Read Online Oculus (Oculus #1) by J. L. Mac, L. G. Pace III - Free Book Online
Authors: J. L. Mac, L. G. Pace III
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flutter at my neck.
“Oh. Um. Iris Tierney. Pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” The inappropriate undercurrents in his comments don’t escape me. I’ve heard of Dillon Ingram before and it would seem that the things I’ve heard aren’t too far off the mark.
It’s rumored that, being the Chief of Fenra Security, he often abuses his position to do as he pleases… and to do who he pleases.
“I’ll leave a message with the dean,” the woman at the desk amends, bringing my attention back to her.
“Thank you.” I turn with my stick in hand and think for a moment, doing my best to recall the route back to the main entrance.
“I’ll walk you out,” Chief Ingram says as he helps himself to my arm.
“I’m quite capable. Thank you.” His grip on my arm tightens as he pulls me forward.
“I don’t need your help.” I insist, again, tugging my arm from his.
“Oh, but I think you do. I oversee all the Security Prospects. I can find a nice… position for you in my department.”
“I—”
“No test needed,” he whispers. “… Just the pleasure of your company.”
I’d be lying if I said I don’t consider his crude offer for a moment or two. I could have a place. A purpose. It’s a way in but almost immediately I feel repulsed by his obvious exploitation of power and of me .
“No. Thank. You.” I grind out my answer with as much conviction as I can muster as we come to a stop outside the entrance of the school.
“Think about it,” he whispers again, this time with his lips just barely brushing against my earlobe. It elicits an unwelcome tingle that spreads across every inch of my skin. I hear him exhale and I’m tempted to touch his face to see if he’s wearing the smirk that I just know he is but he’s already gone.
Before I can say anything else, he leaves me standing here, contemplating how much I’m willing to sell my self-worth to the devil in return for the chance to feel… normal.
“Moral wounds have this peculiarity-they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart.” – The Count of Monte Cristo , Alexandre Dumas
I THOUGHT THAT THE DAY I lost Anna was the worst day of my life. Then the sun came up the next day. Facing the morning, knowing that I wasn’t going to see her ever again, made me want to curl back up in my blankets. With each passing moment, the reality of her loss settled upon me like an iron weight in my chest. By the time I left her gravesite behind I had accepted that she was gone, but I wasn’t ready to accept her loss. I’m still not ready. The Corporations are going to suffer for what they have taken from me. Before I can get to work though I need to lighten my load.
To do that, I need to visit The Black Market. A roiling collection of tents, trailers and portable structures, it’s never set up in the same place for more than a few days. Coded messages are sent out over the HAM radio network, letting prospective clients know where to find the travelling bazaar.
The current location is set up around an old metal barn, up in the hills. As I approach I spot the security team well before they encircle me. Some of them are pretty good, almost escaping my notice. What they lack in military precision though they make up for in ordinance. One man steps out of cover onto the road, but I’ve already seen at least two more moving into position, both with high-powered rifles. The man on the path is in his twenties, with a shaved baldhead, and black bushy eyebrows that frame his brown eyes. He’s dressed in a motley homemade camouflage outfit.
“Hello there, Good Sir! Where are you off to with such a big bundle?” His cheerful tone is offset somewhat by the large caliber handgun he’s carrying. Glancing behind me, I see people have moved into position to close the trap. Keeping my hands open, I look pointedly around, then back at the man on the
“Oh. Um. Iris Tierney. Pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” The inappropriate undercurrents in his comments don’t escape me. I’ve heard of Dillon Ingram before and it would seem that the things I’ve heard aren’t too far off the mark.
It’s rumored that, being the Chief of Fenra Security, he often abuses his position to do as he pleases… and to do who he pleases.
“I’ll leave a message with the dean,” the woman at the desk amends, bringing my attention back to her.
“Thank you.” I turn with my stick in hand and think for a moment, doing my best to recall the route back to the main entrance.
“I’ll walk you out,” Chief Ingram says as he helps himself to my arm.
“I’m quite capable. Thank you.” His grip on my arm tightens as he pulls me forward.
“I don’t need your help.” I insist, again, tugging my arm from his.
“Oh, but I think you do. I oversee all the Security Prospects. I can find a nice… position for you in my department.”
“I—”
“No test needed,” he whispers. “… Just the pleasure of your company.”
I’d be lying if I said I don’t consider his crude offer for a moment or two. I could have a place. A purpose. It’s a way in but almost immediately I feel repulsed by his obvious exploitation of power and of me .
“No. Thank. You.” I grind out my answer with as much conviction as I can muster as we come to a stop outside the entrance of the school.
“Think about it,” he whispers again, this time with his lips just barely brushing against my earlobe. It elicits an unwelcome tingle that spreads across every inch of my skin. I hear him exhale and I’m tempted to touch his face to see if he’s wearing the smirk that I just know he is but he’s already gone.
Before I can say anything else, he leaves me standing here, contemplating how much I’m willing to sell my self-worth to the devil in return for the chance to feel… normal.
“Moral wounds have this peculiarity-they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart.” – The Count of Monte Cristo , Alexandre Dumas
I THOUGHT THAT THE DAY I lost Anna was the worst day of my life. Then the sun came up the next day. Facing the morning, knowing that I wasn’t going to see her ever again, made me want to curl back up in my blankets. With each passing moment, the reality of her loss settled upon me like an iron weight in my chest. By the time I left her gravesite behind I had accepted that she was gone, but I wasn’t ready to accept her loss. I’m still not ready. The Corporations are going to suffer for what they have taken from me. Before I can get to work though I need to lighten my load.
To do that, I need to visit The Black Market. A roiling collection of tents, trailers and portable structures, it’s never set up in the same place for more than a few days. Coded messages are sent out over the HAM radio network, letting prospective clients know where to find the travelling bazaar.
The current location is set up around an old metal barn, up in the hills. As I approach I spot the security team well before they encircle me. Some of them are pretty good, almost escaping my notice. What they lack in military precision though they make up for in ordinance. One man steps out of cover onto the road, but I’ve already seen at least two more moving into position, both with high-powered rifles. The man on the path is in his twenties, with a shaved baldhead, and black bushy eyebrows that frame his brown eyes. He’s dressed in a motley homemade camouflage outfit.
“Hello there, Good Sir! Where are you off to with such a big bundle?” His cheerful tone is offset somewhat by the large caliber handgun he’s carrying. Glancing behind me, I see people have moved into position to close the trap. Keeping my hands open, I look pointedly around, then back at the man on the
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