Page 90 of His Black Onyx

Chapter 47

Malia

"What's the first thing you're going to do?"

My question breaks the comfortable silence that has hugged us ever since the blissful waves of our joined peak started to recede. I'm lying in his arms, my limbs heavy and my heart slowly returning to a peaceful beat. A smile has been tugging at the corner of my mouth, the joy of my climax still reverberating through my entire body.

"What do you mean?" he asks back, his eyes still latched on to the ceiling above us.

"After the mission," I elaborate. "You said you wanted to leave the Covey. If you're serious about this, then you must have thought about what you're going to do first, right?"

I look up at him, worried that he might take my question the wrong way, after the little dispute we had earlier. But he doesn't look irritated at all. On the contrary, there's a smile playing on his face when he reciprocates my gaze.

"Well, there were many options, and they changed with every twist this mission took," he says. "Before we found you, it looked like I would have to make a quick and dirty escape. That's actually what we were getting ready for, that night, when we... took you."

An apologetic expression crosses his face. "That night in Atlantic City was supposed to be our last night as Covey men—we wanted to blow off some steam, before we'd embark on our desertion."

He pauses smiling pensively as he hugs me closer.

"But then we found you, our only hope," he says. "And Mission Onyx was back on the table. If it all works out, I may be able to leave the Covey without leaving behind any bad blood."

I swallow dryly, unsure how to feel about what he's telling me. Was that really a hint of pride running down my spine when he called me his only hope? Is that an appropriate response to what he's done to me?

"But still, you have no plan? Nowhere to go?" I prod, if mostly to divert my mind from my own pondering.

He shakes his head. "Can't say that I do."

"How about your family? Your brother?" I want to know. "Shouldn't you be able to reconcile with them?"

"Who says that I'd want that?" He asks, arching his eyebrows.

"I thought that this is what this whole revenge thing is about? To make your family forgive you for what has happened."

Again, he shakes his head, more prominently this time. His face turns serious, the hint of a frown gracing his expression.

"It's nothing like that," he says. "I'm not even sure it would matter in the eyes of my father. He's long since manifested his opinion about me, no matter what. Killing a mob family to make up for a misdeed they pulled on us will hardly help that. On the contrary..."

"And your brother?"

"He might see things differently," Nate says, shrugging. "His take on this world is more similar to mine than my father would think."

He shifts next to me, rolling on to his side to look at me directly. His hazel hair is ruffled and sticking to his right temple, giving him a boyish look that makes him look so much younger—and so damn sexy that my heart flutters nervously just by looking at him. I can't believe a man as gorgeous as him would ever want a girl like me. Even after all that happened, and the way he looks at me, his gray eyes laced with affection, it's hard to wrap my head around it.

"How about you?" he wants to know. "What will you do?"

I scoff. "I... I will just... go back."

He lets out a sinister chuckle. "No, that's not enough. Tell me something you're looking forward to."

Our eyes lock onto each other as silence, heavy with meaning, stretches between us. His look is so intense and unyielding, but in a different way than I'm used to. It's not a demand for me to comply that's mirrored in his eyes, but sincere interest.

I don't know why, but his inquiry takes me by surprise, leaving me a little blindsided for a few moments before I manage to come up with a response.

"My birthday," I blurt out, bewildered at myself.

He knots up his eyebrows, urging me explain by jutting his chin toward me.

"It's in about a month," I say, feeling silly for what I'm about to tell him. "And... my parents and I, we have this tradition of going to Newport then. It's usually a hot day and there's this little ice cream vendor, close to where the cliff walk starts, next to Easton's Beach. We've been going there every year since I can remember, and for some reason, we still do."

I pause, lowering my eyes as I think back to a time that feels so distant and so surreal now—and to a person who I feel I can no longer be. I thought that the things that happened with my friend Liliane had already changed me for good. But this past week or so doesn't compare to anything I have experienced in my life before, and the imprint it'll leave on my soul is hard to imagine.

All I know is that it has changed me forever.

"You'll go to that ice cream vendor," he says solemnly. "I'll make sure of that."

Our eyes meet again, and I can't stop the tears from shimmering in mine. His promise touches me deeply, because I can tell that he means it. He's not just saying it to make me play along, to calm me down so I can be his obedient pawn that asks no questions.

He means it—because he cares about me.

"You'll live," he adds, caressing my cheek with the tip of his finger. "You'll get through this, we both will. You'll live and you'll get to return to your old life. And you will go to that ice cream vendor on your birthday."

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