Chapter 13 Anxious

— 13 —

ANXIOUS

Oz

THE DOOR CLICKS shut as I step into the hallway. I force the air from my lungs in a rush, then slowly fill them again. My veins are throbbing with a heavy pulse of desire. A steady beat sends bursts of dark lust to flood the smoothly flowing streams of blood, turning them to black rapids.

This woman makes me feel things I'm afraid to feel… Things that are wicked and filthy, dangerous and obsessive, possessive and uncontrollable.

It was a mistake to bring her inside my home, though it's one I could easily rectify. I could still take her to the holding house and let one of my Vultures take over with her. But I know I'm not going to.

Angel nudges my hand, and I squat to give her some attention. Her entire body twists back and forth as she comes between my knees. I cup her giant face in both hands, gently scratching and rubbing the way she likes as she presses close. I let her lap at my cheek as I pet her. I tell her what a good dog she is. I give her the love she deserves.

"You're my girl, Angel. The only one I need."

That's great. Keep telling yourself lies, motherfucker.

I kiss the top of her head before standing, then I point at the floor in front of the bedroom door. "Stay." Instantly, she moves to the spot and sits. "Guard." Her ears perk up at the word, and her back straightens on alert.

She'll stay there until I get back. That's the expectation, and on any given day I would have no doubt she'll do just that. But the way she greeted Gemma still has me wary that she's suddenly forgotten all her training. I still don't know what to make of that, but for now, I have to trust her loyalty and obedience.

I don't know enough about Gemma to leave her alone for long, so I hustle downstairs, make a right, and enter the garage. I pause in front of the breaker to check the analog clock hanging on the drywall above it.

8:03 P.M.

Our negotiated electrical access is granted precisely at eight o'clock, and since it's three minutes past, I know we'll have power as soon as I flip the switches. We have a strict rule against drawing electricity to more than two circuits at a time in each personal home, so I only switch on power to the master suite and to the kitchen and living room, which runs on the same circuit. Our contract with Prosperity requires us to guarantee full electrical access to Eden during the negotiated hours, so following this rule ensures we don't overflow the system.

I feel a bit of relief knowing Gemma's no longer sitting in the dark, all alone. She was probably fine, but somehow it makes me feel better knowing she can see her surroundings. Hopefully, she'll realize there's an en suite bathroom and make use of it if she needs to. She didn't seem so detached from the present that I should be concerned about her sitting there in a vegetative state, pissing herself because she couldn't think to get up and use the toilet. I don't even know if that's a thing that happens with dissociation. Never happened to me, though that doesn't mean it hasn't happened to anyone.

I don't know what made her slip away, what shifted her from an all-out brawl into docile submission. All I remember is the feeling of it, the shift of her energy as she drew back inside her mind. And it was something I did or said that triggered it.

Maybe it won't happen again if I keep giving her reasons to fight me. Maybe I just like the fight and want to justify poking the bear. As if I've flipped the switch myself, I feel a surge of electricity shoot through me, a sizzling flow of sparking heat that rushes through my cock.

Goddamn.

I need to hurry so I can get back to her.

I rush back through the house and exit through the front door, locking it behind me, and then head down the street toward the holding house.

Most of the Vultures selected homes closer to Eden, though there are a few outliers farther out from the noise and chaos. Aside from mine and the holding house, there's only one other occupied home on this cul-de-sac. These three houses glow with light from within, but otherwise, the street is dark.

All the other unoccupied homes are shadows of what they might have been, dark blemishes that stain the night. For me, they're a haunting reminder of all the dark nights I spent alone in the desert with only the stars to keep me company.

I'm lucky to be here. The girls we picked up are lucky to be here. Gemma's fucking lucky, and she'll show me gratitude before long.

I follow the guiding light of a single streetlamp illuminating the intersection of the cul-de-sac and the cross street up ahead. We only use streetlamps in a few places. A little bit of light helps us move safely through the Gates at night, but we also don't want to attract too much attention from outsiders—not that I'm particularly worried about a barrier breech, but it's always a possibility.

I reach the holding house near the end of the street and make my way up the driveway, turn to follow the walkway to the front door. I hear voices from within as I step onto the portico landing, and though the curtains are drawn over the large window to my right, the living room lights cast a glow from behind them.

I have my own key, so I let myself in and lock the door behind me. A few steps ahead, the entryway wall opens around a corner to reveal the living room on my right. Hayes sits in a brown leather armchair that's angled in my direction. His elbows are on his knees as he leans forward, watching the girl sitting across from him on the matching sofa.

"… and that's fair," Hayes says, mid-conversation, "but it still doesn't answer the question. Why did you do it?"

I glance at the girl. She's got one foot tucked beneath her as she leans an elbow on the armrest. She's still giving him eye contact, though she anxiously picks at her fingernails.

Hayes glances in my direction, but quickly returns his attention to her—exactly as he should in the middle of questioning. Maybe I'll tell him later that I've noticed he's doing better, but not right now. It's clear the girl is anxious as fuck, and I don't want to distract him. He needs to watch her carefully to get a good sense of whether she's lying. I rely on these men to help me determine whether someone's right or wrong for our community.

"Zuri?" I ask.

The girl on the couch swivels her head at the sound of my voice.

"With the girl," Hayes says quickly. "Last room on the left."

I give the girl a severe look. "Don't lie to him. He'll know. Then you'll have to answer to me."

Her eyes widen as she bobs her head.

Hayes snaps his fingers in front of her. "Hey, answer the question. Why did you do it?"

She turns her eyes back to Hayes and starts talking. Her speech is quiet and slow, but she's talking.

At least we got one obedient girl today…

I head past the living room and turn down the hall. On my right, there's a bedroom with the door cracked open, and voices filter out from within.

"I can take a shower? Seriously?" The girl inside the room lets out a laugh. "I don't even know what to say. Here I thought I'd be fighting to survive the night. Do you know how much I've dreaded this day? I can't believe it…" A pause. "No. I really don't believe it. Shit. Hot guys don't just show up in the middle of the desert and take women for no reason. Fuck!" Panic rises in her tone. "What do you want from us? What do you think you're gonna get from me?"

"First of all, thank you," I hear Santi reply. "I am hot, and I appreciate the recognition. But let me be clear that, personally, I want nothing from you. Don't take that the wrong way; there are plenty of Vultures who'd be happy to fuck you, but I'm just not one of them. I have eyes for one woman and one woman only. And a quick piece of advice? Don't let my girl Maizie hear you say I'm hot, she'll fuck you up. I mean it . No disrespect to you, but she will knock your fucking teeth out."

"What the fuck?"

Amusement tugs at the corner of my mouth as I continue past. We all know Santi's dutifully attached to Maizie, but there's something about him that new girls always seem to be drawn to. I guess he's a handsome guy—black hair, dark eyes, bronze skin—though I think it's more to do with his charm. He flirts without realizing he's flirting, and for obvious reasons, that's a big problem with Maizie. Thankfully, it's a manageable problem, but part of that management involves Santi stopping it before it starts.

I continue down the hall to the last door on the left. It's closed, but I can hear Tucker on the other side.

"I didn't hurt her, right?" He sounds distressed. "I swear, I was really gentle about it—"

What the fuck did he do?

I whip open the door and charge inside. "Tell me what you—"

"It's okay, Tuck. Really. You did great." I spot Zuri sitting on the bed, one knee tucked beneath her, the other leg dangling off the side.

The unconscious girl we picked up from the two wandering lawless is prone on the bed beside her, laid flat on her back. Zuri glances at me before lifting the girl's arm to check her pulse.

"Go wash your hands," she tells Tucker. "Then, don't touch anything. I might need your help again and we don't want to risk infection."

Tucker's eyes anxiously dart between us before he nods, turns, then disappears into the attached bathroom.

I approach Zuri. "Did he do something to the girl?"

Her hair is growing out—the styled ringlet curls of her short Afro hairstyle bounce with the movement as she shakes her head. "No, he didn't do anything other than help me roll her over. He's fine, Oz. He's a good helper."

"Good." I let out a breath. "That's good."

"But you're gonna have to go."

"Why? What did I do?"

"Your vibe stresses him out. I knew the second you came in the house because that's exactly when his anxiety kicked in."

"I don't know what the fuck I did to make him so anxious."

She admonishes me with a look. "You acted like yourself."

"I don't make you anxious."

"This whole situation is making me anxious right now. She's not in good shape, Oz."

"What do you need?"

"A hospital. A lab. An OR. A surgical team—"

"If I could give you all that, you know I would. Tell me something you need that I can actually get."

Zuri gently lays the girl's limp arm on the bed as her dark brown eyes scan her body. "Then I guess the only thing you can give me is time." She sighs before she looks at me. "I don't know if she's going to make it."

"What?" Tucker appears in the room, holding up his freshly washed hands like a surgeon who's just scrubbed in. "Is she gonna die?"

"I don't know, Tuck," Zuri tells him. "I'm going to try my best not to let that happen, but I really need your help. You're going to stay and help me, right?"

His eyes are wide, filled with fear as he stares at the girl. "If she dies, it's not my fault, right?" He pauses, then his head turns, and he looks at me. "I didn't… I'm not the one who hurt her."

I start moving toward him as he stammers through fear.

"She's my responsibility. If she dies, is it my fault?"

"Tucker, listen to me—"

"And then what happens to me? What do you do to me then?"

I place my hands on his shoulders and dip down a bit to level our eyes. I lean in to make sure he has nowhere else to look but at me. "Did you hurt her? Are you the one who did this to her?"

He shakes his head. "No, but I'm responsible—"

I grip the back of his head with one hand to make him stop. "Tucker, yes or no. Are you the one who caused her injuries?"

"No…"

"So, is it your fault if she dies from those injuries?"

He doesn't respond, just blinks at me with glistening eyes that tug at a heartstring.

Yeah, okay, I get it.

Something about me makes him too anxious to think straight.

I lay it out clearly for him, speaking slowly. "If she dies from injuries that someone else caused, that is not your fault. Yes, you are responsible for her in the holding house, and no, she's not okay right now. But that's not because of you ."

I give a quick squeeze to the back of his neck as reassurance, then let go and turn to Zuri. "If time is what you need, then that's what you've got. I'll let Salem know you won't be at Glimmer this week."

She nods. "Okay."

"And I'll have Brady come back to help you out."

"I won't turn down the extra hands, but honestly, Whitney's help would be even better. She has a nursing background, and she seems to have an interest in helping more."

"Fine. Done. She'll be off for the week, too."

"And Tuck's gonna stay to help out, too." She looks at him. "Right, Tuck? I really need your help."

Tucker starts to open his mouth, but I speak first.

"Yeah, Tuck's gonna stay. He's responsible for her in this house."

"You swear you're not gonna kill me if she doesn't make it?"

"Not unless she dies because you do something stupid, like wrap your hands around her throat and choke her to death. Just do your best, Tuck. Don't touch the girl unless Zuri tells you to, and there won't be a problem. Got it?"

"Okay." He nods slowly. "Yeah, okay."

"Where's your kit?" I ask Zuri.

She tilts her head. "Over there, on the dresser. How's the girl at your house?"

"Small cut." I spot Zuri's med kit on the dresser beside the door. "I'll clean it myself."

"Does she need stitches?"

"I don't know." I open the kit and take out some alcohol pads, sterile gauze, and bandages. "I don't think so. I'll bring her over tonight if it looks concerning, otherwise, it can wait until morning."

"Fine, just clean it well. Infections are no joke. We have a few rounds of antibiotics left, but this girl is gonna need some, and I don't know when we'll get more."

I close the lid on the kit and turn to face her. "Use what you need. Let me and Salem worry about getting more."

"They're hard to get."

"I'm aware. Don't worry about it." I wave the supplies at her. "I've got what I need, and I promise I'll be thorough."

She thanks me, and I move quickly to the empty bedroom next door—the room Gemma should be in now. I pull some random clothes from the drawer to bring back to her. I make a brief stop in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and some pre-packaged food items for Gemma.

Then, on the way out, I pull Hayes from questioning the girl on the sofa. I relay instructions so he can ensure Zuri has her helping hands and anything else she may need.

And then I hurry back to my house.

I go inside, lock the door, then pick up Gemma's backpack from the entryway floor. As I slowly ascend the staircase, I wonder again why I'm doing this, why I'm keeping Gemma here in my house when it's not serving anyone. I should right this wrong by taking her back to that room in the holding house. I could still stay with her; I'd still be responsible for her. And Zuri would be right there to check her cut without leaving the other girl's side.

That would be the right thing to do…

That's what I should do.

But as I approach the bedroom door—which Angel still guards obediently—my veins begin to throb with the heavy darkness that drags me in.

The pounding rhythm says she's mine. It tells me to keep her for myself. I know I can't keep her here forever, but a part of me wants to… That desperate, aching part of me needs to.

I search my mind for justifications to keep her, grasp at untenable thoughts, and pull at threads of weak rationale. Eventually, I settle on following the same kind of compulsive stupidity I'd expect my Vultures to weed out through vetting.

I convince myself that continuing this way is fine. After all, it'll only be for a few days of vetting before Gemma's sent to Eden.

I can manage her for a few days.

I can hide the darkness until she's gone.