The Essence
Page 75
“It is good. Strange, but good.”
“Why strange?” Brook wondered, giving Aron a skeptical look.
He shrugged, glancing at her. “I don’t know. I kind of liked it when we were out on the Scablands.”
“Really? What part did you kind of like? The part where we were freezing? Or practically starving? Or was it that we didn’t know where Charlie was?” She shook her head, brushing her hands on the hem of her pants. “Oh, wait, I know, it was the part where there was a killer in our midst. That was kind of thrilling, wasn’t it?”
He chuckled. “You say the weirdest things, Brook.”
She laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Me? You’re the one with the deranged sense of a good time.”
She was about to get up when he stopped her.
And all it took was a sentence. “I meant because we were together,” he stated, his voice quiet but steady.
Brook froze. Goose bumps dusted her skin. What was
he saying? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Together?” she repeated, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, too afraid to face him head-on.
Her heart slammed against her chest as she waited for him to say something. Anything.
He didn’t. He touched her instead, brushing his fingertips across her cheek.
She did turn then, her eyes locked with his. She swallowed, if only to convince herself that she could. It was maybe the only thing she was capable of in that single, stationary moment. That, and breathing, which was harder now than it should have been.
She could see it in his eyes, the same thing she’d been feeling for days, maybe even weeks. Hunger, longing . . . conflict. She understood it all too well, and was as uncertain as he seemed to be.
His thumb moved, stroking the skin of her jaw and making her quiver. Unable to resist any longer, she closed her eyes and turned toward his hand, until his thumb reached her lips. She felt a million stars burst inside of her, glittering and spangled and white hot.
When his lips finally touched hers, she thought she might explode as she whimpered softly against the excruciating beauty of it. How could this be happening? She wondered. How could Aron be kissing me?
Yet she was kissing him back. Her mouth opening slowly, achingly, as she silently begged for him to tell her what to do. She’d never been so inhibited and so frenzied at the same time.
She pulled away suddenly, before the kiss had even taken hold. “What are we doing? We can’t do this.” But she was lacing her fingers through his. Everything inside of her was conflicted.
“Brook, stop it. We can, and we are.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this too, because I’ve waited months for you to admit it.”
“Months?” Brook breathed. Had it really been that long? She shook her head.
Aron just nodded, a stupid grin on his face. “Yes, Brooklynn.” He ran the side of his finger from her neck to her chin, and tugged her face up to look at him. And then he said it again. “Yes.”
Before she could argue, he leaned down, letting his lips dispute her unspoken words, and showing her, in no uncertain terms, that she was wrong.
xix
My palms were sweating as I gripped the door handle and slipped inside my sister’s bedroom. She knew I was there—they both did, Angelina and Eden—but there were no sounds from either of them to greet me.
“Angelina,” I whispered into the silent bedroom.
The only answer was the slight rustling of blankets, but it was answer enough.
I crossed the space to Angelina’s bed, glancing up to see her watchful guard appraising me. I could feel the wariness coming off her in waves, and I frowned at her for making me feel like a stranger in my own sister’s bedroom.
Kneeling down, I leaned my elbows on the edge of her mattress, pretending I didn’t know she was trying to avoid me. “Angelina,” I said again, this time not bothering to whisper since we both knew she wasn’t asleep. I moved my hand toward hers, meaning to cup it, to beg forgiveness for whatever wrongdoing—real or imagined—she’d thought I committed. But she flinched from me, drawing not just her hand, but her entire body away from me.
If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn I saw her tremble.
My stomach twisted at the thought that I was responsible for making her feel this way. That I was the source of the disgust on her face.
“What is it? What did I do?”
I waited for an answer, each second my heart breaking just a little more.
And then I heard her, her voice so insubstantial it was barely a breath. “Not you . . .” she said, and I wondered if Eden could even hear her now. “Her.”
My eyes widened.
Angelina knew. Angelina who’d always had a sense of who could—and could not—be trusted, knew Sabara was too close to the surface.
I sighed then, understanding her fears, even if I couldn’t explain that she was mistaken, that Sabara couldn’t hurt us. Not now.
I got up on unsteady legs. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—ask for her help again; it was too much for such a little girl. Besides, I doubted it would matter anyway.
I’d made my decision regarding Sabara. I knew now that she couldn’t simply be healed away, and I’d resolved to keep her so she couldn’t harm anyone else.
That didn’t mean I didn’t have doubts, though. I’d given Sabara far too much control. So much control that I’d been incapable of stopping her from killing Queen Langdon using my own hand.
“Why strange?” Brook wondered, giving Aron a skeptical look.
He shrugged, glancing at her. “I don’t know. I kind of liked it when we were out on the Scablands.”
“Really? What part did you kind of like? The part where we were freezing? Or practically starving? Or was it that we didn’t know where Charlie was?” She shook her head, brushing her hands on the hem of her pants. “Oh, wait, I know, it was the part where there was a killer in our midst. That was kind of thrilling, wasn’t it?”
He chuckled. “You say the weirdest things, Brook.”
She laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Me? You’re the one with the deranged sense of a good time.”
She was about to get up when he stopped her.
And all it took was a sentence. “I meant because we were together,” he stated, his voice quiet but steady.
Brook froze. Goose bumps dusted her skin. What was
he saying? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Together?” she repeated, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, too afraid to face him head-on.
Her heart slammed against her chest as she waited for him to say something. Anything.
He didn’t. He touched her instead, brushing his fingertips across her cheek.
She did turn then, her eyes locked with his. She swallowed, if only to convince herself that she could. It was maybe the only thing she was capable of in that single, stationary moment. That, and breathing, which was harder now than it should have been.
She could see it in his eyes, the same thing she’d been feeling for days, maybe even weeks. Hunger, longing . . . conflict. She understood it all too well, and was as uncertain as he seemed to be.
His thumb moved, stroking the skin of her jaw and making her quiver. Unable to resist any longer, she closed her eyes and turned toward his hand, until his thumb reached her lips. She felt a million stars burst inside of her, glittering and spangled and white hot.
When his lips finally touched hers, she thought she might explode as she whimpered softly against the excruciating beauty of it. How could this be happening? She wondered. How could Aron be kissing me?
Yet she was kissing him back. Her mouth opening slowly, achingly, as she silently begged for him to tell her what to do. She’d never been so inhibited and so frenzied at the same time.
She pulled away suddenly, before the kiss had even taken hold. “What are we doing? We can’t do this.” But she was lacing her fingers through his. Everything inside of her was conflicted.
“Brook, stop it. We can, and we are.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this too, because I’ve waited months for you to admit it.”
“Months?” Brook breathed. Had it really been that long? She shook her head.
Aron just nodded, a stupid grin on his face. “Yes, Brooklynn.” He ran the side of his finger from her neck to her chin, and tugged her face up to look at him. And then he said it again. “Yes.”
Before she could argue, he leaned down, letting his lips dispute her unspoken words, and showing her, in no uncertain terms, that she was wrong.
xix
My palms were sweating as I gripped the door handle and slipped inside my sister’s bedroom. She knew I was there—they both did, Angelina and Eden—but there were no sounds from either of them to greet me.
“Angelina,” I whispered into the silent bedroom.
The only answer was the slight rustling of blankets, but it was answer enough.
I crossed the space to Angelina’s bed, glancing up to see her watchful guard appraising me. I could feel the wariness coming off her in waves, and I frowned at her for making me feel like a stranger in my own sister’s bedroom.
Kneeling down, I leaned my elbows on the edge of her mattress, pretending I didn’t know she was trying to avoid me. “Angelina,” I said again, this time not bothering to whisper since we both knew she wasn’t asleep. I moved my hand toward hers, meaning to cup it, to beg forgiveness for whatever wrongdoing—real or imagined—she’d thought I committed. But she flinched from me, drawing not just her hand, but her entire body away from me.
If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn I saw her tremble.
My stomach twisted at the thought that I was responsible for making her feel this way. That I was the source of the disgust on her face.
“What is it? What did I do?”
I waited for an answer, each second my heart breaking just a little more.
And then I heard her, her voice so insubstantial it was barely a breath. “Not you . . .” she said, and I wondered if Eden could even hear her now. “Her.”
My eyes widened.
Angelina knew. Angelina who’d always had a sense of who could—and could not—be trusted, knew Sabara was too close to the surface.
I sighed then, understanding her fears, even if I couldn’t explain that she was mistaken, that Sabara couldn’t hurt us. Not now.
I got up on unsteady legs. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—ask for her help again; it was too much for such a little girl. Besides, I doubted it would matter anyway.
I’d made my decision regarding Sabara. I knew now that she couldn’t simply be healed away, and I’d resolved to keep her so she couldn’t harm anyone else.
That didn’t mean I didn’t have doubts, though. I’d given Sabara far too much control. So much control that I’d been incapable of stopping her from killing Queen Langdon using my own hand.
