Shattered Promises

Page 31

Giving one last glance at Alex, I let my eyes close. Images of water and the woman drowning instantly overpower my head, but they fade as tranquility flows down my body. It’s like I’m being kissed all over and those kisses erase every single place the vision has taken in my soul. I’m being healed, sewn back together again. My emotions belong to me.
“Let your heart settle,” Laylen whispers. “And your body relax.”
I give into his instructions and my knees start to buckle. His hand winds around my back and he braces me against his chest. I feel his lips brush my hair and then he says, “Take her to the car.”
I don’t know who he’s talking to, but, seconds later, an arm slides behind me and I’m being scooped up into someone’s arm and a current drowns me. I relax against his sturdy chest and let him take me wherever. I’m calm. I’m all right.
I hear the bell go off as we exit the store, and then cool night air hits me. The car door squeaks open and he stops moving, leans forward and sets me gently onto the backseat. The leather is cool against my skin and I roll to my side, ready to go to sleep.
The seat sinks next to my feet and the door slams shut. I know he’s in the car with me, but he remains silent. “Are you going to be okay?” he finally asks.
I open my eyes, even though I don’t want to. I haven’t slept in ages and I want to sleep. “I think so.”
His gaze is consuming, even in the dark. “Can I… Can I ask you what you saw? In the vision?”
Sighing, I push myself up and put my feet on the floor. There’s a gap between us and I don’t try to reduce it. I give him a recap of every detail I can remember from the vision and Laylen’s magical touch keeps me at peace through the entire journey.
“You know you were really lucky, right?” Alex mutters when I finish.
I’m perplexed. “Lucky how?”
He props his boot up on his knee and stares ahead at the street. “For one thing, I’ve heard stories about people getting stuck inside visions and never returning; and, for another, because you didn’t get captured by the Water Faerie.”
“Water Faerie?” My dress is crooked and I raise my hips to realign it back into place. “Okay, that needs explaining.”
He glances at my hips as I lower my ass back to the seat. “It’s what pulled you and the woman down in the lake. Water Fey are the Guardians of the Underworld.”
“The Underworld?” I ask. “As in, the place where the Greeks believed people went after they died?”
“Close.” He seems hesitant to embellish. “But it’s not exactly the same.” He takes a deep breath and keeps his eyes ahead. “The Underworld is the land of the dead. It’s also a prison. After the Keepers capture someone like, say for instance, a vampire that has been on a killing spree, we sentence them to a life in the Underworld as a punishment.”
I question why he uses a vampire as his example, perhaps as a jab at Laylen. “But why wouldn’t you just kill them instead? It makes more sense that way and it seems like a far worse punishment.”
He shakes his head. “Trust me. Death is an easier punishment than getting sent down there. Most go insane from the torture within a few weeks.”
“Wait a minute.” I pause, drinking in the knowledge he gives me and I connect it with what I know. “Does that mean the woman I saw get dragged into the lake is going to end up in the Underworld?”
“Maybe,” he answers with unwillingness. “The Water Faeries usually don’t kill the people. They are under strict orders to take whatever they catch straight to the prison.”
“But, why do they want prisoners?”
“Because they feed off the prisoners’ fear. It’s what keeps them thriving, even in their dead form.”
I hug my arms around myself. Nausea is starting to mix with the tranquility Laylen put in me. “So, if the vision I saw really ends up happening, then the woman’s going to end up being tortured down in the Underworld.”
“Maybe.” He sighs, and then moves his foot off his knee and to the floor. “I’d like to believe the future can be changed, especially since we’re trying to do that with the star and the portal.”
“What if it doesn’t change?” I whisper. “Then what?”
“Depending on how strong she is, she could survive the torture for up to a few years without it driving her mad. But once she loses her mind, the Queen will have her killed.”
“What Queen?”
“The Queen of the Dead. She’s in charge of everything that goes on in the Underworld. After a prisoner goes insane, they no longer produce the right kind of fear for her people to feed off of, so she gets rid of them.”
I feel like banging my head on the window, but my body is too drained to move toward it. “That’s the most ruthless thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You have to understand that most of the creatures we send down there have committed horrible deeds,” he explains. “The kind of crimes that haunt people’s nightmares.”
“Well, considering the Death Walkers have killed me over and over again in my nightmares, I can understand that comparison,” I say.
His head gradually turns toward me, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead he looks over my shoulder at the window. “You never mentioned before that they killed you.”
I sit up straight and move my face into his line of vision, trying to get him to look at me. “I didn’t think I needed to give you the details.”
“I always want you to give me the details,” he says and closes his eyes. “Always.”
Why won’t he look at me? “You don’t think my nightmares are visions, do you?”
“No, that’s not even possible for a Foreseer to do.” He opens his eyes and continues to stare over my shoulder at the window. “They have to have the power of the crystal to channel the psychic energy. But Gemma, I’d really like you to give me the details of the nightmares you keep talking about.”
He’s acting strange, like it hurts him to look at me and be in the car with me. “Well, I want you to give me details, too. About you.”
He glances at my face, but then swiftly looks back at the window. “There’s not that much to know.”
I inch toward the edge of the seat and place myself in his line of vision. “I don’t believe that for one second and I have a great idea. You can start off by telling me why you won’t look me in the eye.”
He blinks several times and finally meets my eyes. “Because I don’t like the calm, sleepy look in your eyes.”
I rub my eyes with my fingertips. “I’m just really tired. I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours.”
“It’s not from tiredness.” He sighs. “It’s from Laylen. He put the look there and I don’t like it because you look content and you hardly ever look content.”
I drag my bottom lip into my mouth and press my knees together, avoiding his accusation. “Alex, I want to know something about you. Something real. Like maybe why you’re so hot and cold all the time? It confuses me.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that yet.”
“Then tell me something real.” I practically beg, because I need things to feel real at the moment, instead of feeling like I’m drowning in a sea of illusions.
He places his hand beside my leg, not touching me, but close. “The first time I saw you, I was scared.”
That isn’t what I expected. “You seemed pissed.”
“I was pissed, too.” He scoots forward and our knees brush. “But pissed at myself for feeling the way that I did—the way that I do.” His jaw tightens and then his hand moves to my hip. “I was taught not to feel that way.”
My muscles constrict beneath his touch and every ounce of the comfort Laylen put in me singes into ash. “To feel what way?”
His lip part, then he shuts his eyes tightly. “Out of control. Lost. Confused. Terrified. I’m not supposed to let those things get to me.” His eyes open and I suck in a breath at the rawness they emit. “You want to know something real about me, Gemma? I’m empty. Dead. Completely numb inside, except for when I’m around you. I’m hot and cold because I try to fight my feelings, because that’s what I’m supposed to do—that’s the right thing to do.”
I think about what he said earlier: what’s right and what he wants. “Do you want to feel those things though?”
“I want to feel a lot of things.” His fingers burrow into my hip and I shudder as heat caresses my skin. He bends his elbow and with one hand pulls me across the seat toward him. When I’m near enough, his free hand grabs my waist; he lifts me up and sits me down on his lap so I’m straddling him. My chest heaves erratically as he traces his finger up my cheekbone and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
His lips dip toward my neck. “Whenever I’m around you, I forget everything else.” He doesn’t explain if that’s good or bad, and I don’t get a chance to ask him because his teeth nip at my neck and I forget how to speak.
I bring my hands up to the back of his neck, then slide them up and tangle them into his hair. His mouth opens and his tongue rolls along my neck. I draw his face closer and lift my hips up and his mouth nears my collarbone. I’m completely ready to go back to the feeling I experienced on the bed in the cabin. I want him to explore me further. I want him to touch me all over, but he gives me a quick kiss and then pulls back. I’m about to object when he picks me up by the waist and I nearly smack my head on the ceiling of the car as he lays me down on the seat. Then he covers my body with his and kisses me hard, stealing my breath away.
When our bodies can’t take it any longer, he pulls away and looks down at me as we both pant. I can feel it, just like he said, the numbness in me when I’m not with him being filled and I need more. I move my hands up his muscular arms and the longer I touch him, the more I let go because I let my emotions own me. When I reach his back, I try to force him to me, but he shakes his head in protest.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes shadow over with a look that sends my body into a fit. He kneels up and grabs my arms roughly. I let him because I want to and that’s all that matters. In one quick motion, he pins my wrists together and restrains them above my head. Then he lowers himself back on me as his hand glides down my body. When he reaches the top of my dress, he jerks it down and my breasts spring free. Moments later, his mouth is devouring my nipple, licking it and biting it gently. There are too many emotions inside me; need, want, hunger, panic, fear, connection, serenity. It’s potent and amazing to the point of overwhelming.
I arch my back up as my nipples harden and then let my legs fall open. His hand immediately slides down my stomach to the bottom of my dress, then his mouth moves upward, his breath soft on my skin and his lips wet. His other hand keeps my arms pinned up above my head as his fingers slip up my inner thigh. I want to grab him, dig my nails into him and let it all out, but I’m helpless and can only cry out.