Beyond Control (22 page)

Even Lex's eyes were burning from the dust, and she was used to far less immaculate surroundings than Noelle. "You like helping, or digging around in this junk?"

"It's not all junk." Wiggling between a desk and a dresser, Noelle laid her hand on an intricately carved headboard, the one piece in the immediate area that Lex would have picked out as extremely valuable--under the dirt. "They're so scornful of anything pre-Flare in Eden, but some of this stuff is just breathtaking. It's from a time when things didn't have to be purely functional. They could be art, too."

"Plenty of artisans left in the sectors," Lex observed. "If there's something you want, take it. If you can't find it, Dallas will get it."

Noelle stroked the high post on the headboard, her gaze wistful. "But isn't it a little sad for so many beautiful things to be tossed on top of one another in here? Why does Dallas keep them?"

Because his mother would have kicked his ass for being wasteful, for not clinging to every single resource that came his way--just in case. "Because he might need them someday. If we can't use it ourselves, maybe we can barter with someone who wants it. All this dusty shit is currency."

Nodding thoughtfully, Noelle turned to survey the room. But her gaze was unfocused, and her next words were a whisper. "I'm almost afraid to ask how you really are. You seem happy...but you went back to Two. Was it hard?"

Lex tensed, afraid of the answer that would come if she didn't force herself to choose her words carefully. "It sucked, and I never want to do it again. But I'll have to. It's part of the deal."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Honestly, she'd rather chew glass. But this was
Noelle
, who cared so much. "I saw my sister. She's happy--I think. I don't know."

Noelle finally turned to look at her, and she saw a hint of understanding there. "It's hard to imagine people you care about being happy in a place that was killing your soul."

"Shit, it wouldn't even be a thing, except..." Lex ran her finger around the fluted edge of a delicate, dusty vase. "How can you tell what's real in a place like that?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe nothing is. But that's what the people in Eden say about the sectors."

"Yeah."

Noelle smiled faintly. "Everyone in Two can't be horrible, can they?"

Lex could still see the way Avery's patron had stroked her hair, the protective way he'd tried to edge between her and the possibility of pain. "No. And there are shitty people here in Four. The real question is whether it's the assholes who are in charge, right?"

Noelle pressed herself against Lex's back and wrapped both arms around her waist in a firm hug. "There's an asshole in charge here, but since the woman sleeping with him has been daydreaming about him all morning, I've decided to forgive him."

Lex's cheeks heated in a fierce blush. "Fuck you."

"Right here, in all the dust?" Noelle's chuckle tickled Lex's neck. "No, thank you. Maybe later, so the boys can watch and be jealous."

Lex turned to face her. "Dallas is...Dallas. Even when he's being insufferable, he's still one of the best people I've ever met. You'd have to be an idiot not to love him at least a little."

"I could love him a little," Noelle agreed. "But I love you more, so I reserve the right to be pissed off at him whenever he upsets you." She made a face. "And to get in screaming fights with Jasper about it, too."

The thought of her getting defensive on Lex's behalf was as adorable as it was unnecessary. "Don't--for Jasper's sake. He'd never get any peace. That's just me and Dallas. Damn near how we've always been."

"So he says," she murmured as her cheeks turned pink. "And don't underestimate him. Jasper can get his own peace when he wants it."

So that's how it was. "Well, then. Feel free to fight with him. Just be sure and invite us next time."

Pink brightened damn near to scarlet as Noelle laughed. "Stop teasing. And stop giving me ideas, or maybe I'll reconsider all the dust."

"No, you won't, because we're on a mission." Lex dragged a length of canvas off a square shape. "She'll need a nightstand. And someplace to keep her clothes."

"And a desk." Noelle pivoted back toward the headboard they'd unearthed. "Maybe a couch and a couple of chairs. And a nice bed. Or is that too fancy? Will she think we're trying to force her to owe us a favor?"

"Probably not." As far as Six was concerned, they could force her to do anything they wanted, anytime--and favors likely weren't high on the list of what she expected them to demand. "But it could embarrass her."

"Okay. Nice quality, but understated." She pointed to a solid mahogany dresser built in plain, clean lines. "Stuff like that, maybe?"

"Perfect."

Noelle grinned and started moving dusty cushions off the piece. "So here's the real question. I bet you and I could move all the furniture on our own...but I do so love watching Jasper lift heavy things. Is that wrong?"

You've created a monster.
Dallas's voice, amused and a little hungry, but Lex could hear it like he was standing right beside her.

Noelle had taken to life in Sector Four fast, and it would break her heart to realize the truth about Six. The girl had a hard road ahead of her, assuming she ever learned to trust any of them. "Better idea. We'll have Jas
and
Bren do the work, and we'll drag Six along to watch with us."

Maybe she
had
created a monster, because Noelle arched both brows. "No Dallas?"

As if Lex needed the show--or the reminder of what he did to her concentration and self-control. She bumped Noelle's hip with her own. "You're bad. If you want to hear filthy details, all you have to do is ask."

"I always want to hear the filthy details. How else am I supposed to get ideas?"

"You could take him for a ride yourself." Lex mimicked her raised brows and innocent look. "Dallas and Jasper have been known to tag team on occasion."

"Tag team..." Her eyes went even wider. "You mean like Mad and Ace at that party the night before the blackout? Like, both at the same time?"

"Something like that." Judging by her expression, she was trying to imagine it--hard.

After a long moment of consideration that prompted another adorable blush, Noelle wet her lips. Her imagination had expanded, but Lex could still tell when she was struggling to force her vocabulary to keep up. "Maybe they should both fuck
you
first so I can watch and decide if it's too much for me." She grinned suddenly. "Or just watch."

"Yeah, good luck sneaking that one past Dallas," Lex muttered, then explained, "He's in possessive-caveman mode at the moment."

Noelle hesitated. "Is that bad? I can't tell if you think that's bad."

Because she hadn't decided herself yet. "Here's the thing about men, honey. Sometimes, they're at their most possessive when they think you might walk. But let 'em settle down a while, they loosen that grip, and everyone's happy. Does that make sense?"

"Maybe. I think Jasper would let another guy touch me, but I don't think that makes him less possessive. It's not about sharing. It's just about getting me off. He'll use whips, cuffs, toys...Ace." Her sudden smile was lazily content and faraway. "He'll do anything if he thinks I want it."

Now who was daydreaming? "Yeah, okay. Eyes on the prize, sunshine. You may love the musty smell of all this dirty old shit, but I'm starting to itch."

"You can go," Noelle said quickly, waving her hand toward the dresser. "I can find stuff that matches that and round up Bren and Jas, now that I know what I'm looking for."

"I'd rather help." It would keep her mind off fucking Dallas O'Kane.

Literally.

It wasn't until they were standing across from each other, seconds from throwing their first punches, that Six realized she'd missed Bren.

She'd expected to miss things
about
him. The security he represented, for starters, both physical and mental. Bren had never been gentle with her, not from that first moment, when he'd wrestled her into submission and shoved a gag between her teeth at Dallas's orders. But he hadn't been rough, either, just been blandly impersonal and efficient. The honesty in that detached competence had soothed her in a way none of Dallas's soft-spoken promises of safety ever could.

She'd expected to miss the way men averted their eyes when she tagged along behind Bren. She'd expected to miss knowing that he'd be a silent wall between her and the rest of the gang, with their curious eyes and their friendly, puppy-dog eagerness. She'd even expected to miss these sessions, the chance to burn through her lingering rage and learn at the same time.

She hadn't expected this weird, tight feeling in her chest, and how much worse it got when he smiled.

Hell, she'd missed him. A
lot
.

One of those smiles curved his lips now. "You're pulling your punches. Afraid you're going to mess up my pretty face?"

He didn't have a pretty face, not like some of the men. Mad and Ace and even Dallas, when he wasn't scowling. Bren's face was rough, all flat, hard lines and crooked angles, like a dozen bar fights had already tried to mess it up but had only made it more appealing.

Appealing. Fuck, she was obsessing over his crooked nose like some soft city idiot. Six tried to summon her usual glower, but it felt wrong, because the corners of her mouth kept fighting to pull up. "Someone beat me to it."

"Pun intended?" He lunged then, grabbing her hand and spinning in an attempt to twist her arm up behind her back. Pivoting with him, she attempted to break his grip by rotating her wrist, but he knew how to press close and kill the leverage she needed. So she kept going, twirling in a dizzy circle as she shifted her balance and freed up one heel to drive toward his ankle.

He caught her leg with his other arm, hooking his elbow under her knee and pulling it high. Pulling her off balance.

Christ, he was
fast
. Squirming only toppled her back against his chest, and her only play there was the back of her head against his nose.

So she took it.

"Fuck." He released her and stumbled back, his hiss of pain turning into a laugh. "That hurt, sweetheart."

"You should have stopped me," she chided, uncomfortable with the flutter of worry in her stomach. She turned to examine his face, but he was smiling through the thin trickle of blood trailing from one nostril.

"I deserved it," he said simply.

"Yeah, a little." Her skin still prickled with awareness, the heightened sense of focus that always came with a fight. She could feel his phantom warmth at her back, the memory of his chest, pressed tight against her, and she hated how much she missed
that
. Clenching her fingers, she buried confusion under action and lunged at him.

Not a graceful attack, and he defended easily, spilling her to the mat beneath him. "You have to take time to think," he whispered, his lips against her ear.

The prickling changed to tingles, and she rasped in a hoarse breath. She didn't like being under him--not when it meant she'd lost--but she didn't hate it as much as she should have. The stinging of her pride was balanced by a deeper satisfaction at his skill.

She'd learn from Bren. She'd get better. And, in the meantime, nothing would touch her because he was magnificently dangerous.

She had to swallow twice to make her voice sound natural. "Speed's the only advantage I have. I need to learn to think faster."

"Couldn't hurt." He shifted his weight and rose on his knees. "But you're being hard on yourself. Fighting me isn't really fair."

"That's why I want to do it." She missed more than some vague impression of warmth this time. She missed the solid weight of him, the feeling of being surrounded on all sides. "I need to learn."

"And I'll teach you. You know that, right?"

She wet her lips, unsure what he was asking. There was suddenly no safe place to rest her gaze, not with him still straddling her hips and her own disobedient body beginning to take a keen interest in his. "You
are
teaching me. It's helping."

He climbed to his feet. "It's not just fighting. It's understanding when you have to, and when you don't."

"I guess. You have weird rules here. Do any of the other women fight at all?"

He brushed that aside with a shake of his head. "I mean
who
you might have to fight. You're treating all this like an immediate mission goal. Like you're in danger here." A quick nod indicated the cavernous warehouse around them. "Here on the compound."

There was no safe answer to that. The people here were his friends, his brothers. For all the wary respect in their eyes when they watched him, there was also affection. That was as foreign to her as the idea of women having each other's backs because of some crazy devotion to the idea of sisterhood. So she shrugged and stared at his boots. "I guess."

He watched her intently. "Those lessons are important to learn, too."

"I can't--" She clenched her hands until her ragged nails bit into her palms. "He told me it was safe to stop fighting."

"Trent." There was no doubt in Bren's voice, no question.

At least she wouldn't have to say his name. "He didn't lie, not really. It was safe to stop fighting. He just never bothered to tell me how much worse it would be when he got bored of keeping me safe."

Bren closed both hands around hers and tugged her to her feet. "Tomorrow," he whispered. "Same time. We'll fight harder."

No words urging her to trust, or chiding her for not being able to. Just an offer, the only one that could possibly help. Her heart lurched into her throat, and she spent an endless forever standing there, trembling with the urge to lean in. It wouldn't be hard. Just one step. Only one.

If she did, she could steal a little more of that warmth. Maybe he'd wrap his arms around her. She'd seen him hug others, the back-slapping hugs between the men, the softer, lingering hugs for the women. His arms were thick with hard muscles and solid flesh. He'd had them around her enough times in practice, but never like this. Just two people, standing oh so close, trading warmth and comfort and the air between them.