Shattered Promises 02 - Fractured Souls Read Free Page B

He’s upset about something. “But you said he’s immortal? And that the sword won’t even kill him.”
    He presses his lips together. “Yeah.”
    “That’s all you have to say?” I’m baffled. “Is yeah.”
    He shrugs. “What else do you want me to say besides the fact that he is?"
    “How about explaining why you never mentioned this and how we’re supposed to get rid of him if he can’t die.” I clutch onto the locket, wishing it could make me feel safe, too, rather than so vulnerable.
    His expression hardens as he inclines back, putting space between us. “Even though he seems like he’s working for the bad side, he’s still my father and I don’t want to kill him.”
    “ Seems like he’s working for the bad side?” I fume. “Try is working for them. In fact, I’m pretty sure he might be the leader.”
    “Of who exactly?” he counters heatedly. “The Death Walkers? Demetrius?”
    “How the hell should I know? I never know half the shit that’s going on.”
    “Exactly.” He stands to his feet, towering over me. “Which is why you have no right to make accusations.”
    “I have the right to do whatever I want.” I rise to my feet very unsteadily and brace my hand on the bedpost to keep my balance. “Besides, the reason why I don’t know things is because you keep half the shit to yourself.”
    “And now we’re back to where we started,” he snaps hotly, stepping closer. Even though I’m tall, he’s much taller and I have to tip my chin up to meet his beautiful, yet heated eyes. “No matter what I say, you never trust me.”
    I point my finger at the door, ignoring the electric current boiling in my blood and dampening my skin with sweat. “Which means you can leave. That was the deal, right?”
    His gaze darkens as he slants closer to me, stopping only inches from my face. I can feel my heart thrashing in my chest and I’m almost certain I can hear his as well, erratic and pounding. At first I think he’s going to kiss me and I wonder how I’ll react if he does. The need spiraling inside my body makes me speculate if I’ll make a dumb choice, one based solely on my hormones.
    But then he steps back and raises his hands in front of him, surrendering. “Fine, you want me gone, then I’ll leave.” He storms to the door, pausing just in front of it to call over his shoulder, “Aislin put some clothes in the dresser if you want to get dressed.” He jerks open the door and steps out in the hallway.
    “Where are you going?” I ask, but he slams the door shut, cutting me off and leaving me alone in an unfamiliar room with my thoughts and confusion.
    I stare at the door for an eternity, trying to decide what to do. There’s no way he would really leave, is there? I doubt it, though I’m still not simply going to sit around and wonder.
    I stumble over to the window, dizzy and kind of nauseous. How long have I been out? I glance outside at the city and the sun setting. Hours? Days? Weeks? I have no idea. The last thing I can remember is Alex holding the rock in front of me and then seeing images of what I’d be missing out on, or what I thought I’d be missing out on. Then I blacked out and saw my mom begging me to help her. The question is: was that a dream or something more?
    Moving away from the window, I open the top dresser drawer and find a few clothes folded up inside. I take out a pair of very small, black shorts and a tight, maroon tank top that has a black ribbon lacing the front. Definitely not my style, but everything else in the drawer resembles the slutty gothic look so I slip them on anyway. There’s some sort of elastic in the shirt that pushes my breasts up and I feel fully exposed as I pull my tangled, long, brown hair up into a ponytail and secure it with an elastic that I find on top of the nightstand next to the bed. I carefully peel back the bandage on my wrist, wincing as the tender wound hits the air. It’s still fairly fresh, which means too much time