Chapter 6

Tobias

Now that I had accepted my imprint on Arya, I was constantly aware of her presence—and the lack thereof. A fact I was currently wrestling with as I prepared myself for our impending date.

When she wasn't in my line of sight, I physically ached. Even now, standing in my bathroom putting product in my hair, it hurt not to be close to her. There was this incessant, nagging compulsion to go to her, whether I was in class, in the shower, and especially while I tried to sleep.

Last night had been the most restless night I could remember, not only because I was worked up over her getting locked in the Simulation Room and almost dying, but because my every nerve fiber longed for her closeness. I found myself spooning my pillow multiple times throughout the night, startling awake in frustration at realizing it wasn't her.

It was a ridiculous notion. Arya and I had never been together like that, and yet I missed it as if it were a long-standing arrangement that suddenly stopped. I told myself it was because I'd held her last night after I stopped the sim. That had felt so right. Even though I was terrified for her safety at the time, I looked back on that moment with a strange fondness and a deep longing.

I leaned with my palms on the edge of my vanity in front of the mirror and blew out a breath.

"We're totally fucked," I whispered to my reflection. He just looked back at me like the dumbass we were.

All of these feelings, they were just physical. I had imprinted. That was a physical condition due to chemistry. It didn't mean I had to like her, and it certainly didn't mean I had to love her. I could enjoy the chemical benefits of dopamine and serotonin while I was in her company. I just had to always remember that these sensations were purely physical. I couldn't allow them to influence my emotions or my heart.

She was basically a drug to me. A heroin addict doesn't fall in love with the substance, much less the syringe that delivers it or the dealer that supplies it. This had to remain a transaction. Nothing more.

My phone ping ed, forcing me to look away from my reflection and down at the device where it sat on the counter beside the faucet. There was a message on the screen.

From Arthur.

Good luck on your date. I'm proud of you, son.

Rolling my eyes, I swiped away the message and shoved the phone in my back pocket.

Of course, I'd told Arthur about the date. He had expected results, and such news would satisfy him against his threat to take me out of school and enlist me in the military. But that didn't mean I didn't feel slimy doing it. Seeing that text now made me think of so many things that I just didn't want to dwell on.

I had a date to meet up for.

I grabbed my wallet and left the room, heading through the halls to the school's entrance. Each step that brought me closer made me more anxious, almost giddy. My calves sizzled with nervous energy, making each stride longer, faster. All other thoughts fell away. My singular thought was, I'm going to see her. I need to see her.

I pushed the vault-style door open with more force than necessary, then froze in the entrance when I saw her standing on the platform.

She literally took my breath away. And, for a split second, my heartbeat.

She was wearing a simple pink sweater dress that was simultaneously anything but ordinary. Though it covered her arms, torso, and upper thighs completely, it hugged every dip and curve of her lithe form, making her just about the sexiest thing on two legs—or tail, for that matter.

The creamy skin of her legs peeked out from beneath her ruffled skirt a few modest inches above her knee-high suede boots, and the sight made my dick swell with hunger. My mouth watered, and I was helpless not to imagine licking those perfect thighs, up and up, and finally feasting on her undoubtedly delicious center.

Stop it!

She turned at the sound of the door clanking open and smiled at me, her black waves swaying over her shoulders with the motion.

"Hi," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear in what seemed to be a timid gesture.

Her greeting restarted my heart and respiratory system, and I stepped over the threshold toward her. "Hi."

We stood side-by-side in awkward silence as we waited for the train to come. I wanted so badly to press her up against the wall of the tunnel and claim her right here. The struggle to restrain myself kept me entirely too distracted to think of anything to say.

"So, where are we going?" she asked, and I was so relieved for a topic that I inadvertently bounced on the balls of my feet.

Realizing that probably made me look like a spaz, I made a show of rocking back and forth on my heels in a casual manner, like I was totally relaxed.

"I thought we'd go mini-golfing," I replied, offering her a smile and trying not to look down at her tempting thighs.

Her brows flared. "Oh. I wasn't expecting that."

Her reaction made me pause. Did she not like the idea? Was she hoping for a fancy restaurant? Arthur had insisted on that option, but that seemed too intimate a setting. Being stuck on the opposite end of a cozy booth with her in a dimly lit space, forced to stare at her too pretty face, smell her intoxicating scent… That was too dangerous to risk, at least until I got a handle on this.

"I just thought we could do something fun together after being cooped up on campus every day. But if you'd rather go to a nice sit-down place, we can definitely do that instead." I could find a place that wouldn't push us too close together. Or maybe—

"No, I like this idea," she said. "I'd much rather do something than sit at a booth staring awkwardly at each other."

She laughed, and I couldn't help but smile because we seemed to be on the same page, though for very different reasons.

"Besides, I never really get to be outside at night, and doing that at the Dome still isn't really being ‘outside,'" she added. "It'll be nice to play games under the stars."

I frowned at that comment as the train pulled in before us. "Why don't you get to be outside at night? Before coming here, I mean?"

Her eyes widened slightly, and her face paled as if she'd let something slip that she hadn't meant to.

The doors of the train slid open, but neither of us moved as I waited for her to respond—or to dismiss me entirely. I could've changed the subject or invited her to get on the train with me, but I was too curious to let it go. I wanted to know her secrets. Her past. Her flaws. Maybe I'd find something repugnant that would secure my heart from her.

Finally, she cleared her throat and looked down at her feet. "My mom had these crazy rules. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere near pools or beaches, or go outside the house after dark, or do anything on social media. Ever."

Silence followed her confession, and she looked ashamed to admit this to me. While I was deeply intrigued by what she said and wanted to pry further, I didn't like how she wouldn't meet my gaze or the sadness that clung to her features. I felt the irrational urge to come to her defense rather than ask follow-up questions like I should have. Damn pheromones.

I shrugged. "Well, that sucks, but your mom sounds way better than my dad. He's basically treated me like a soldier since I could walk."

She glanced sideways at me, interest replacing the shame on her face. "Really?"

I nodded, satisfied to see the change in her somber demeanor. "Every morning started with workout drills, and every evening ended with a three-mile jog. I wasn't allowed to speak unless I referred to him as ‘Sir,' and if I didn't sit up straight at the dinner table, he'd make me stand against the wall with my arms held out straight until bedtime."

She gaped at me in surprise. "What? He really made you do that?"

In lieu of a reply, I stood rod straight and held my arms out like a T, the way I'd done so many times in my youth at Arthur's command.

She giggled. "Omigod, that's awful."

I chuckled and stepped toward the open doors, holding my hand out in a dramatic theatrical gesture. "Come on. Your carriage awaits."

She laughed and climbed into the train; I followed behind her just in time for the doors to slide closed.

Of course, what I described wasn't the worst of my father's tyrannical treatment. But she didn't need to know the level of abuse I'd endured. Those were things I'd never told anyone. And the last thing I wanted was her pity.

She picked a seat, and I sat beside her as the train began to move down the track. I thought about her mother's rules for a moment, dissecting them analytically. The rule against pools and beaches made sense, given that Arya was a mermaid. For some reason, her mother must've wanted to keep that from her. But the other two were…odd. Unless she just feared creeps trying to abduct her daughter.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did your mom have those rules?" I asked, hoping that the trauma I'd volunteered had earned me access to her truths. "They're strangely specific."

Arya chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. "Well, I now understand the first one was to keep me from discovering I was a mermaid."

Just as I suspected. "Why would she do that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she replied with a sigh. "And as for the other two rules, I have no idea. My mom was a woman of many secrets. And now, I'll never know what they were."

Her eyes misted over, and she looked away from me as if to hide her pain. She didn't know that I could feel it like it was my own. Or that I had the absurd urge to wrap her in my arms and comfort her until the pain melted away.

There were so many things I wanted to ask, so many avenues I wanted to explore to find out if she might be the siren or why vampires might have killed her mother. Could that be why she wouldn't allow Arya out after dark? Did she somehow know they'd target her daughter? Though, apparently, remaining indoors at night didn't save her from the vampires' clutches.

But I couldn't ask any of the questions running through my mind. There was a lump in my throat preventing me from voicing them.

So I changed tack. "What was it like growing up as a human?"

She turned to me with a cute wrinkle in her nose, blinking at me several times.

"I don't know how to answer that." She laughed and frowned. "It's the only thing I ever knew. What was it like growing up as a shifter?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Okay, fair point. Although, my upbringing wasn't really normal for most shifters."

She nodded. "I think we can agree that we have that in common. We were both raised in gilded cages. Mine was built of obscure rules, and yours of strict expectation."

Her words struck me. She might be the first person who could really understand me and where I came from. We were so different, and yet, the similarities were masterful in their intricacy. Our eyes met, and I had never felt so seen.

So naturally, I looked away.

Keep it physical. Don't get too close.

The train mercifully slowed, and I jumped out of my seat before it came to a full stop. Why was it so difficult to be alone with her? I was either tempted to rip her clothes off or melt into those ocean-blue eyes like a love-sick puppy.

Thank goodness we were going to a public place, outside, with no intimate confined spaces. However, I was getting less and less confident that any number of onlookers or any amount of distance would keep her safe from me—or me from her.