfully restrained my thoughts but I felt a weird sense of jubilation that she wasn't going back home and immediately rushing into his arms for comfort. It made me a selfish bastard but I was glad. She'd still be thinking about us, about me and all that we had shared before she moved on. At least I knew that for a little while longer I'd still own a piece of her heart.
I held her hand feeling how small and delicate it was, feeling the slight calluses I'd come to love. My eyes were starting to close as I began drifting.
"Could I write you?" I asked sleepily, rubbing my thumb along the hand I held.
"Maybe you should wait a few months. You might not even miss me."
Was she joking? I gave an almost-laugh. I was letting go of my heart and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
"If you do write … you have to tell Kriss," she said.
"You're right." I had to let her go. Reality was an unforgiving bitch. It wouldn't be fair to her nor Kriss but I was too tired to consider it further.
A few moments later America blurted through the haziness of my head something about a book and the Northern rebels looking for the diaries.
I shifted, still not quite alert as she looked over her shoulder at me. "What do you mean?"
"When I was chased that day in the gardens, I saw them as they passed me. A girl dropped a bag full of books. The guy with her had bunches, too. They're stealing books. What if they're looking for a specific one?"
I opened my eyes, squinting in thought. Was she talking about Gregory Illéa's diary? "America … what exactly was in that diary?"
"A lot. About how Gregory basically stole the country, how he forced the castes on people. It was awful, Maxon."
"But the Report was cut off," I insisted. "Even if that is what they're looking for, there's no way they could know that was it or what's inside it. Trust me, after that little display, my father is making sure those things are even more protected than usual."
"That's it." She covered her face, stifling a yawn. "I know it."
"Don't... Don't get worked up," I said. "For all we know, they just really, really like to read."
She moaned at my attempt at humor. "I seriously thought I couldn't make this any worse."
"Shh," I said, coming closer, wrapping my arms around her. "Don't worry now. You should probably sleep."
"But I don't want to," she whispered, curling closer into me.
I closed my eyes again, still holding on to her, reveling in her presence, in her scent and the feel and heat of her body.
"Me either. Even on a good day, sleeping makes me nervous."
I wasn't sure why I admitted that but I had no barriers left when it came to America. She had obliterated them all.
I let go of her hand. With my eyes still closed I reached into the pocket of my trousers and hooked my fingers around the object inside. I found her hand again and started tying it on her wrist.
"I've been carrying it in my pocket. I'm a pitiful romantic, right? I was going to keep it, but I want you to have something from me."
I'd put the bracelet, the one I bought her in New Asia back where it belonged.
"Thank you. It makes me happy."
"Then I'm happy, too." We didn't say anything else as sleep claimed us.
WE'RE COMING
Over and over, the warrning was scrawled by any means the rebels could find; the level of destruction, surreal. Blood stained the carpet where no doubt someone, a guard perhaps had been killed. Broken glass, everywhere littered the marred floor. Deep gouges puckered the walls as if they'd held some secret that had been forcibly gutted from them while the flickering lights eerily reminded me of the palace's heartbeat fighting to stay alive.
This was the reality we stepped into once we exited the confines of the safe room amidst a flurry of guards and butlers and for a moment I didn't blame America for not wanting to be party to any of this.
Death had come and I wondered how close we had been to it.
Adding to everyone's anxiety we were informed by Officer Markson that the families of the Selected had been contacted directly by the palace for their safety. In an attempt to stop the Selection, rebels had attacked Natalie's family. Guards were being dispatched at once to each of the homes of the remaining Selected for their protection.
"The king was adamant that none of the girls should go," said Officer Markson.
"What if they want to?" I challenged. "We can't hold them here against their will."
"Of course, sir. You'll need to speak with the king."
"You won't have to guard my family long," America said, breaking some of the tension between myself and the guard. "Let them know I'll be home soon."
His eyes flickered between America and me, looking to confirm that she'd been eliminated. My stomach roiled but I simply nodded once.
"Yes, miss," he said with a bow.
The moment was awkward enough so I interjected, "Is my mother in her room?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell her I'm coming. You're dismissed."
Markson gave a nod and turned back down the hall.
We were alone again. I took America's hand.
"Don't rush away. Say good-bye to your maids and any of the girls if you want. And eat something. I know how you love the food."
She smiled at our private joke.
"I will."
I wet my lips. The uneasiness knowing this was our last conversation made it tougher to let go of her— that this was good-bye. "You've changed me forever. And I'll never forget you." There was a melancholy sound in my voice.
America wouldn't be here tomorrow when I woke. I wouldn't see her at breakfast or hear the lilting sound of her laugh or the music of the strings on her violin. There would be an empty place, a void that terrified me.
I cast my eyes down to my chest where she ran her free hand, straightening my coat. "Don't tug your ear with anyone else. That's mine."
Bright, shimmering eyes looked at me as she gave me a tight smile.
I swallowed. "A lot of things are yours, America."
I registered the movement of her throat as she reined in her emotions with the grace of a princess. "I need to go."
I nodded then kissed her once, quickly, on the lips, and ran down the hall not bearing to look over my shoulder at her one last time.
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with
I cracked the door to my mother's bedroom hearing the sounds of sniffles and the low, comforting sound of female voices, my mother's ladies.
"Mom?" I called. "It's me."
Pushing the door open I heard my mother gasp, jumping from the high back chair where she'd been sitting surrounded by her lady's maids. Before I could count to three I was enveloped by my mother's loving arms, her kisses peppering my face.
"I'm okay, Mom… really!" I felt heat on my cheeks as my mother's maids stood there, grinning like Cheshire cats at the affectionate scene before them. I shouldn't have felt embarrassed but I was a man now and yet I suppose that regardless of my age my mom would always be, mom.
"Are you unhurt?" she asked, her eyes swollen from crying, the tip of her nose like a small cherry. She took a step back, holding me by my arms, assessing, making sure there were no visible wounds that needed immediate attention.
She ran a hand over my brow through my hair. I did the teenage boy thing and groaned a little. "Really, I'm fine, Mom. See?" I spread my arms wide to the side for her to see that all my parts were perfectly intact.
"I was worried sick. They told me they didn't know where you were!"
"I know. I'm sorry. The guard that was to deliver my message unfortunately never made it to you. He was killed."
My mother nodded in understanding. "Yes, I know." She let loose a weary sigh. "His family... we will make sure they will be well taken care of. So, may he rest in peace," she whispered, placing a hand on her chest.
My mother's tender heart never ceased to amaze me. Even in our darkest hours she always had her people in mind. Always cared for them. If there was ever anything my father did right was marrying my mom.
This attack had been the worst yet and I felt a sense of guilt that I'd been a catalyst to the increased activity and violence from both rebel factions. This Selection had to end. The sooner, the better. But the thought that America would be leaving me... stabbed me at the core. I felt the knife twisting in my gut.
"What is the matter?" my mother asked. She must've seen my uneasiness written on my face or was it motherly instincts as they say?
I didn't have to voice one word. One glance is all it took and I heard my mother say over her shoulder to her maids, "Leave us."
With a curtsy, her lady's maids quickly shuffled out of the room and once the door clicked closed I let out a sigh.
I immediately walked over to the bench at the foot of my mother's bed. Exasperated, I took a seat, propped an elbow on my knee and buried my face in the palm of my hand.
My mother's gentle caress on my back almost made me flinch but I could give nothing away. Only one other person on earth knew that secret and it made the knife in my chest twist a bit more. "Do you wish to talk about it?"
I scrubbed my face. My mom had always offered me encouragement and sound words of advice. She had always been my one true ally. And right now, I needed one.
"I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Mom." I confessed because I felt untethered and hopeless.
Looking up at her she cupped my face, her hand small and soft against my 24-hour shadow. Her eyes were limned with a pride and a love that I suppose only a mother could offer. I reached for the life line she cast in her gaze, hanging on whatever words she could offer me now.
"I know this process hasn't been easy for you."
"You're telling me," I snickered
"It isn't supposed to be. It's one of the most important decisions you will make in your life, Maxon. I do not envy your position. However, I see how you look at these girls. You care for them but it doesn't make your task any easier." She paused, dropping her hand to my shoulder.
"Anyone of these girls would be fortunate to have you." She offered a warm smile. "You are kind, you're smart and clever. But most importantly, Maxon, you have heart. It is your greatest asset. I see that spark of hope and life in your eyes. And because of that fact, you will make a wonderful king. And I'm not being biased just because you're my son." She arched a brow, "Well, maybe a little."
I gave a small laugh. Damn, how did things get so complicated?
"How could I be a wonderful anything when I managed to lose the only girl I want by my side?" My brows crinkled at the thought, my throat swallowing that damned knot holding my emotions. "I'm sending America home."
The look of sadness in her expression told me she understood my turmoil.
"You love her, don't you?"
I nodded.
There was a sudden, unmistakable twinkle in her eyes. "Then that's all the reason you need to fight." Her fingers tightened on my shoulders; a gesture of encouragement. "Fight for what you want, Maxon. If Lady America is the one you truly love then you must fight for her."
"But father is insisting he make the choice now, how..."
She interrupted. "Your father as always been an ass when it came to matters of the heart." My eyes widened at that. I'd never heard my mother speak of my father that way. She'd always been complimentary of him. But, I was inwardly pleased I wasn't the only one who thought he was an ass.
"Your father may be king but I am your mother and I am telling you that if that girl is worth fighting for then you better find a way to make your happily ever after one of your own making." She looked at me with a serious, motherly look. "Life will not just hand you the things you want most without a fight. This Selection isn't over yet. Fight for you, Maxon. For you."
Leaving my mother's bedroom I felt determined. She was right. The Selection wasn't over and this was my choice; not my father's. I was going to put up a fight for me, for my life, for my happiness, for my heart. I had already suffered a lashing what more could my father do to me? Disown his only heir? Yeah… right.
My plan came to me in a flash. A smile spread over my mouth.
Playing by the rules? Well, fuck that shit.
If my father felt comfortable enough to bend the rules to fit his agenda, well then, so could I.
I bolted from my room.
The meeting with my father had gone surprisingly better than I expected. Of course, I laid on the guilt trip extra thick. Telling my father it had been his fault why my life had been in danger in the first place was a card I willfully played. I saw the subtle flinch of guilt on his face at my accusatory words. Still no apology came; not that I expected one. My father wasn't one long for sentimental drivel as he called it.
Quickly we moved on to the matter at hand. Which girl would be the next to go? I had to suffer the usual grilling about my decision. I stood my ground, pushing back, making my point. America was staying. That was final.
I had pondered much about my situation with America. Last night had been the first time we'd really spoken about our true feelings for each other. And those feelings we had expressed through kisses and caresses and whispers.
Pausing just long enough to peek at my watch as I briskly walked down the hall, I cursed. There wasn't much time. Not if I wanted to save my future.
Rushing down the stairs and down the halls, I ignored everyone. Staff was still busy with clean-up and repairs after the attack but I only had one focus in mind. Getting to America!
I ran to America's room but it was empty when I opened the door. Damn! I slammed a hand on the door frame. Not wasting one more second I took off down another flight of stairs unto the main floor skidding on the marble floor as I passed by a window. I took a glance at the circular driveway. Good. The car assigned to take America to the airport was still there, which meant she was still in the palace.
I didn't want to chance missing her. My best option I figured, was to intercept her at the car. At least that would be the one place I knew I'd see her for sure.
I didn't have to wait to get to the car.
She stood by the front door, reaching for the handle. My dream was about to leave the building. My life.
"America?" I called from the other end of the corridor, my heart in my throat.
She turned, facing me. I didn't even realize when I started moving.
"Hey," she greeted and just hearing her voice made my heart do a cartwheel.
My steps were quick. I was a man on a very important mission. And as I took her in I hadn't regretted for a moment the pack of lies I had just laid on my father.
"You look absolutely breathtaking."
"Thank you," she seemed to blush, touching the fabric of her purple dress.
I stared at her.
So beautiful. So fiery. So mine.
Sensing the silence between us I cleared my throat, coming back to myself and said, "I've spoken with my father."
"Oh?"
"Yes. He was quite happy I wasn't killed last night. As you might have guessed, carrying on the royal line is very important to him. I explained to him that I nearly died because of his temper," truth, "and attributed my finding a hiding place to you." Which we know of course, is bending the truth… quite a bit.
"But I didn't—"
"I know. But he needn't." I gave her a smile. "I then told him that I set you straight on some behavioral things. Again, he needn't know that's untrue; but you could act like it happened, if you wanted."
She looked a bit confused at what I was hinting so I clarified, "Considering that I owe you my life as far as he knows, he agreed that my desire to keep you here might be somewhat justified, so long as you were on your best behavior and could learn your place."
America stared at me, unbelieving. I wondered what was going on in her head.
"Really, the fair thing to do it's to let Natalie go. She's not cut out for this; and with her family grieving right now, her home is the best place for her. We've already spoken."
She remained virtually speechless, her mouth slightly gaped.
"Shall I explain?" I offered.
"Please."
I reached for her hand loving how it felt in mine, recalling the places of me she'd touched last night. I wanted to pull her in and share a part of what we'd left behind locked in that safe room. But, after last night and everything that'd happened, things had to be different. The Selection wasn't just our game any longer. And the unspoken rules we'd been playing by had changed.
"You will stay here as a member of the Selection and still be a part of the competition, but things will be different. My father will probably be harsh toward you and do whatever he can to make you fail. I think there are some ways to fight that, but it will take time. You know how ruthless he is. You have to prepare yourself."
I smiled inwardly when she nodded. "I can do that."
"There's more." I looked down at the carpet mulling over what I was about to say. "America, there's no question that you've had my heart from the beginning. By now you have to know that." I raised my head, connecting with those magnificent blue orbs, every one of those words an unmistakable truth.
"I do."
My heart was happy to hear it but this time I couldn't allow it to be in control. So I added, "But what you do not have right now is my trust."
"What?" I could see she was stricken by that.
"I've shown you so many of my secrets, defended you in every way I can. But when you aren't pleased with me, you act rashly. You shut me out, blame me, or, most impressively, try to change the entire country."
She winced. I hated the need for these new rules but she had to understand, this wasn't just a game. This was my future. And I needed to take back control of it.
"I need to know that I can depend on you. I need to know that you can keep my secrets, trust my judgment, and not hold things back from me. I need you to be completely honest with me and stop questioning every decision I make. I need you to have faith in me, America."
America fiddled with her hands. I knew she got what I was telling her. "I do have faith in you. And I hope you can see that I want to be with you. But you could have been more honest with me, too."
I nodded. "Perhaps. And there are things I want to tell you, but many of the things I know are of such a nature that they cannot be shared if there's even a minuscule chance that you can't keep them to yourself. I need to know that you can do that. And I need you to be wholly open with me."
America took a breath ready to reply when a voice from behind us interrupted our conversation.
"Maxon, there you are." Kriss called, rounding the corner.
Damn.
"I didn't get to ask you earlier if we were still on for dinner tonight."
I kept my eyes glued to America as I replied, "Of course. We'll eat in your room."
"Wonderful!" Kriss cried out.
I could see the hurt in America's eyes. I hated being the one to have put it there but it was now unavoidable.
Kriss neared saying, "America? Are you leaving?"
America looked at me. This was awkward but she had to accept how the tables had turned. This Selection was my one shot at happiness. And I was going to finish this my way.
"No, Kriss, not today."
"Good." She sighed, then wrapped America in a hug. Wether the hug was genuine or part of Kriss' strategy I didn't know. What I did know was that Kriss knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that America was her toughest competition. Kriss may be sweet and agreeable but she wasn't stupid.
"I was really worried about you last night," she said to America. `I'm glad you're okay."
"Thanks, it was lucky—"
Whatever America was close to revealing she stopped herself from doing so. She cleared her throat. "Lucky the guards got there so fast."
"Thank goodness. Well, I'll see you later." Kriss chirped then turning to me, "And I'll see you tonight."
After Kriss left us, walking away buoyantly after confirming our dinner plans in the presence of her rival, part of me wanted to apologize to America but I couldn't. We had crossed a threshold and there was no going backwards.
"I know you don't like that, but I need her. If you let me down, she's my best bet."
"It doesn't matter," she answered with a shrug. "I won't let you down."
My heart swelled and hope sprang alive inside me once again. America gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and I watched her leave in the direction to her room.
She didn't look back.
I was glad she didn't.
I was wearing the biggest shit eating grin of my life.
Because the girl I wanted above all others hadn't given up on us. There was still plenty of fight left in her. In both of us.
I turned on my heels, my smile wider, my confidence soaring as I headed toward a brighter tomorrow.
Yes, the fight wasn't over because I was only getting started.
Check out the classic which inspired me: "Time in a Bottle" ~ lyrics and song by Jim Croce
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