Silver Elite

by Dani Francis

When you’re petrified on a daily basis as a child, there aren’t many things left to fear as an adult. Except, perhaps, awkward conversations. I would rather fight a cougar barehanded than subject myself to an uncomfortable exchange. Truly.

Primes don’t have enhanced gifts. They also don’t experience any physical signs when someone infiltrates their thoughts, whereas Mods feel it like an electric shock. People like him should be on guard.

The Aberrant, as they call us. Or silverbloods, when they’re feeling nice.

We didn’t ask to be this way. Some thoughtless war a hundred and fifty years ago released the toxin that made us like this. We didn’t have a choice in the matter.

This guy is…inconceivably attractive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better-looking human, male or female. I’m momentarily lost in his cobalt-blue eyes, peering down at me from beneath thick lashes. His hair is dark, swept away from flawless, symmetrical features that could’ve been chiseled out of stone. Just the right amount of stubble shadows a strong jaw, and one corner of his mouth bears the indentation of a dimple. I wonder how pronounced it gets when he smiles, although judging by the cold, dangerous glint in his eyes, I get the feeling he doesn’t smile often.

the sympathizers who serve Redden in Sanctum Point, our capital city. Those traitors live cushy lives out there. Loyalty to the General certainly pays.

All telepaths have their own unique signature. When I was a kid, my uncle described it as your essence, a surge of energy exclusive to you. It’s almost impossible to explain unless you feel it yourself, but after an initial connection’s been formed, you automatically recognize the other person’s energy when they ask to link.

Yes, the majority are the very definition of silverbloods, the veins in our arms glowing when we’re using our powers. A rare few, like me, don’t fit that mold.

A Mod who can wield her powers without transmitting her actions to her enemies is a major asset for the Uprising.

“What about you?” I demand, glowering at his back. “Mr. Silent over here. Got nothing to say? Who are you?” He stops, turning to spare me a glance over his shoulder. His lips curve slightly as he finally speaks. “I’m the one who decides whether you walk out of here alive.”

“Put her in Stock C until I’m ready for her.” Until he’s ready for me? Because that isn’t ominous.

My name is Wren Darlington and I am not a Mod. I’ve been hiding who I am my entire life. Today will be no different.

“I’m Second Lieutenant Xavier Ford, and I’ll be your head instructor for this session. You can call me sir or LT. No preference.” I wonder if he stole the speech from Captain Cross. Asshole is taken, so I’ll have to call this one Prick.

There’s no place for morality in war.

Despite the tight quarters, sleep eventually claims me, the rhythmic sounds of my enemies’ breathing coaxing me into a restless slumber.

“Does it get you off, the idea of forcing women to do things they don’t want to do?” “I didn’t realize you were so interested in what gets me off.” I recoil. “I’m not.” His gaze locks with mine. “Are you sure?” “Fucking positive.” “That’s a shame. I’d be happy to satisfy your curiosity.”

He watches me again, silent and pensive. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a problem for me?” “Probably.”

“Cross.” Lyddie can tell I’m not following, so she gestures toward the tall, tattooed man across the room. “That’s Cross Redden, Wren. The General’s son.”

“What makes you appealing to him.” He leans closer. “Because you’re a complete quat.” I can’t stop a snort. “Who taught you how to flirt?” “I’m not flirting. I don’t want to fuck you.” “Thanks for clarifying that, too. I was in the throes of lust for you until you said that.”

This is General Redden’s son. I shouldn’t care what his ink means. I shouldn’t notice how dangerous it makes him look. I shouldn’t find that danger embarrassingly sexy.

“What did I tell you about touching me without permission?” It’s intended to be a taunt. But we both hear my voice shake. “It was just to steady you.” He gives a deliberate stroke to my stomach before removing his hand. Then he leans close to my ear. His voice is velvet dipped in honey. “Tell me to put my hand back.”

I won’t watch anyone else I care about get executed. So. Silver Elite, it is.

It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying when my lips are tingling with the urge to find out what his taste like.

“You’re not timid or weak, Dove. You’re a firestorm, and you’re going to burn everything in your path if you don’t learn how to restrain yourself.”

“I need to know what you taste like. Let me have it, Dove.” I lick my lips, and he groans again. “Let me. Fucking. Have it.”

“I told them you were innocent,” Jordan says, and I have no idea what I did to earn the conviction ringing in his voice. I’m not that good in bed.

“How long do I have to sit on you?” “For as long as I fucking tell you to,” he whispers back.

“You sent him away?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because he touched you this morning.”

“Would you have stopped me?” He teases the warm, swollen flesh that is aching for him. “Or would you have begged for more?” He slips his finger inside and I moan with abandon. That makes him chuckle. “Begged,” he concludes.

“Are there cameras in here?” That gets me a chuckle. “No.” He withdraws his fingers to tease my opening. “But goddamn do I wish there were.”

One more time won’t be the end of the world, will it?

“Are you still thinking about what happened?” “Yes.” “I’ll make you forget.”

There’s something incredibly thrilling about the notion that I helped create chaos.

“A dead General doesn’t dismantle the system. If you want to enact change, you need to do more than just take out the leader. You need to deprogram the minds. Root out the ideology.”

Either I’m completely crazy, or Cross’s mother is Modified.

“Who are you?” he repeats, his breath escaping in a hiss. “Who told you that story?” “Can I…” I try to speak through the laughter. “Can I ask you something?” He raises the knife. Just millimeters. He’s still wound tighter than a cobra. He can slice my throat at any second. “Is your favorite animal still a wolf?”

“Pull the trigger, Jayde.” With a sudden, sickening click, Jayde obeys.