Mari Mancusi - Scorched

Content? something inside of her nagged, or brainwashed?

Either way, now she was stuck here right alongside them, she realized, as the panic rose inside of her once again. Whether she liked it or not.

Two hours later—or was it three?—Trinity paced the soft-carpeted floor of the most luxurious chamber she’d ever seen, located in a space that had once held a Baby Gap. Draped in lush crimsons and accented in gold, the room had all the luxuries Trinity could have ever imagined and then some, all done up in her favorite colors and styles.

It was almost as if someone had gone into her head and plucked all her secret fantasies from her brain and made them real. From the king-sized canopy bed wrapped in sheer silk curtains to the stylish sitting room with plush upholstery and a glittering chandelier. There was even a gigantic marble bathroom, complete with steam shower and whirlpool tub—and one of those fancy Japanese toilets with all the extra buttons that Trin had always been curious to try.

The other recruits—the Potentials—all lived in dorms, she’d been told, located in the former Sears at the other end of the mall. The boys on the second floor, the girls on the first. But the girl who had founded their organization—the Fire Kissed herself!—was too special to be subjected to those humble accommodations. She deserved only the best.

And only the best it was. The best prison cell ever.

It was the silence that was the worst. When she’d gotten back to her room after lunch, she’d tried to reach Emmy, to restore the connection between them. She’d gotten so used to the dragon babbling and chirping in her head over the last few days, the sudden absence felt deafening. Where had they taken her? Was she okay? She wondered if she’d made a mistake allowing them to make off with the egg in the first place. But Caleb had assured her they would take good care of the dragon. That was the whole reason they’d come back in time to begin with, after all. But still, Trinity couldn’t help but wonder.

A knock sounded on the door. She turned to it reluctantly. “Who’s there?” she asked.

“Caleb.”

Her heart started. Where had he been? She hadn’t seen him since they’d first arrived and she realized, annoyingly, that she’d kind of missed him. Which was stupid, she knew, to miss someone who’d basically kidnapped you and held you against your will. What did they call it? Stockholm syndrome? Ugh. What a total cliché. Just because he’d been kind to her, helped her shut out the voices in her head, held her hand as she cried for Emmy. Big freaking deal. At the end of the day, he was still sardonic and cynical and kind of a douche. Nothing like his brave, heroic brother, Connor, who had honor and dignity and…

…wants you dead , a voice inside jabbed.

She sighed, stalking to the door and ripping it open. “Where have you been?” she demanded, her voice sounding angrier than she’d meant it to.

“Nice to see you too, princess,” he replied coolly as he stepped into the room. He had changed from his dusty road clothes and was now wearing a plain white T-shirt and slouchy jeans. His hair was still damp, slicked back from his face, and he smelled of Irish Spring soap. She cleared her throat, pretending not to be affected, as she stole a glance at herself in the mirror, wishing she’d taken the time to comb out her curls after her bath, then scolded herself for caring.

She realized he’d come bearing gifts—namely a cart of covered silver platters, linen napkins, fine tableware, and a carafe of what appeared to be coffee and another of soda. Prison room service? She would have laughed if she weren’t so pissed.

“I’m not hungry,” she declared, forcing her eyes away from the cart.

Caleb didn’t reply. Instead, he busied himself with the covers, removing them one by one. Heaping bowls of pasta, steaming platters of rice, pizzas dripping with cheese—it went on and on, the rich, savory smells torturing Trinity until her stomach betrayed her with a feral growl. After her uneasy conversation with the Potentials, she’d been too freaked out to eat and now she was absolutely ravenous. But still. She scowled and turned away, plopping down on her bed, arms crossed over her chest. She would not be bought by something as simple as a mall-cooked meal.

“I don’t want it,” she repeated. “Take it away.”

But Caleb only continued his reveal—mountains of mashed potatoes, buttery rolls fresh from the oven, glistening vegetables, and sugary desserts. Every single dish one of her favorites.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, giving her a skeptical look. “After all, everything’s been prepared exactly the way you like it according to our records.”

She frowned. According to their records. In other words, the time travelers had studied her life like it was some kind of history project—just like with the bedroom—thinking they could win her over by plying her with her favorite things. It should have felt good, for them to have given so much thought, taken so much care. But instead it felt invasive, an unfair advantage.

“Come on, Trin,” Caleb cajoled. “It’s just food. It’s not like I looked up your bra size.” He gave her a winning smile. She scowled back.

“What, do you want a medal for that?”

“Hey, I think I exhibited tremendous restraint!” He joined her over on the bed, dropping his impish grin and giving her a serious look. “Okay, what’s wrong?” he asked. “I thought you’d be pleased. The Dracken went through a lot of trouble to design all of this for you. We did extensive research into what makes you happy. So why aren’t you happy?”

He made it sound so simple, like a math problem or something. They gave her what she wanted; she’d do what they wanted. But it didn’t work like that.

“How can I be happy?” she demanded, turning to him and meeting his eyes with her own. She realized her hands were shaking and shoved them under her thighs. “I’ve lost everything I ever had. My only family is MIA and I’m trapped in a freaking shopping mall with the children of the corn. Trust me, no amount of pineapple and feta cheese pizza is going to make this any better.”

“Even if it came from Deluca’s?”

She involuntarily glanced over at the pizza sitting on the tray. “ Did it come from Deluca’s?”

“Sadly, no.” Caleb shrugged. “I was just curious if it would have made a difference.”

She groaned, grabbing a pillow and shoving it into his face. “You’re so not helping.”

“Oh really?” He tapped the side of his head, his eyebrows quirking. “Mind reader, remember? I know for a fact that I’m helping. Helping a lot, actually. You don’t want to admit it, I know. But that doesn’t make it untrue.”

Her face flushed. Rising to her feet, she stalked over to the other side of the room. “That’s so unfair,” she growled.

He laughed. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He pranced over and grabbed her hands in his. “But you’ve got to try to relax, princess. You’re going to drive yourself to an early grave. Which, I might selfishly mention, would be catastrophic for the rest of us sorry humans. After all, you’re—”

“The Fire Kissed,” she finished for him in her best over-the-top fantasy-film voice. “The one who will save our world.” She yanked her hands away. “Seriously, if you start telling me there’s one ring to rule them all or that the force will be with me always, I’m going to smack you upside the head.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “You don’t need the force or some silly ring—not when you have a dragon by your side.”

She groaned loudly, pressing a hand to the wall and leaning against it. “I’m going insane. That’s the only explanation for any of this. I’m going insane and the men in white coats will be showing up at any moment to tell me this has all been a psychotic delusion. They’ll take me away and lock me up, and I’ll be free to drool in the corner of my padded cell for the rest of my life without a care in the world.”