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   Chapter 35 NO.35

The Rouges By Alzek16 Characters: 15355

Updated: 2018-01-05 17:52

THERE WERE MINOR injuries- a few bullet grazes, a couple shallow knife wounds and Archer had a concussion-but overall we had been very fortunate. The reconnaissance mission hadn't been a complete waste. The access to The Sanctuary was definitely not on the premises, but Archer's team had found a surprise stash of Sanctuary-grade weaponry in the warehouse. Technology that advanced had definitely not come from Tartarus. There was a surplus of heat-seeking guns, titanium knives, motion sensor bombs and lightweight body armor. While we didn't find the entrance to The Sanctuary, we did find proof that someone was smuggling weapons out to the Ravagers. And if there was a way to get weapons out, then there was a way to get in.

Once we were back inside I avoided everyone. I helped get Archer to Doc Porters and then slipped out during the chaos. I felt Triven's eyes on me as I left, but I didn't stop. I couldn't even bear to find Mouse, to tell her I was okay, because I wasn't. I couldn't look at her innocent face after what I had done. Not yet anyway.

There was still blood on my hands. Some of it was my own, but the rest was a morbid reminder of what I had just done. I practically ran to the shower room, eager to wash the evidence from my skin, to shed my tainted clothing and hide behind the locked door.

I stood in the shower until it turned cold and even then I couldn't shake the sickness rolling through my stomach. I had scrubbed at my hands until they were raw. The Taciturns' blood had long since washed off, now only my own tinted the water as I ran the soap over my raw skin. My knuckles were bruised and split, but I continued to scrub until they burned. I had never lost control before, never forgotten who I was, but tonight I did. And it had almost cost Triven his life. The person I had leapt from a building to save, nearly died at my own hand in my blinded rage.

When I finally emerged from the shower room- with the feeling of death still on my skin- there was a figure leaning against the wall waiting for me. She was moving, slower than usual, her dark eyes still slightly unfocused. I hovered in the doorway watching her.

Archer hesitated, "Um... Triven told me what you did."

I cringed. Waiting for her wrath. I deserved it. I had almost killed him.

"I am in your debt. Thank you for saving my life." She couldn't meet my eyes.

That was not what I had been expecting.

"Oh... It was nothing really." I had saved Archer, but for the first time in my life I ended another's out of rage, not self-defense. I felt sick again.

"Mmm, yeah... well I owe you one. And I pay my debts." She shifted her weight uneasily. Relying on others was obviously not easy for her either. "Are you headed to the party?"

"Party?" I stared blankly at her. What could we possibly have to celebrate?

"We usually have a gathering after every recon mission. When a member dies we gather to mourn. When we all return home, we celebrate life." Archer's eyes lit on mine for a brief second. "This is the first time we have been able to celebrate in a while."

I nodded, understanding her. She had come very close to being mourned tonight. Before I could refuse, she wrapped her thin hand over the crook of my elbow for support. I flinched, which made her smile. She was so much taller and more beautiful than me. While we were about the same age, I must have looked like a child next to her.

"The choice to go is yours, but if I'm being honest, I could use a hand getting there. The floor still seems to tilt at odd angles if I move my head too fast."

I surprised myself by smiling back at her. "Lead the way."

The celebration was being held in the dining hall. Tables had been pushed to the walls and the lights dimmed. People were gathered throughout the room. I could see other members from our mission scattered among the groups. People were clapping them on the backs, hugging them. Several residents had makeshift instruments and were playing music in the corner. Spirits seemed high. Then, someone saw us. Cheers erupted from the crowd as faces turned in our direction. Archer let go of my arm and I let her walk forward to her people. I turned to leave, but other hands found me. A few brave souls patted me on the shoulders while drawing me into the room. Most people just shared warm smiles and inclined heads as I passed.

It was a strange feeling. I was not one of them, yet they were welcoming me. Well, most of them were. Arstid stood like a porcelain statue in the back corner of the room. The bald-headed Willets was at her side.

She kn

side of me- I was sure it was Cook's brew that had lowered my usually steeled walls. I looked up into those perfect eyes and nodded. His returning smile could have melted stone.

The hallways seemed to pass in a blur as I followed him. I stared, mesmerized by my hand in his. Less than a month ago, I wouldn't have let anyone touch me, much less as a sign of affection. But it felt good, he felt good. We made it back to our room without passing anyone. It seemed everyone was at the celebration tonight. Triven held the door open for me and I could barely meet his eyes as I brushed past his chest. When the door clanked shut, I froze.

What was I doing? This was a bad idea. Getting attached to another person could only cause me more pain. I knew all of that but I still wanted this. Every cell in my body wanted this. In that moment I was sure that every pore of me ached for this. It had taken Cook's brew to allow me to be honest with myself, and now I finally realized what I had been so vehemently denying. I wanted him.

Triven's warm fingers traveled over my bare shoulders, causing me to shiver. I turned to face him. His hazel eyes were like warm honey and his lips were flushed. My heart began to race as his hands continued to brush over my arms.

"This isn't a good idea." I said staring at his lips.

His hands moved to my jaw, sliding across the slender bones to the nape of my neck.

"Triven..." I whispered. I was trying to warn him. I wasn't a good choice. I was broken, damaged goods. I was scarred. He deserved better than what I could offer him. He deserved more than what I was. I was too hollow, too ruined, too broken.

He lowered his face to mine and I sucked in a scared breath. He stopped, his lips inches from mine. His eyes scanned my face, but he didn't move. We stayed like this for what felt like an eternity. His breath was warm and sweet on my face. I knew what he was doing. Even in his state of lowered inhibitions, he wasn't going to move. He was waiting for me to make the last move, telling me it was my choice.

Push him away. My mind screamed. I knew this was a bad idea, that it would only lead to pain. Push him away! I pressed my palms to his chest, ready to shove him away but my heart rebelled. Moving with the speed of desperation, I clutched him and pressed my lips to his.


THERE YOU FREAKING GO!!!!!!!!!!!! I know y'all have been waiting for this since a zillion years! To be honest for me, writing romantic or intimate scenes is a struggle at a whole new level. I would have to do all kinds of satanic rituals and human sacrifices to get one sentence right (jk jk don't sue me :) ). If it were up to me I'd pay EL James to fricking take over for chapter like these BUT then it's my story and the genre demands such scenes. Not that i despise them but they are the hardest scenes for me to write!!! :) :)

Also what do you guys think of Triven? Do let me know!



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