Authentic Imposter by Hazel Jonas
Chapter 3
Lilly
Silver, or Silver’s enemies, is difficult. Outside it’s damn near freezing and I get the feeling the initial confrontation will happen outdoors. Possibly hours after we arrive in the area. Who knows how long it will take us to locate the phone in the maze of buildings and shops.
I settle for a sweater dress over leggings, a pastel-pink winter puff coat, boots, and a thick scarf I can use to cover my face if need be. I grab my purple hat and gloves, wishing I had less flashy outerwear. It’ll have to do. My makeup is on par with what I wore to Caite’s engagement party. More than what I wear on a day-to-day basis and something that I hope will tug at Silver’s heart strings.
If he even has strings to tug on. Ugh.
I drive us, asking Caite to keep an eye on the phone’s movements. Parking on the street, I hand over the car key to her.
“Alright, here’s the partial plan,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. Which is practically zero. “You stay in the car and text me updates. I’ll let you know what I see and if I need to move the car. Or if I find Silver and go home with him.”
“Excellent plan,” Caite smirks for a second. It falls. “And if shit goes south…”
“You won’t know. I’ll check in every hour, or at least try to. If you don’t hear from me every two hours,” I groan and dip my chin. “call Glen for help.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish,” I mumble.
“Fuck that. Glen will kill us. Let’s not get to that point, alright?”
“I’ll try. If it’s not Silver, today will be a dud. Nothing but people watching. If it is Silver and he sees through our plan… Glen is my only rescue hope.”
Caite lets out a slow, shaky breath. She reruns the search and scrolls through the results.
“It’s moved closer. One block down. Phone’s still on,” she says, voice as shaky as her breath.
Peering around us, I spot a coffee shop on the corner diagonal from us. I can’t see much of it, just the large front windows and faded open flag drifting in the gentle breeze.
“There.” I point at the shop, not taking my eyes off of it.
“Well, go get him, tiger,” Caite says. “Or wait for someone to—”
The door swings inwards. Out steps a tall man dressed in a black wool pea coat, jeans, leather gloves and a gray knit scarf around his neck. Head and ears exposed to the cold. Unruly brown hair framing his skeletal face. Plush, large, too perfect lips sipping from a to-go cup.
It’s him. He’s fucking alive.
Caite leans her seat back abruptly, rattling my focus away. I glare at her as she hides herself in the car.
“What are you looking at me for?! Go get that piece of shit and suck his dick!” she hisses, eye gleaming with malice.
“Both of them or just one?” I grunt.
“Excuse me?” Caite gawks, her eyes painfully wide.
I smirk at her. Turning back, I see Silver’s taking his sweet-ass time walking down the street. He hasn’t passed our car yet.
“Hold your horses, Caite, I’ll jump out after he’s past us. I don’t want him to turn on his heels and run for the hills.”
She groans.
Time passes in slow motion. In reality, it takes no more than three minutes for Silver to be far enough down the street for me to jump up and chase after him. It feels like three fucking hours.
The car door feels like it weighs two hundred pounds. The brisk, cold wind doesn’t faze me, the heat of anxiety too high in my body. Closing the door as quietly as possible, I check the street for oncoming traffic and sprint away. Silver rounds the corner and disappears. I walk as quickly as I can, slipping on the rock salt and stray gravel along the concrete.
Heart thundering in my ears and punching into my throat with each beat, I can’t breathe. As I turn the corner myself, my vision tunnels, locking on Silver. My brain switches into some sort of autopilot, making me skip down the street and quickly close the distance between us. I’m less than five feet behind him, weaving around other people on the sidewalk. He hasn’t noticed me.
An opportunity presents itself. A small alleyway no wider than twelve feet is coming up on our right. No time to think, only time to act. I sprint up along his right side, digging my fingers into the collar of his coat and yanking it with all my might towards the alley. Silver’s eyes go wide, a snarl contorts his features as he stumbles. But not as far as I hoped. I let go of his collar before he can turn on me. Backing down the alley, keeping my face towards him, I’m dumbstruck. What expression should I force?
I settle for doe eyes and quivering lips, rapidly blinking at Silver while the anger drains away from his face, taking the what little color his skin has along with it. His head darts from side to side. A few passersby give us puzzled or annoyed looks, but no one stops. His jaw slacks, coffee slipping from his hand. It hits the ground, breaking the lid free and releasing a puff of steam. Silver steps back, brown eyes glassy, and his body takes on a crumpled posture.
I can’t let him get away. Not again.
One long step forward, with arms extended, and I grab his collar with both hands this time. Tugging us together, he trips into me. Our mouths crash together. Silver’s frozen against me, arms at his sides and torso drooped. I close my eyes and kiss him again, forcing my anger to become passion. Fingers threading in his hair, I lick the seam of his lips.
Even though he’s as stiff and unreactive as a board, he feels amazing against me. Long limbs and hard muscle with softness in all the right places. I wish it weren’t so cold. Touching his skin and hair would flood my body with lust, sending tingles radiating over me. I bottled away how good he makes me feel. My anxiety is dead and gone, replaced with a sense of what I best describe as safety.
Hands push at my waist, but they’re oddly gentle. Palms on my stomach, fingers not wrapped around me, it’s more of a touch than a shove.
“No,” he whispers against my mouth. “Don’t—”
I cut him off with my tongue, stroking against his own. Turning our kisses downright sloppy. Silver finally kisses me back. But then the hands on my waist become forceful. A jolting shove succeeds in separating our mouths, putting a few inches of distance between us and loosening my grip on his head. I drift my hands down to hold his neck.
Two brown eyes rimmed with florescent orange bore into mine. His picture-perfect brows are knitted together with what I think is worry.
“No,” he whispers again, eyes shifting about.
I smile softly. “Are you safe?”
My own question shocks me. It came from the depths of my soul. A part of me is relieved to find him alive and right now that part of me is overpowering my rational side.
Silver blinks rapidly, his mouth opening and closing several times. His hands on my waist shift as he straightens his back.
I take one hand back and pull my glove off with my teeth, shoving it in my pocket before brushing my fingers down the side of his face.
“Silver?” I ask as my hand moves back to his overheated neck. “Are you safe?”
God, why do I care? A hollowness sinks into my ribs. I ignore it. For all I know, I’m talking to the killer. And if he killed the Oddfather, that means he killed my husband, too. Reality sinks in. I’ve lived a sheltered, tortured life because of him. He swooped in out of nowhere, took me off of my feet, and protected me from the Syndicate.
Holy shit.
I fucked my husband’s murderer and I’m on the cusp of doing it again.
“Yes.” Silver shuffles an inch closer, his lower lip trembling. “I’m safe. Are you, Caoineag?”
Hearing my nickname dents my confidence armor. That name sounds like sex coming off his tongue. The way his lips contort as he enunciates sends shivers of yearning to my clit. I try to pull my rage back up to the surface and only manage to grab onto a few threads. I should let the anger drown or he’ll see it in my aura. But hate sex instead of romantic, passionate sex might be just as well.
“I am now.”
A tear slips down, dropping off of his sharp cheek bone into his hollow cheek. His jaw moves as he swallows. “No.”
I tilt my head. “No?”
“How did you… Why are you…” he stutters.
“Cause you’re old and technologically inept,” I tease. “I can see if someone’s read my texts or not.”
Silver lets out a harsh exhale through his nose. He mumbles. “I’m thirty-five.”
Ah, that’s what bothered him. Adorable.
“Compared to me, that’s old.”
His nose wrinkles. It sends a tingle of pride over my chest. Once again, my anger is dulled to a frustrating low point. And some of that anger is directed at me for messing with Silver’s heart. Even though he messed with mine. Fuck feeling guilty. All is fair in love and war, right?
Using my leverage around his neck, I pull my chest to his. Our noses are only an inch a part. Silver’s breath hitches. He doesn’t move to push me away.
“We need to talk.” I let my lips ghost over his as I speak. “But first, I need you.”
I swear the ring around his contacts flashes with Barbie pink for two or three blinks. Silver’s eyes narrow to a squint, head tilting back and lips flattening.
“I’m not seeing need, Caoineag,” he says, lips tight as he speaks. They don’t move as much as they twitch.
“No? Do you see anxiety from confrontation? Rage from being deceived? Fear of rejection? Or pain from the cold?”
Silver takes one hand off my waist and uses it to adjust his scarf to cover my ungloved hand. His eyes stay narrowed, not leaving my face. The act of chivalry surprises me. It makes me want to kiss him again.
“I saw you typing a reply this morning. What were you going to tell me?” I whisper.
“You did the wrong thing.”
Whatever expression’s on my face falls off. The cold air around us feels chillier. The heat of his neck is gone even though my hand hasn’t moved.
“Glen’s the boss. You do as he says and he’ll protect you,” Silver growls.
“He’s not in charge of me!” I gape. Why is he bringing Glen into this?!
“If not him, who then? You clearly need a keeper,” he scoffs.
“Who would you put in charge? You tell me, Silver. Is the Oddfather alive?”
“The Oddfather’s dead.” His hands drop from my waist. But he doesn’t move away.
“And somehow you’re not. Why is that, Silver?”
Grabbing my arm with bruising strength, Silver yanks me and turns on his heel in one movement. I struggle to walk alongside him, the hold at an awkward angle.
“Hey! Knock it off! Slow down! What are you doing?!” I say between pants as he drags me down the sidewalk. Not caring that he’s shoving his way through people.
“Ignore her!” Silver barks. “She’s not being hurt!”
Every face turns away from me in unison as if a celebrity suddenly appeared on the street and stole their collective attention. I gasp with horror, continuing to stagger behind him. Trying to twist my arm away is useless. He only tightens his grip. But he messed up. He’s holding the arm with the gloved hand and not looking back at me. Silver’s very busy clenching his jaw hard enough to snap his dentures and yelling commands at strangers.
I grab my phone and send a text to Caite.
He’s very angry. Using his powers. Do not approach. Possible kidnapping.
I don’t feel unsafe cause I’m dumb. Don’t call Glen.
As soon as the message sends, I delete it and tuck my phone away. I whine and flail in an attempt to draw his attention.
“Where are you taking me?”
Silver doesn’t verbally respond. But he does pause mid-step, wrench my arm forward and nearly throw me to the ground. An arm catches me behind the knees, the other at my back, and he scoops me up into a bridal carry. Unluckily for him, his swift, jerky movements throw my face into the crook of his neck, exposed skin unintentionally meeting my lips. Silver’s body shudders around me.
As he starts walking again, I loop my arms around him for my own stability. His reaction confuses me. If he was angry with me, wouldn’t he cringe from my touch? Lifting my head, I glance at the side of his face and the one eye I can see. This up close and from a side view, the contacts provide less coverage for his blood-orange irises.
Silver snaps at more onlookers to mind their business.
“Your eyes are orange,” I whisper into his ear.
“I am very aware of what I’m feeling,” he growls and shudders again, arms tightening around me.
“I make you sad?”
Silver releases a string of curses under his breath. “You make me worry.”
His pace picks up, carrying me in hurried silence. I keep watch around us for any signs of Caite or the rental car. Silver ducks down an alley and enters a pathway between buildings. Some look like apartments, others pubs and businesses. Every one of them feels like an afterthought, like the downtown area sprung up around them years after they were built.
Silver hops down a set of mossy stone steps covered in blue rock salt to a concrete alcove built into the side of a pub. The door is opened and closed in a blink, plunging us into darkness. Instinctively, I tighten my hold around his neck.
“Why are you kidnapping me?”
“I’m not. We need privacy.”
Boots squeaking as he walks, I suspect the floor is unfinished. Suddenly, we’re dropping down. I gasp, but I don’t hit the ground. The sound of knees hitting a mattress is followed by Silver bending forward and laying me on my side. My legs somehow end up between his knees. A lamp clicks on. It doesn’t produce enough light to see anything past the alien kneeling before me and the mattress on the ground.
Silver unbuttons his coat, tossing it near the lamp along with his scarf. His fingers make quick work of my coat, not giving me a chance to remove it myself. It, along with my scarf, hat, gloves, purse, and phone, are set aside but not thrown. He takes care of my things, putting them in a neat pile. Snatching a plastic container from the base of the lamp, Silver removes his contacts and puts the case back. He blinks down at me, eyes still the heart-aching orange color.
“What color is my aura?” I ask, tilting my head.
I know what it should be. Yellow. But I don’t have an ounce of fear in my body. Trying to force myself to not let my anger fuck this up any further has turned me numb. I already pushed him too far in public. I should have just stayed on track, kissed him silly and then walked hand in hand back to his hiding place. But no, that’s too easy.
“Purple.” His lips tilt like he’s stiffing a smile.
Ah, yes. I am surprised. By his anger, his kidnapping, and telling me I’m wrong.
Adjusting my hips so I’m on my back, I sit up and place one hand on his stiff forearm. He kneels with palms on his thighs. The cotton of his basic black long-sleeve shirt is hot to the touch.
“Makes sense. You claim you’re not kidnapping me, but—”
“Why are you here, Lilly?”
I frown, both because it’s how my brain wants to react and it’s how I should react. I still have a solid chance to stab him in the back. Getting answers out of him clearly isn’t going to be easy. I sense he’s suspicious of me, as he should be. But he probably wrongly assumes the reason. That I’ll rat him out to Wesley. I have zero intentions of doing that. No, I like Caite’s plan.
Even if it makes me just as evil as Silver.
“I told you. I’d give up everything to tell you I love you.”
Silver cuts me off. Diving forward, our lips crash together. I fall back onto the bed, arms wrapping around his shoulders. My legs spread and loop around his hips. The whiplash of his emotions sends my mind spinning. His mouth on mine, kissing me like a starving man, knocks my logic away. I can’t think of anything more than fragments if it isn’t about touching him. The weight of Silver, holding me down but not crushing me, feeds my desire.
Our tongues are chasing each other, lips caught between each other’s teeth, and moans mixing together. I’m in heaven. The better it feels physically, the worse I feel emotionally. I loved him and he left me behind with a pile of bodies. He killed my husband.
“Rex,” I say between kisses.
He pauses, pulling back just enough to separate our mouths, eyes fluttering open. Their redness pokes at my guilty conscience.
My chin trembles, jaw wrought with depressed tension. It’s not fake, and it’s not guilt. The question I want answered most refuses to leave the tip of my tongue. Eyes welling with tears, I drift a hand down the side of his face, resting it in a hollow cheek. His eyes close. He swallows hard, as if he knows exactly what I’m about to say and can’t bear to watch me say it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I croak.
Silver’s teeth grind. His eyelids wrinkling. He tries to push away, but I stop him by grabbing his upper arms.
“Why didn’t you die?” My tone is harsher than intended, but I suppose that’s better. He doesn’t deserve comfort.
“I used my powers and then I ran,” Silver says softly and hangs his head.
“You didn’t need to kill them to run away from Gridwell,” I sniff. My tears dry up.
His head snaps up, eyes opened wide. “I didn’t. I found them dead.”
The expression on his face isn’t one of anger or disgust or insult. It’s one of concern. He’s looking at me like he’s worried, but that look is much deeper than just worrying about my belief in his story. It sends unease tangling with the sadness and desire in my belly. I want to shrink away from him.
“You’re safer without me, Caoineag,” Silver says, pain lacing the words.
I get the sense he has another sentence on the tip of his tongue.
“Tell me,” I whisper, lying back and letting go of his arms.
“Tell you what?”
“Whatever you’re holding back.”
Silver huffs and looks around the room, his tongue sliding over his teeth.
“Or we can switch the order of operations back to my early suggestion. You fuck me first and talk second.”