Shattered Promises 02 - Fractured Souls (9 page)

I tap my finger against my chin, bitterness seeping into my voice. “Hmm… I bet I can guess. How about break my soul, my heart, my memories—my whole freaking life—and also ruin everyone whoever mattered to me.”

His lips part in shock. “I don’t…” he trails off, shaking his head.

I push to my feet. “Besides, that’s not even what you’re mad about. You’re pissed off because Laylen drank my blood and now I’m going to be addicted to getting my blood drunk.” I back toward the door, shaking with rage, but I’m not quite sure where it stems from. “Well, you know what. It was worth it because I know my mom’s still alive and that’s all that matters to me.”

He rises from the couch, and I turn to run. I think about running out the front door, running away from this mess—my feelings—because there’s too many of them inside me. I feel so much right now, I swear I’m going to explode.

The problem is that my emotions are strongly linked to people in this house and it makes running away impossible, so I do the only thing that I can. I race upstairs, lock myself in my room, and cry as confusion takes over my heart.

Chapter 7

Alex takes my hands in his. “Tell me you want me.”

We’re standing in front of the lake, the moon reflecting in the dark, still water. The chilled wind smells mossy and the water softly lulls. “Tell me I’m the only one you love.”

“I don’t even know what love is,” I reply, staring out at the water.

He frees one of my hands, fixes a finger under my chin, and angles my face toward him. “Tell me you love me, please,” he begs.

I open my mouth to speak, but then someone walks up behind me and I turn around, briefly breaking Alex and mine’s connection.

Laylen hikes up the shore toward us, bare foot and shirtless. “Gemma, I need you,” he says as he reaches us. “Please, come with me.”

He holds out his hand and I want to take it, but I also don’t want to let go of Alex’s hand. With my free hand I reach for him, but Alex tightens his hold on my other hand and pulls me away

“No, please don’t,” he pleads. “I need you.”

I glance back and forth between them as Laylen slips his fingers through mine. I hold onto both of them, knowing I’m going to have to choose, knowing that I can’t have both—that I don’t have the right to.

***

I stay in my room for two days. I don’t shower. I barely move, only getting out of bed to stare out the window and watch the city move through the time. Adessa brings me food, which I barely eat. Other than that, no one else comes to see me, although I sense both Alex and Laylen walk by a few times. The strange connection I have with them thrives the second they get close, but neither ever enters. It’s like I’m back to the old Gemma, the lonely, isolated one, and for the moment it’s what I need because I don’t know how to deal with everything inside me.

I watch the sun rise and set. The more time goes by, the calmer I get and I wonder if I should just stay in bed forever. Eventually, though, I start to stink and the grossness of the dried blood coating my clothes and skin gets to me.

As the sun descends behind the hills, marking the second day to pass since Laylen bit me, I climb out of bed. The lights of Vegas vibrantly sparkle through the window, lighting up the room, but it’s still dark enough that it’s hard to see so I flip the light on. I take a thin-strapped, black shirt from the dresser along with a cream and black striped skirt, and then I make my way out into the quiet hallway.

I’m not sure which door belongs to the bathroom, but I luck out and it’s the first one I open. I peel off my clothes, wincing at my stiff muscles, then turn on the water. As I wait for it to heat up, I look at my reflection.

My violet eyes are bloodshot and, even though the holes in my neck have began to heal, there’s dried blood all over it. My shirt is torn, exposing more of my breast than I’m comfortable with and my brown hair is tangled around my face. The only thing that is somewhat comforting is that the scratches on my neck, from where Laylen’s fangs scrapped me, are almost invisible. Still, I look hideous. It’s a simple as that.

I climb into the shower and scrub the blood off my body with a loofa. I scrub so hard my skin hurts. I scrub and scrub, the water beneath my feet tinting red as it whirls down the drain. I want to scrub everything off my body, including how I feel. Because, through my erratic, perplexed, emotions, I feel dirty and wrong and I want to feel right again, or as right as I’ve ever felt anyway. What I want is to feel the void inside my body shrinking. I want someone to comfort me, hold me, and hug me. God, when did I get so needy? I never needed anyone before, although I also never felt so bruised and emotionally torn up, either.

Hot tears spill out of my eyes as I rinse my face off and then sink down into the tub. I hug my legs against my chest, letting the showerhead pour water on me, wishing it had the power to erase my misery—erase me.

I sob into my knees, my body shaking and shivering as I try to sift through the last couple of days. I let Laylen bite me merely so I could get something I wanted. I hurt Laylen and Aislin and pissed off Alex by doing it. Am I that bad of a person? Completely greedy and selfish. Who am I? I don’t know.

My head suddenly shoots up when I hear the bathroom door open. I tense as a shadow forms on the other side of the shower curtain.

“Gemma,” Alex says.

I try to shut off my tears, but tears never want to seem to turn off when you want them to, so instead I work to maintain a balanced voice. “Yes.”

He hesitates and I can see his shadow moving, his hand rising in front of him. “Are you okay?”

My lips quiver. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He pauses. “Okay.”

I let out an exhale, glad he can’t see me, see what I mess I am. I allow the tears to fall freely as his shadow shrinks as he moves away. However, then the entire bathtub suddenly darkens, his shadow expanding over me when he draws back the curtain.

He grips onto the edge of the curtain, staring down at me naked in the tub, hugging my knees. There are droplets of water on my face and tears pooling in my eyes and my hair drips in tangles down my back.

“You don’t look okay,” he says, keeping his eyes on mine. “You’ve been in your room for over two days. Aislin said you probably needed space—that it would take a few days for the…” He shuts his eyes, gathering himself before opening them. “For the sensations of the bite to wear off. That’s how it was for her.” His gaze sweeps over my face. “But now I’m wondering if she was wrong.”

I don’t know how to respond. I did need time; I chose to stay in the room, but while isolation might have been a good thing for Aislin, I don’t think it was that great for me. I’ve had too much of it during my life.

I want to tell him this, but when I open my lips all that comes out is a quiet sob. “I’m sorry.” I’m not even sure what I’m sorry for, but it feels like it needs to be said so I go with it.

“Gemma…” He reaches for the faucet and shuts the water off. Then he leans back and slips his hands into mine, helping me to my feet. I bite my lip as I stand naked in the bathtub before him, feeling self-conscious. “You don’t need to be sorry.” He tucks strands of my wet hair behind my ear. “I get why you did it.”

I’m a little shocked. “You do?”

He nods, smoothing my hair out of my eyes. “I just wish you would have found a different way—an easier way. Yet, I understand how it feels… to want to see your mom again.”

The way he says it, makes me wonder. “Do you not know your mom?”

He presses his lips together, releases me, and then takes a step toward the towel rack. “My mom disappeared when I was younger.” He grabs a towel off the rack and turns back to me

I can suddenly feel it; the sparks and the elated electricity reuniting wholly with my body. It’s wonderful and heartbreaking, welcome and, yet, unwanted. “What happened to her?”

He grips the towel in his hand. “I have no idea.” He lets the towel fall open. “How about we talk about what we’re going to do about your mom?”

I wrap my arms around my body as the cold air gets to my dewed skin. “Why? Are you going to help me?”

“Lift your arms up,” he instructs and I hesitantly obey. “I was thinking about it, but only if we do it smartly.” He wraps the towel around my back and then drags it across my sides, wiping away the water.

“Why, though?” I wonder, fighting my eyes to stay open as he moves the towel along my ribs, my hips, my stomach, and back, drying off my body. “Why would you all of a sudden help me? You’re acting very strange right now. Too nice.”

“I’ve always been helping you, Gemma. It just might not always seem like it, especially when your emotions get in the way.” He pulls on the towel, moving to the front of me, and begins to wipe off my neck. “And I’m trying to be nice because you deserve nice.”

I swallow hard as his hand holding the towel wanders toward my breast. “Your emotions get in the way sometimes, too. You can be so hot and cold.”

He stares at my chest as he begins to dry it off. My nipples harden and a gasp escapes my lips, even though I fight it. “I can’t help it,” he says softly, moving his gaze and hands away from my chest. He wraps the towel around my body and secures it in a knot at the top. Then he moves back and holds his hand out. “It’s how I’ve been taught to be… detached.” He stops as I set my hand in his then he helps me out of the tub. “I can’t help it and I don’t want to help it. Besides, I’m beginning to believe that everything I was taught is bullshit.”

He’s being so cooperative and the surprising thing is that he seems genuinely nice at the moment. “I want to believe you,” I say. “But it’s hard to after everything that’s happened.”

“I know,” he says simply and then he winks at me even though he looks sad. “Give me time, though, and I’ll change your mind.”

“We’re always arguing, though,” I point out.

He winks again and this time a smile shows through. “Don’t pretend like you don’t like it—that it doesn’t get you all turned on.”

I don’t say anything because he’s partially right. We stare at each other for a moment and I can hear us both breathing erratically. Taking a step forward, he carefully backs me into the sink and sweeps a lock of my hair away from my face. When his gaze meets mine, my body nearly melts as electricity spirals through it. I decide that, despite whatever I said, I did miss it. A lot.

He leans in toward me, tracing my jawline with his fingers. “You bring it out of me, you know. Before you, I could completely control everything I feel, but you… you drive me crazy.”

“You drive me crazy, too,” I agree, my voice a lot less steady than his. “You make me so frustrated… and I don’t know if I should, or if I even can, trust you.”

I wait for him to get angry, but he seems to be very distracted by my neck, his gaze is glued to it as he sketches his finger back and forth across the healing teeth marks.

“Did it hurt?” he asks, pressing down on the marks.

I wince, but only because the contact of his skin makes my body flame hot. “Not really.”

His eyes glide up to mine. “Did it feel… good?”

“Honestly?” I ask and he nods. My breath falters. “It felt good, bad, and… confusing.”

His hands glide up the front of my neck, his skin agonizingly hot as it stops at the top. “Did you do anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I know, but I don’t want to tell you.”

He pauses and I feel his hand tremor. “I
need
to know. It’ll drive me crazy if I don’t.”

I swallow hard. “We kissed.”

His grip tightens on my neck, not enough to choke me, but enough that it’s intense. “Just kiss?” he asks and I nod.

He loosens his grip slightly, pressing his thumb against my pulse. “Does this feel good?” he asks in a husky voice. “When I touch you?”

I shake my head as hot tingles coil up my legs. “I don’t know.”

His other hand touches my knee and then slips up the front of my towel, his fingers delving into my upper thigh. “How about this?”

Unbearable heat spreads up my leg and causes me to tremble irrepressibly. “Maybe…” I fight to tell him the truth; that he gets to me in ways I can barely grasp. That no matter what happens, if he wants me, then he’ll eventually get me because battling my emotions and the sparks will break me down in the long run.

I unintentionally gasp as his breath catches, and then his hand inches higher. I lean back against the mirror. “Alex… what are you ….”

I drift off as his fingers touch between my legs without slipping into me, merely resting just outside. I bite down on my lip as every single one of my nerve endings blaze with fiery heat and every thought inside my head dissipates

“I can’t take this anymore,” he says in a breathy whisper as he leans in closer, his eyes glossed over. “I want to be angry with you, but I can’t stop thinking about how I need to make you mine again and how I really don’t deserve you for everything I’ve done to you—all the lies I’ve told.” His lips hover above my mouth as his chest lines up with mine, burning me with ecstasy and driving me crazy. I grip onto the countertops, struggling to cling onto reality.

“How do you think I feel?”
I groan. Hold on, Gemma. Don’t let go. You need a clear head… clear…
“I never know what you’re thinking… what you want… what’s the truth… what’s right and what’s…” I drift off as his fingers slip inside me. My body bows into him and the towel slips loose before falling to my waist, my bare chest pressing against him.

His fingers start to gently move inside me. “Just trust me okay?”

I shake my head because I don’t entirely trust him or myself and what I’m feeling, but I don’t argue because I can’t. I want him to keep doing what he’s doing, feeling me, touching me, diminishing the void inside me. Giving me the human connection that I crave.

His fingers keep working as I struggle to breathe. I clutch so tightly onto the counter that the edge stabs into my palms. Finally I let go and grab onto his shoulders at the same time his hands slide around my back. He pushes on it, forcing me to move closer to him.