Shattered Promises

Page 21

“Oh, I know it’s not.” Carefully lifting my arms up, I take the elastic out of my hair and refasten it so my hair is in a secure ponytail. “I was being serious, Alex. The extent of our relationship makes sense to me now since I know,” I gesture my hand in front of me and heave a breath, “everything.”
He clicks the end button and stares wordlessly at me. I hold his gaze, unwavering, until the fiery connection becomes too much, then I look away and focus on a small piece of artwork on the wall. It’s splattered with blues and reds and there is a grey, stone castle in the background that has a familiar look to it. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just pissed off about… all the bullshit.”
I hear Aislin’s breath catch and Alex shakes his head, looking at her. “What? You knew she was like this when we enrolled in college, it was the reason why we enrolled.”
“Yeah, but…” she glances at me with wide eyes. “She’s so bad.”
“You know I can hear you, right?” I shake my head and turn for the door. “I need some fresh air.”
As my hand wraps around the doorknob, Alex’s fingers encircle my elbow. He hauls me backwards until my back is against his chest. “No wandering off alone.” His arm snakes around my waist, while the other pins my arms against my chest.
My breathing comes out in silent gasps. “Is that another rule?”
“Of mine? Yes. It’s called the rule of not getting yourself killed.”
I slant my head back to look him in the eyes. “I just need some fresh air. This is a lot to take in.”
“No wandering off by yourself,” he repeats, his gaze skimming to my lips.
“I’m not a child,” I remind him. “Now, if I want to step outside for two Goddamn minutes, I will.” I take a deep breath and then force my arms forward, hoping he’ll yield because there is no way I’m getting away by myself; he is just too strong.
His arms unstiffen and I move out of his hold; his hands sliding down my arms and along the back of my shirt as I step away.
“Stay close,” he says softly as he releases the hem of my shirt.
Without looking back, I hurry to the door before he changes his mind and decides to make it difficult. Once I’m out in the hall, I free a tension-filled breath that I’ve been suppressing for the last few hours as I head for the front door. I’m not sure what my initial plans are other than to get away from Alex and Aislin’s bluntness. They have a way of making me feel like I’m not real, like I’m a magical sword, instead of a human. It’s not my fault that I’m harboring a star inside me.
***
When I’m outside, I know I’m not going to run away. Besides the obvious fact that I’m surrounded my limitless desert, and I have no idea which direction will take me home, I’m also scared. I don’t want to die like I have in my dreams countless times. Alex and Aislin seem to know stuff that may help me stay alive and I want more answers about my past, my future and who I am. I want to know more.
I sit on the front porch as I take in the events of the last few hours. I have a cut on my side, blood on my shirt and a star inside my body. I glance over my hands and arms, then up each leg. I don’t look different or anything, but I feel different. That’s a given. Each day I feel different because each day I change inside—I grow emotionally. Sighing, I try to relax and clear my head. The desert air is intoxicatingly warm and the grey sky is ornamented with a few stars. I probably could stay here forever; and pretend nothing exists, besides me and the night sky.
“It’s peaceful out here, right?” a deep, sultry voice drifts over my shoulder.
My muscles tense at the unacquainted person’s arrival. I rotate my body and scan up his very long legs, his firm chest, all the way to his eyes, which are ocean blue and entrancing to look at. I’ve seen those eyes before; I’ve seen and felt all of him before. He’s the blond stranger that makes a frequent appearance in my dreams.
His features are more striking in person and he reminds me of a singer in a punk rock band. The tips of his blond hair are dyed blue and sweep across his forehead and down across his ears. A silver ring threads his deep red bottom lip. He has on a black t-shirt, black jeans and black combat boots. Greek-like symbols are tattooed on his forearm, inked in black with thick lines.
He smiles softly as his gaze lands on my eyes. “You know, the last time I saw you, you were maybe four-years-old.” He glances down at my chest making all the feelings from my dreams surface and steam across my skin. “You’ve grown up a lot.”
I rise to my feet with my eyes on him. He’s taller in person because I’m not very short myself and he makes me feel downright diminutive. “Who are you?”
He laughs. “I take it you don’t remember me.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Laylen.”
My expression falls and my eyes expand as I step down a couple of stairs, undecided if I should stay or flee. Am I afraid of him? Or curious? “Laylen, as in the owner of this house?”
He lets his hand fall to his side. “Awe, I take it, you do remember me, at least, through what Alex has told you.” He says Alex’s name with such disdain that there has to be some bad history between them.
I feel bad because he clearly knows me and I can’t recall a single detail about him besides my dirty dreams, which never happened. Or have they? I’m beginning to wonder about my dreams and their insightfulness.
I decide I’m not afraid of him and step back up onto the stair above. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you. I just recognized the name because Alex and Aislin told me the owner of this house was named Laylen.”
He moves down so he’s on the step right in front of me and I have to kink my neck just to see his eyes. Up close, I note the sadness in them, deep pathways that show the scars conjoined with his heart. I want to hug him, which is strange because I’m not a hugger, but he looks so sad. “And they told you I’m a vampire.”
I nod. “They did.”
He waits. “And?”
“And…” I’m uncertain what he’s waiting for me to say so I stick out my hand cordially. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He snorts a laugh and it makes me laugh, too. It’s the most bizarre moment in a long sequence of bizarre moments because it’s normal. I don’t even know him, besides the fact that he has a very warm tongue and slightly cold skin, but those facts are solely based on my dreams.
Smiling, he shakes my hand and his skin is like frost on a window. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Gemma, or should I say, meet you again?”
“How do you know me?” I wonder. “Is it because of the Keeper connection?”
His shoulders lift as he shrugs. “Yes and no. We also knew each other when we were young, but it might have been too long ago for you to remember.”
I search my brain for a memory of a blond hair, blue-eyed boy, but there’s nothing except darkness. But that’s a common occurrence whenever I try to remember something from my early past. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I wish I did.” He seems doubtful. And miserable. It breaks my heart to see. There’s no way an evil vampire could carry so much misery in them. “And I mean that.”
We smile again and then he squeezes my hand. Why are we still holding hands? It’s odd, yet, I don’t pull away. I just continue to stand there and grasp onto his long fingers that feel like popsicles. It’s mind-boggling, but it makes sense to my body because I want to cling onto him in any way I can. I’m attracted to him. Obviously. I understand that much, but there is also something else; something stronger and compelling.
“You want to sit down and talk?” he asks, looking me in the eyes and I nod.
We release hands and take a seat on the steps next to each other. He leans against the railing and I recline back on my elbows, feeling a sense of comfort. The porch light radiates into the night and casts shadows across the stairs. We gaze at the desert, listening to the crickets chirp. I can make out the constellation of Cassiopeia up in the sky and a revelation hits me. Is that where my fascination with stars comes from? Maybe I subconsciously knew about the star inside me? Perhaps, I knew that a piece of me belongs up in the sky?
“So,” Laylen finally breaks the silence and there’s acrimony in his tone. “How’s life been with Marco and Sophia?”
“It’s been okay, I guess,” I mutter and fix my gaze on him. “By your tone, I’m guessing, you’re not a fan of them.”
He laughs as he stares up at the stars. “I’m not a fan of Keepers in general.”
I take in his profile; the slight crook in his nose and the firmness of his jawline. “How come?” I crack a smile. “Well, besides the obvious fact that they’re liars.”
“That they are,” he agrees, encountering my gaze. “I’m guessing Alex hasn’t told you my story.”
“Story?” A bug lands on my arm and I swat at it and then wipe my hand on my jeans.
“The one where I was kicked out of the Keepers circle because I was turned.”
“They kicked you out because you’re a vampire?” I’m astounded. “Why? You don’t seem evil?”
“Don’t I?” he questions with a penetrating look. “Because a lot of people sure think the opposite.”
“I don’t think so,” I disagree. “Alex even told me that you have your blood lust under control.” The word lust sounds funny leaving my mouth. He seems to think so too, because he can’t seem to take his eyes off my lips.
“Alex is just telling you that to impress you,” he says, sucking his lip ring into his mouth. “He doesn’t really believe it.”
“I doubt that,” I say, but it sounds like a lie. “You don’t like Alex because he’s a Keeper?”
“It’s the other way around,” he answers. “Alex doesn’t like me because of what I am and I choose to return the feeling.”
I bite my lip and drum my fingers on my knee. “Yeah, Alex seems like he can be…”
“An asshole,” Laylen says and grins when I look at him, but it’s a plastic smile. A façade to cover up his real feelings.
“I was going to use the term douche bag,” I clarify. “But yeah, asshole works too… Why is he like that? He told me it was because he was moody.”
Laylen shakes his head disagreeing. “It’s because of his father.”
“Stephan?”
“Yeah, he’s put it in Alex’s head since we were kids that you have to be unattached and unemotional in order to be a good Keeper,” he says and then mutters, “Like he would even know himself.”
“You don’t like Stephan?” I ask. “Isn’t he a Keeper?”
He shrugs. “Being a Keeper doesn’t mean anything, Gemma, regardless of what Alex tells you. You’ll be able to determine for yourself what you think of Stephan when you meet him, but I’m guessing you won’t like him. Most people don’t.” He leans back on his elbow. “And just because Keepers claim to protect the world, doesn’t mean that they’re good people.”