My Soul to Keep
Page 8
Hes still asleep. What did you guys do last night, anyway?
I dropped my duffel on the faded couch, going for nonchalance, though I hated withholding information from her even worse than from my father. Party at Scotts house. Doug Fuller rammed my parked car with an 08 Mustang.
Oh, no! Harmony stopped in the kitchen doorway, holding the swinging door open with one palm. Youre insured, right?
Liability only. Thats all I could afford, working twelve hours a week at the Cinemark. But Dougs parents are loaded, and theres no way they can say Im at fault. I wasnt even in the car.
Well, thats good at least, right? I nodded, and she waved one hand toward the short hallway branching off from the opposite side of the living room. Go wake up van Winkle and see if you can get him to eat something. Im making apple-cinnamon muffins.
Harmony was always baking something, and always from scratch. She was really more like a grandmother than a mom, in that respect, though she looked more like Nashs older sister. She was eighty-two years old, with the face and body of a thirty-year-old.
So far, slow postpuberty aging was the only real advantage Id discovered to being a bean sidhe. My father was one hundred thirty-two and didnt look a day over forty.
Nash didnt answer when I knocked, so I slipped into his room, then closed the door and leaned against it, watching him sleep. He looked so vulnerable in his boxers, one side of his face buried in the pillow, one leg tangled near the bottom of his sheet.
I knelt by the bed and brushed thick brown hair from his forehead. The room was warm, but his skin was cool, so I started to cover him up, but before I could, his face twisted into a grimace, his eyes still squeezed shut.
He was breathing too fast. Almost panting. His teeth ground together, then he made a helpless mewling sound. His arms tensed. He clenched handfuls of the fitted sheet.
I watched Nashs nightmare from the outside, trying to decide if I should wake him up or let the dream play out. But then his eyes flew open and he gasped, his gaze still unfocused. He scuttled over the mattress, bare chest heaving, and stood against the far wall, staring across the bed at me. His irises churned in terror for several seconds before recognition settled into place and by then my own heart was racing in response to his fear.
Kaylee? He whispered my name, like he wasnt sure he could trust his own eyes.
Yeah, its me. I stood as his breathing slowed and he started to calm down. Nightmare?
He rubbed both hands over his face, and when he met my gaze again he was calm, back in control of his expression. And of his eyes. Yeah, I guess.
What was it about?
I dont remember. Hefrowned and sank onto the mattress. I just know it was bad. But the waking up part is good so far
Nash pulled me onto his lap. So, whats with the personal wake-up? He swept my hair over one shoulder and suddenly I was acutely aware that he was half-naked and now very close. Phone calls just arent as satisfying anymore? he whispered, trailing feather-soft kisses down my neck.
He leaned us both back, and before I even realized what had happened, I was lying on his bed, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His lips trailed down my neck again and his hand roamed over my shirt, and all I could think was that I didnt want to stop him. Hed waited long enough. I wanted to just let it happen
My next exhale was ragged, and I couldnt control my racing pulse.
I, uh What was I saying? What did he ask? Suddenly it didnt seem to matter.
His hand slid beneath my shirt, but his fingers were freezing on my skin, and the shock woke me up. Irritated, I pulled Nash away and sat up to frown at him. Are you Influencing me?
He shrugged, a heated grin turned up one side of his mouth. Just helping you relax.
Dont Influence me, Nash! I stood, struggling to sustain my anger with his voice still slithering through my mind.
Dont ever do that to me when Im not singing for someones soul. Sometimes his voice helped me quiet my bean sidhe wail, but thats not what this was. Not even close. I hate losing control. Its like falling off a cliff in slow motion. Or being sedated. And thats not what I came in here for, I insisted, waving one hand at the bed.
Nash scowled, and that tremendous, irresistible false calm deserted me, leaving only the chill of its sudden absence and his obvious irritation. How am I supposed to know that? I wake up and youre in my bedroom with the door closed. What was I supposed to think? That you want to play Scrabble?
I I frowned, unsure how to finish that thought. Had I sent him some kind of signal? Was I wearing my Im done with my virginity, please get rid of it for me T-shirt? Your moms in the other room!
Whatever. He sighed and pulled me closer by one hand.
Forgive me?
Only if you promise to play nice.
I swear. So, whats up? He leaned back on a pillow propped against his headboard, hands linked behind his skull, putting himself on display in case I changed my mind.
You said youd give me a ride.
His eyes swirled with mischief, and my cheeks blazed when I realized what Id said. Umyoure the one who said no.
I dropped my duffel on the faded couch, going for nonchalance, though I hated withholding information from her even worse than from my father. Party at Scotts house. Doug Fuller rammed my parked car with an 08 Mustang.
Oh, no! Harmony stopped in the kitchen doorway, holding the swinging door open with one palm. Youre insured, right?
Liability only. Thats all I could afford, working twelve hours a week at the Cinemark. But Dougs parents are loaded, and theres no way they can say Im at fault. I wasnt even in the car.
Well, thats good at least, right? I nodded, and she waved one hand toward the short hallway branching off from the opposite side of the living room. Go wake up van Winkle and see if you can get him to eat something. Im making apple-cinnamon muffins.
Harmony was always baking something, and always from scratch. She was really more like a grandmother than a mom, in that respect, though she looked more like Nashs older sister. She was eighty-two years old, with the face and body of a thirty-year-old.
So far, slow postpuberty aging was the only real advantage Id discovered to being a bean sidhe. My father was one hundred thirty-two and didnt look a day over forty.
Nash didnt answer when I knocked, so I slipped into his room, then closed the door and leaned against it, watching him sleep. He looked so vulnerable in his boxers, one side of his face buried in the pillow, one leg tangled near the bottom of his sheet.
I knelt by the bed and brushed thick brown hair from his forehead. The room was warm, but his skin was cool, so I started to cover him up, but before I could, his face twisted into a grimace, his eyes still squeezed shut.
He was breathing too fast. Almost panting. His teeth ground together, then he made a helpless mewling sound. His arms tensed. He clenched handfuls of the fitted sheet.
I watched Nashs nightmare from the outside, trying to decide if I should wake him up or let the dream play out. But then his eyes flew open and he gasped, his gaze still unfocused. He scuttled over the mattress, bare chest heaving, and stood against the far wall, staring across the bed at me. His irises churned in terror for several seconds before recognition settled into place and by then my own heart was racing in response to his fear.
Kaylee? He whispered my name, like he wasnt sure he could trust his own eyes.
Yeah, its me. I stood as his breathing slowed and he started to calm down. Nightmare?
He rubbed both hands over his face, and when he met my gaze again he was calm, back in control of his expression. And of his eyes. Yeah, I guess.
What was it about?
I dont remember. Hefrowned and sank onto the mattress. I just know it was bad. But the waking up part is good so far
Nash pulled me onto his lap. So, whats with the personal wake-up? He swept my hair over one shoulder and suddenly I was acutely aware that he was half-naked and now very close. Phone calls just arent as satisfying anymore? he whispered, trailing feather-soft kisses down my neck.
He leaned us both back, and before I even realized what had happened, I was lying on his bed, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His lips trailed down my neck again and his hand roamed over my shirt, and all I could think was that I didnt want to stop him. Hed waited long enough. I wanted to just let it happen
My next exhale was ragged, and I couldnt control my racing pulse.
I, uh What was I saying? What did he ask? Suddenly it didnt seem to matter.
His hand slid beneath my shirt, but his fingers were freezing on my skin, and the shock woke me up. Irritated, I pulled Nash away and sat up to frown at him. Are you Influencing me?
He shrugged, a heated grin turned up one side of his mouth. Just helping you relax.
Dont Influence me, Nash! I stood, struggling to sustain my anger with his voice still slithering through my mind.
Dont ever do that to me when Im not singing for someones soul. Sometimes his voice helped me quiet my bean sidhe wail, but thats not what this was. Not even close. I hate losing control. Its like falling off a cliff in slow motion. Or being sedated. And thats not what I came in here for, I insisted, waving one hand at the bed.
Nash scowled, and that tremendous, irresistible false calm deserted me, leaving only the chill of its sudden absence and his obvious irritation. How am I supposed to know that? I wake up and youre in my bedroom with the door closed. What was I supposed to think? That you want to play Scrabble?
I I frowned, unsure how to finish that thought. Had I sent him some kind of signal? Was I wearing my Im done with my virginity, please get rid of it for me T-shirt? Your moms in the other room!
Whatever. He sighed and pulled me closer by one hand.
Forgive me?
Only if you promise to play nice.
I swear. So, whats up? He leaned back on a pillow propped against his headboard, hands linked behind his skull, putting himself on display in case I changed my mind.
You said youd give me a ride.
His eyes swirled with mischief, and my cheeks blazed when I realized what Id said. Umyoure the one who said no.
