Shattered Promises

Page 16

I nod my head, knowing exactly what he means, even though he didn’t say it—the sparks. “Yeah… I think so.”
“Then that’s how you know I’m real. You won’t feel that with the mirage.”
He’s right. While I was holding the counterfeit's hand, I felt nothing but hollowness and that’s why I sensed something was off.
He knows things, about me—I know he does—and I need the answers more than I need air. “You know things about me?” I ask. “Don’t you?”
He rubs his tense jaw and shuts his eyes. “I do.”
I force the lump in my throat down. “How?”
His eyes open and it’s like staring into my own, the amount of pain is infinite. “Sit down and I’ll try to explain. Even though, it’s going to be nearly fucking impossible.”
Desperate to understand what secrets he has locked away inside, I settle on the couch, and let my questions pour out of me. “Okay, so how did we get here? And what were those things back there? Those... Death Walkers? And how do you know about them…” I trail off.
Alex is staring at me with eyes as big as golf balls. “Are you going to give me a chance to talk? Or do you want to just keep going with the questions?”
“Sorry, but they’ve been piling up at a very rapid rate,” I say and he stifles a smile. “But, I’ll try to calm down and get them out one by one.”
He stares off into empty space, lost in thought. “Take off your coat.”
“Huh… Why?”
Desire burns in his eyes. “You have to take your coat off if you want me to get the glass out of your side.
My thoughts coast back to when I had the orgasm while we were on the bed. It was the most incredible feeling I’ve experienced yet and I wonder how much better it would be if we were closer, touching, bare skin to bare…
“Gemma.” Alex’s voice jerks me out of my thoughts.
I blink at him and then carefully slip my arms out of my sleeves, easing my coat off. “God, it hurts.”
Alex chucks his coat off, rolls up the sleeves of his black thermal shirt, and stretches his arm toward me, his fingers moving for my side.
“What are you doing?” My muscles tense as his hand nears me.
His hand freezes as I lean away from him and then he shakes his head. “Would you relax? I have to actually get close to you in order to look at that.” He points a finger at my wounded side.
“Oh, sorry, I’m just nervous, considering…” Where do I start with that?
He understands, nodding. “I get it, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”
I nod, put my hands on my lap, and kink my elbow out of the way so he can get a full view of my rib and the glass wedged in the skin like a splinter. He gradually lifts the bottom of my shirt and there’s a notable shake to his fingers as he inspects the area.
I suppress the gasp wanting to flee my lips as his fingers search each bump of my ribs and every spot of my skin. After what seems like an eternity, he pulls his hand back.
His eyes are amplified and his breathing speeds up. “Shit, I don’t know what to do.”
“Why? How bad is it?” I crane my neck and peel my shirt away from my skin to get a look at the injury myself. It doesn’t look that bad; narrow and not that long. There’s some blood dripping out, but not a significant amount.
Alex stares at me with a serious expression, then his mouth curves into a grin and laughter escapes his lips. “No, it’s not that bad at all. The piece of glass is small, and you’re barely bleeding. I should be able to get it out and stitch it up without any problems.” He glances at the door. “Just as soon as Aislin gets in here with the first-aid kit.”
I tug down my shirt and swat his arm with my hand. “That wasn’t funny. You had me worried I was seriously hurt.”
He glances at where I touched him and then back at my face. “Actually, it was funny.”
“Do you even know how to do stitches?” I ask. “Or is that something else you’re making up?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “What else am I making up?”
I motion my arm at the room with flourish. “Um, the fact that we’re here says how much you’ve made up.”
He props his foot up on his knee and leans back on the couch. “Actually, I never made anything up. I just didn’t tell you things.”
“Omission of the truth is just as bad as making shit up.”
“Says who?”
“Says me!”
We stare at each other with defiance; each of us refusing to look away and let the other win.
“Besides.” I adjust back on the sofa, moving carefully and cradling my side with my arm. “How do I know you haven’t been lying? I’ve known you for like a few weeks. For all I know your name isn’t even Alex.” I reach over and pinch his leg. His knee jerks and his foot falls to the floor. “And, are you even real? I saw another one of you for hell sakes.” I take a deep breath, staring forward as I shake my head. “I don’t even know what’s true and what isn’t anymore… what’s real and what’s not.”
He slants forward, catches my gaze and it nearly penetrates me. “Back at the cabin, when everything was happening, you said you knew the Death Walkers were going to kill you… how?”
“If I told you, you’d think I was insane,” I say and let my head flop onto the back of the sofa. “I even think it’s insane.”
I feel him move and then he’s above me, one of his elbows propped on each side of my head. He edges his face close and the fervor of his breath dampens my skin.
“I can completely and utterly assure you that nothing you say is going to make me question your sanity,” he says softly. “I promise you, I’ve seen and heard it all.”
I carefully consider what he says and then surrender to my doubts, knowing it can’t get much worse than it is. “I dreamt about them.”
“You dreamt about them?” he questions.
I nod my head and our foreheads clip. “A lot actually. For the last few months or so.”
He shifts his weight and puts a gap between our faces, but not our bodies. “And what happened in these dreams?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I blush. “Stuff… I don’t know. It went a little different each time, but it always ended the same.”
He scans my face with a curious expression. “Why do you look embarrassed?”
I shake my head and force my gaze to remain on his eyes and not his lips. “I’m just hot.”
He presses his lips together and then adjusts back in his seat, giving me some room.
I release a breath that was imprisoned inside my lungs, tuck my hair behind my ears, and stare at my hands. “It’s weird, you know, because this all seems real, but my mind’s screaming at me that it’s not possible. That there’s no way I could be sitting here when moments ago I was in your frozen car surrounded by…” I peer up at him as I lower my hands to my lap. “What did you call them? Death Walkers?”
He nods and grabs hold of one of my hands. “Why did you look at your hands just now?”
I push myself to look past the surging current his touch brings. “Because, in my dreams, they always turn blue, like I have frostbite or something.”
He frees my hand and I return it to my lap. “That’s because it is frostbite. Those things you saw, the Death Walkers, control the temperature of the air and since they favor the cold, they drop it rapidly wherever they are.”
My eyes sting with impending tears. “This is all so much.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but a loud thump from inside the house startles us both. We jump closer to each other as if we can’t help it. Before I can work up a wince from the static, he has his pocketknife out and the blade flipped open.
“Whose house are we at?” I whisper, not taking my eyes off the knife. It’s miniature and caked with dry flakes of blood.
He shakes his head, breaks his attention from the door, and sets the knife on a small square table next to the couch. “Laylen’s. He’s a friend of Aislin’s… and mine.” He reaches behind him and pulls back the curtain. “He lives in Vegas.”
Outside the window, dusk is advancing and casts a pinkish glow across the bronze sand that stretches for miles. I kneel up toward the window to get a closer look. “This can’t be real. None of this can.”
He lets the curtain fall closed. “Well it is. Trust me.” He places a hand on top of my chest. At first, I think he is trying to feel me up which seems inappropriate, considering the circumstances. “All of it is. You. Me. Everything.”
I inhale through my nose to maintain steady breathing. “Like monsters that freeze everything, or are you talking about other stuff?”
He moves his hand away and blows out a stressed breath. “I’m talking about a lot of things. Monsters are just the beginning of it and the rest is even more confusing.”
“More confusing? I can’t even fathom how that can be possible.”
“But, it is,” he mutters. “Way, way fucking confusing… and complicated.”
“I get complicated,” I say, thinking about my emotions and wondering if it has anything to do with what is going on. Although, I can’t connect it, it seems plausible. “But, what I don’t get is how we got here.”
He assesses me briefly, then turns sideways and slides his leg up on the sofa so his knee is pressing against mine. “Aislin transported us here.”
“Yeah, I heard you guys say that a lot, but what I don’t get is how. One minute we are all trapped in the car and the next I’m falling on the floor.” I omit the dirty dream I had about him for various reasons; one being, I don’t want my cheeks to turn red again.
He dithers. “She used a form of Wicca magic.”
I snort a laugh, but stop when I notice how solemn he looks. “You’re being serious? Because witches and magic aren’t supposed to be real.”
“They aren’t, huh?” he asks with a cock of his eyebrow. “Then, why don’t you explain how we got here?”
I shrug. “Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a delusional world brought on by the trauma of those things—those Death Walker things that are trying to kill me. Or maybe this is just another mirage and this entire house is fake.”
“So, let me get this straight,” he says, frustrated. “You’re saying you believe in something like the Death Walkers, who, by the way, are demons, but you don’t believe in magic or witches.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” I correct him. “I said that witches weren’t supposed to be real, but it doesn’t mean that I think the idea is unrealistic.”
“You’re extremely confusing, you know that?” he points out. “And calm. How can you be so calm in this kind of situation?”
I’m ridiculously calm and it is very unfitting for the situation. Most people would be running like hell to get away, or balled up in a corner banging their head on the wall; trying to force the madness out of their brains. “I have… issues… with fear… I mean, part of my brain is telling me that this is all just one big crazy delusion I’ve conjured up, but the other part is noting how very real everything feels. I’ve had some trouble in the past determining what’s real, too.”