They stopped at the top of the stairs that led to the basement, where the dark rooms dwelled. Even during the daylight hours, the hallway was pitch black, secluded. Except today, of all days, there was no noise. The tunnel was eerie and ominous, striking a ghostly fear down Ava's spine.
Mika tightened the hand-woven blanket around them, easing away the haunting memories of the Reaper. Somewhere between the bar and the basement, he pulled the blanket further over their shoulders. It brought them closer. Yesterday, Ava would've said too close, but now she leaned in and accepted this secure warmth he brought.
What was Mika thinking? Did he have the same disgusted feelings as Marc every time they came to this place? Would he let Ava go if he knew she used to be a participant? Would he regret kissing her if he knew she kissed many before him?
Mika was becoming her new safety net, and Ava wasn't sure if she could push him away this time or if she wanted to. This wasn't good. It'll only hurt worse in the end.
Ava stepped first down the stairs as Mika held onto the railing. They slowly descended into the darkness. His heavy breaths echoed the entire way. Her heartbeat quickened, becoming more aware of him and his body as her back gradually warmed the closer he walked. This was taking forever.
The moment they reached the bottom Ava smacked the button multiple times just to get through the door quicker than possible. When she stepped through, stark light blinded her. The ceiling lights were on, bleach sprayed down the walls. Toxic.
Mika coughed into his fist. "What is that smell? It's burning my throat."
"They're cleaning the rooms." Ava took his hand. "Just keep your mouth covered with the blanket. I'll lead the way."
They passed through the millions of red ribbons hanging off the ceiling. Fake jewels gleamed, reflecting a rainbow of droplets off every inch of the bare room. The cushions were gone and so were the hookahs. A hollow feeling echoed with their every step as the toxic chemicals collided with the scent of iron.
The staff huddled together near a section in the back, washing blood off the walls. Their fading gray uniforms meshed together, nearly making them camouflage against the stained concrete. Red drops sprinkled their face masks as rusted water drained beneath their boots and into the middle section of floor.
Ava hurried down the hallway. Mika didn't utter a word. She slammed the door open to Harry's room. When she expected him to be toking it up on the couch, he was doing quite the opposite. Harry ran around the room, arm full of clothes and tossed them on the couch. He picked up random electronics out of the hoard and tossed them into a moving box sitting between the desk and coffee table.
When Mika coughed, it caught Harry's attention. He dropped the cords. "What the hell are you guys doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Command Center?"
"What are you talking about?" Ava asked.
Harry motioned at the monitor hanging on the wall. They walked further in, letting the door latch behind, and watched as propaganda spread throughout the universe. Zephyrus' ship flashed on the screen, showing its broken engines, chunks of metal and debris floating in space, and the busted side where the Mars ship rammed into him.
But there was no red ship in sight.
When the ship pulled into Earth's gravity, the camera caught the impact from high above as it hit the planet and shifted the sand into a giant crater. Headlines swirled across the screen, blaming Earth for attacking during peace negotiations, while spreading fear to other planets about the UFE's brutality.
The media claimed Earth was holding Gio hostage. They claimed this was Primordial's last attempt at making peace. They claimed this was the end.
We're running out of time. Ava swiftly took out the disc from Mika's jacket and shoved it in front of Harry's eyes. This time he dropped the electronics. They hit the surface, hard, cracking on the tile, but he didn't care. His eyes fixated on the disc and gently took it from her fingers as if it would break any second.
"Where did you get this? Do you know how rare this is?" he asked in awe.
"From Zephyrus'," she stated. The name woke him up. Fear coiled on his face. He glanced at the monitor and took in their odd clothes. "I need you to hack into it. The disc requires a special computer—"
"A PJF3167. Got it."
Harry hurried over and rummaged through the pile of gadgets by the window. A handheld PC emerged from the collection. He shoved everything off his desk and dropped into the swivel chair. The dual monitors turned on.
His fingers drummed across the glass surface, typing quickly through the multiple screens popping up. "We're on a time crunch. I need this done in twenty minutes," Ava said.
Harry scoffed and snapped a pair of large headphones over his ears. "I'll have it cracked open in fifteen."
It wasn't long before heavy metal instantly drowned his ears, mentally leaving Ava and Mika alone. Mika strolled towards the beat up couch. Her eyes trailed his every move, taking note when he made sure his shirt was tucked in nice and tight before he plopped down at the far end—away from the pile of clothes.
He covered his lap with the blanket and motioned at Ava for the other pouch. She tossed them over. All three pouches slipped between his fingers and landed with a thud on his lap. He was either still weak or clumsy at this point. The sand didn't help.
Ava went into the bathroom suite. Dirty clothes were piled by the hamper. Chunks of dirt and muddy boot prints streaked the black tile. She pushed aside the bud-ridden ash tray and turned the sink on. Finally, clean water.
The soap washed away the sand and grime. Its violet scent calmed her, cut into the heavy stench of cooked grass. This room was one giant smoke stack. It was messing with her sixth sense and made her head fuzzy.
God, she looked awful: matted hair, scorched sleeves, tattered holes and tears. Ava was lucky the jacket survived this long—that her dress was intact. She needed to call Gio, go over what happened and their next plan of attack. But she didn't want to. She was afraid. He had to know she lost control again.
In the mirror, Ava watched Mika drop his head against the top of the couch. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and drank from the energy pouch without a care. The tube rested on his lips, reminding her of their desert kiss. She scrubbed her face until the memory went away, but it didn't.
After drying her face on Harry's towel, Ava took the last clean washcloth out of the closet and drench it in lukewarm water. It dripped with each step towards Mika, leaving a trail as it changed from black to a mirage of abstract colors.
She stopped directly in front of him and let the wash cloth drip all over his clothes, staining them darker. "Here. Wash your face off."
Mika cracked an eye open. A teasing smile spread on his pink petaled lips. "You do it. I'm too tired."
He clearly was trying to be funny, but she could see past his facade. He'd already sucked down three energy pouches. And there was a part of her that felt bad for dragging him into this mess. A part that also wanted to be close to him.
Ava carefully sat between him and the armrest and rubbed the washcloth over his cheek. His eyes flew open. "I was joking."
"I know you were," she said, dragging the cloth across his forehead. The skin shined clean and his body heat was as sweltering as a healthy Ama should be. He was getting better.
Relief overcame her shoulders. They drooped as she cleaned the other side of his face. Mika stopped drinking his pouch to watch. It was daunting, having his gaze this close. Tension rose and Ava had the urge to break it.
"I feel like a servant." She snorted. "First, I helped you get dressed. Now, I'm bathing you."
"The servants don't dress or bathe me back at home. I manage those daily necessities on my own." He proudly smiled before she wiped it off his mouth.
Ava cocked an eyebrow and cleaned his nose. "That's an odd thing to be proud of."
Mika let out a long sigh. "You don't know how hard it is to get dressed every day. The material is as thin as a flower petal. I'm afraid it'll rip." He grabbed at his collar and yanked it down. "This shirt is thicker than our clothes. And don't get me started on those knots."
Ava triggered him and Mika triggered something in her. Seeing more of his bare skin just brought forth so many scandalous images, and the more he tugged on his shirt's collar, the more skin was exposed. Before she knew it, Ava touched that skin with the washcloth.
He stiffened and she froze. Her hand rested on the beginnings of his chest as he took a steady breath—in and out. He poisoned her with overwhelming lemons and the faint scent of honeysuckles. Toxic in its own way.
Ava moved the washcloth up his neck and beneath his chin. When she brushed her fingers through his hair, he squeezed the pouch. Juice spilled onto the blanket.
"Lean forward so I can get the back of your neck," she said.
Mika hesitated, and when he leaned forward, she understood why. The back of his shirt was riddled with holes. There were so many she could easily see every random freckle on his back, painting an easy picture of Mika without a shirt on.
She shook the thoughts away. He got these from the pod. Luckily, his skin looked okay. She had the sudden urge to touch it but held herself back. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It's only a shirt."
"Well, your back is completely exposed like this. You need a new one." She leaned over him and grabbed one of Harry's shirts off the pile. He won't miss one.
Mika took it from her hand and held it in his lap. Ava said, "Aren't you self-conscious about others seeing you naked?"
"That was about my eyes. I could care less if you see me naked," he said, quickly adding, "Not that I don't want you to see me naked." And like the grave he dug, he buried his face into his hands and groaned. "Forget what I said."
Mika blushed a red so deep, it was easy to spot all the way down his neck and to the tip of his ears. He was acting all cute and honestly it surprised Ava. If she didn't just hear the words spewing from his mouth, she'd be teasing him in return.
Then why did he freak out in the closet? Why tuck in his shirt? Could he be worried about his looks like Darious? No, he had to be hiding something. Everyone had a secret, and the longer Ava was around Mika, the more she wanted to know.
Mika finally snapped out of his embarrassment and sucked on his pouch again. She took it from him, put the tube in her mouth and drank the pouch dry. He watched with wide eyes. It tasted like tropical fruit and of Mika's lips.
Energy flowed through her veins and into her heart. It pumped faster, quenching this dying need she'd been lacking since Zephyrus' stabbed her in the neck.
When it was clear Ava had no intention of returning the pouch, he opened a new one, still watching her. "How did you get out off that island, again?" she asked.
He took a long drink. "I told you already. I was using koto to view inside."
"Then how long were you watching me?" Leaning close, Ava whispered in his ear, "Was it long enough to see me naked?"
Mika choked on the juice. He rubbed a sleeve over his chin. "It wasn't intentional," he quickly said. "I mean, who in their right mind takes a shower on an enemy ship?"
Someone who's trying to seduce the devil.
Ava lodged against the couch, making sure she was closer than before, and let her arm rest next to his. "It doesn't matter. I could care less that you saw me naked," she teased and took a sip of her pouch. "But I'm surprised you haven't tried to kiss me again."
Mika searched her eyes, probably wondering if this was another trick. She didn't blame him. After everything they've been through, she'd be suspicious, too.
He sheepishly smiled. "I'm worried you'll pull a knife out on me this time."
She set the trap, and he took the bait. A mischievous smirk curled on her cheek. "Well, lucky you. I dropped my last knife back on the ship."
Mika tossed the empty pouch on the tile floor. When she thought he was going to kiss her, he took her left hand and brought it to his lips. Each kiss was gentle and soft. He treated her hand like it was fragile and not a weapon of war. Her breath stilled when he kissed her fingertips, heart fluttered when he kissed her palm.
Ava was at a total loss for words and felt her mind slip away from the goal—away from this room and all the consequences that awaited them. With every kiss he left, it fed this new flower blooming inside her. And it scared her—terrified her more than death itself. Yet, she wanted more.
When he met her gaze, a flash of fear shocked her body to the core. His eyes were dark and penetrating. They drew her in. They hypnotized her. And as he kissed the soft flesh of her wrist, they whispered sweet lullabies.
Screw it. Screw the world and the damn secrets.
Ava climbed over Mika's lap and pressed her lips against his.
Her fingers tangled into his wavy hair, she pushed him further into the couch. His hair was as soft as bird feathers, yet easy to grip on to. When she yanked down, he moaned in her mouth. He grabbed her waist and brought her closer.
Their bodies pressed together. Heat radiated off him. She got lost in his kisses, the way he bit her lower lip and teased her tongue. He kissed her jaw, nipped her skin all the way down her neck. She clung to his back, afraid he'd pull away.
The aroma of lemons grew stronger, clouding her senses completely. Ava lost all her wits as Mika dragged fingers down her body, dragged out a need of his own. His lips teased the edge of her neck, the cresp between life and death. Ava stifled a moan.
This guy was too good at kissing.
And just like that Ava snapped back to reality.
An Ama prince shouldn't be this experienced. A kiss was pure instinct, but knowing where and how to touch took practice. And he had tons of practice.
Everywhere his hands touched created this overwhelming sensation, an addicting pleasure Ava never experienced before, and Mika knew it. He held her tighter, his heart pounded on her chest.
His fingers tangled in her hair as if he were desperate for more. And she gave him more. As she squeezed his taunt shoulders, she let him run a hand up her bare thigh and under her dress. She let him believe he had her trapped.
Their lips deepened as his muscles flexed beneath her fingers, enticing her to slide them down his front without worry. She eased under his tucked in shirt. His skin was hot and smooth, full of unsuspecting ridges. Very tempting. She almost got sidetracked again.
But when Ava opened her eyes, she discovered his deadly secret and everything just fell apart. Son of a bitch.
He clamped down her wrists, but he was too late. She saw the curse mark. No way she'd forget it. It was identical to the one on the back of her neck. Except Mika's curse had more characters draining an enormous amount of energy and was a tad sloppy like someone drew it in a rush. He was such a hypocrite.
"Why the hell do you have this?" Ava asked between heavy breathes, but the anger only boiled stronger.
Mika didn't respond. He wouldn't even look her in the eyes.
She grabbed his collar and tried shaking the answers out of him. "Tell me why you have this mark on your body. Why are you draining your energy!"
Tears accumulated in the corners of her eyes and she had no energy left to hold them back. They dropped on his shirt, on her hands, and just created more of a mess. Her body trembled out of anger and disappointment.
I'm so tired. I'm tired of all these secrets and lies. I'm tired of feeling helpless and of being betrayed. I'm just tired of this life.
He brushed the tears off her cheek. "Are you sure you want to know the truth?"
"I do, Mikaela," Ava snapped. "That's all I ever wanted!"
When he lifted his head, his eyes were haunting. They grew darker, hollow and void. They appeared wise beyond his years as if they'd seen too much of the world and there was nothing that would hold him back. Dangerous. Cold. Heartless.
Mika held out his left hand. Sparks of light appeared in his palm, danced across his fingertips. In an instant, Ava's weapon appeared in his grip.
She could only stare. Stare and stare as she tried to place all the puzzle pieces together in a flash. That shouldn't be possible. He shouldn't be able to call her Bō. Ava only gave him the ability to call his own weapon and nothing else.
That is my weapon, not his weapon.
That is my weapon.
.
My weapon.
.
.
No, it wasn't.
It wasn't Ava's weapon at all.
This can't be happening.
"Oh, but it is," the Reaper whispered in her ear. "Accept it. Mika is the god of death."