both her hands on the table, she closed her eyes and tried breathing deeply. But calm would not come. Emotions swelled like a tsunami and came gushing out violently. She grabbed the glass fruit bowl on the table that was full of peaches and threw it against the wall as hard as she could. Shattered glass, splattered peaches, and tears fell. Would her life ever be her own?
Destroying her fruit bowl felt good, but it wasn’t enough violence to assuage the storm within. Not nearly enough. Her body felt flattened where Leith had touched her. She wiped at the tears on her face, vomit rising in the back of her throat. Growling, Forest grabbed a shard of broken glass from the floor and went into the bathroom. The lights stung her already burning eyes. She let loose a scream of rage at her reflection. Crying! Crying was weakness.
Forest pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. She turned to the side and looked at the pattern of her scars Leith had marked her with so many years ago. Biting down on her bottom lip, she took the shard and stabbed it a quarter inch deep into her shoulder. Wincing, she dragged it in a jagged line down to her elbow, then dropped the bloody glass into the sink and splashed water on the self-inflicted wound. She watched it for a few minutes. A searing rushed through her flesh, causing her to yell obscenities at random and kick the vanity.
She splashed water on her arm again and looked at it closely. It was no good. She healed too quickly to build scars on top of scars. The pattern remained unaltered. Sighing, she left the bathroom.
In her living room, she surveyed the mess. She would clean it up tomorrow.
Dawn began to color the sky as Forest dropped on her bed and fell asleep.
Chapter Two
PILES OF files were stacked to eyelevel atop Kindel’s desk. Every miniscule tidbit of information on all Fortress operatives was heaped before him like a haystack. He must find the elusive needle. The clock ticked loudly, incessantly drawing his attention. He had a weeks’ worth of work and only a handful of hours to complete it. They weren’t paying him enough for this crap.
He closed his bloodshot eyes and took a few deep breaths. He couldn’t pull this off. The weight of his thoughts pulled down on his shoulders like an over-stuffed backpack. What would they do to him if he failed? Fortress couldn’t fire him—he was privy to too many government secrets. However, they could demote him. Kindel shuddered.
He focused on the piles in front him. He had been through every single page. He knew every operative personally; he managed three quarters of them. And not one stood out as the obvious choice for the black ops mission.
Kindel pushed his chair out and began pacing the floor of his office, too agitated to care that pacing was very un-elfish. The King had clearly lost his head, and the high council stood behind him, cheering on this folderol. They had formed a plan and dropped it right in his lap. He would do all the work, and the council would take all the credit. Like always.
Kindel ground his teeth. He needed an operative who specialized in combat and stealth. He had plenty of those. Not a spy. Kindel hated spies. He needed someone he could trust, someone loyal to him . But more than anything, he needed someone versatile and also, unfortunately, expendable. He needed…He needed…
His phone vibrated in his pocket. A text from Forest. He read it, half-smirking, half-scowling. Why did she always call him The Suit?
Suit, leaving work two hours early. Dock my pay if you want. Oh wait, forgot I’m salaried.
–blows raspberry— Forest
Forest ! It hit him like a sucker punch from an ogre. He needed Forest. Forest was the solution to his problem. An imperfect, knotty solution, but selecting her made sense.
He ought to reprimand her for her insolence and work habits, but Earth was low on his list of priorities. Personally, he didn’t really care if the whole human
Destroying her fruit bowl felt good, but it wasn’t enough violence to assuage the storm within. Not nearly enough. Her body felt flattened where Leith had touched her. She wiped at the tears on her face, vomit rising in the back of her throat. Growling, Forest grabbed a shard of broken glass from the floor and went into the bathroom. The lights stung her already burning eyes. She let loose a scream of rage at her reflection. Crying! Crying was weakness.
Forest pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. She turned to the side and looked at the pattern of her scars Leith had marked her with so many years ago. Biting down on her bottom lip, she took the shard and stabbed it a quarter inch deep into her shoulder. Wincing, she dragged it in a jagged line down to her elbow, then dropped the bloody glass into the sink and splashed water on the self-inflicted wound. She watched it for a few minutes. A searing rushed through her flesh, causing her to yell obscenities at random and kick the vanity.
She splashed water on her arm again and looked at it closely. It was no good. She healed too quickly to build scars on top of scars. The pattern remained unaltered. Sighing, she left the bathroom.
In her living room, she surveyed the mess. She would clean it up tomorrow.
Dawn began to color the sky as Forest dropped on her bed and fell asleep.
Chapter Two
PILES OF files were stacked to eyelevel atop Kindel’s desk. Every miniscule tidbit of information on all Fortress operatives was heaped before him like a haystack. He must find the elusive needle. The clock ticked loudly, incessantly drawing his attention. He had a weeks’ worth of work and only a handful of hours to complete it. They weren’t paying him enough for this crap.
He closed his bloodshot eyes and took a few deep breaths. He couldn’t pull this off. The weight of his thoughts pulled down on his shoulders like an over-stuffed backpack. What would they do to him if he failed? Fortress couldn’t fire him—he was privy to too many government secrets. However, they could demote him. Kindel shuddered.
He focused on the piles in front him. He had been through every single page. He knew every operative personally; he managed three quarters of them. And not one stood out as the obvious choice for the black ops mission.
Kindel pushed his chair out and began pacing the floor of his office, too agitated to care that pacing was very un-elfish. The King had clearly lost his head, and the high council stood behind him, cheering on this folderol. They had formed a plan and dropped it right in his lap. He would do all the work, and the council would take all the credit. Like always.
Kindel ground his teeth. He needed an operative who specialized in combat and stealth. He had plenty of those. Not a spy. Kindel hated spies. He needed someone he could trust, someone loyal to him . But more than anything, he needed someone versatile and also, unfortunately, expendable. He needed…He needed…
His phone vibrated in his pocket. A text from Forest. He read it, half-smirking, half-scowling. Why did she always call him The Suit?
Suit, leaving work two hours early. Dock my pay if you want. Oh wait, forgot I’m salaried.
–blows raspberry— Forest
Forest ! It hit him like a sucker punch from an ogre. He needed Forest. Forest was the solution to his problem. An imperfect, knotty solution, but selecting her made sense.
He ought to reprimand her for her insolence and work habits, but Earth was low on his list of priorities. Personally, he didn’t really care if the whole human
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