Glen bends over and hurls. And I am next if I don’t get out of this torture room.
“I THINK WE SHOULD leave,” I say. Glen goes for her third spew.
Nathan comes to my side. “I’d wrap my arm around you, but since you got everyone covered in blood, that’d just be nasty.” He’s drenched: hair, face, and clothes all tented with Top’s red juices. I chuckle, leaving the let out first.
Parting, I race up to Nathan’s bathroom, leaving him to use the one in the hall. On my third soap up, I’m still not clean enough. I still smell the revolting stench from the let out, still feel Top’s juices dripping from my hair, and I’m sticky. Conditioning my hair and covering my body in soap again, I call it quits when I rinse. My discomfort isn’t leaving.
After dressing, I lay across Nathan’s bed, listening to him shuffle around in the closet. Moments ago flash through my mind, and I fight back the grimace.
Half dressed; Nathan comes out of the closet and sits in front of me. Water skis down his back and gets soaked in the cloth of his shorts hugging his waist. I snatch the towel he’s roughly rubbing over his hair and dry his back. It was hard watching the droplets of water cascade down his skin at different speeds, calling me to catch one, just one on my lips. Maybe my tongue.
“Nate?”
He looks over his shoulder. His eyes find mine and their intensity lightens. “Sup?”
“What makes your blood black and others red?”
He looks at his hands, scratching the knuckles on his left. “My blood’s tainted. Polluted with undesirable qualities. My demon.” He takes my hand from his shoulder and pulls me to his front. “Like letting one drop of black die fall into a glass of water.”
“I get it, but how? Were you all just designed this way, to have different races, like humans?” I ask, sitting up.
“I’m not positive on the how. But from what I’ve been told. . .” He pulls me to lie across his lap. And I almost object when he turns my head away from him and still hasn’t finished his sentence, but I feel his fingers brush through the back of my hair and I love it when he does this. I sink into his comfort, and he continues, “Let’s say, eons ago, a female Sephlem was seduced by a demon. They had children, which put the demon in the bloodline. And now it’s like a hit or miss where some families are cursed with the bearing of a Burdened child or children and others aren’t.”
“Cursed?” I don’t like the word.
“No one wants to have a Burdened child. But most accept their children for what they are. Like my mother.”
“Were you not a regular child?”
“I never heard the stories, but watching Rose grow, it was hard. She threw the worst temper tantrums. I mean, we don’t start getting our abilities until later, so our families aren’t at risk of being blown up or harmed. But that doesn’t mean they won’t try to fight you or scream louder than a tornado siren. On top of that, you have people trying to kill your child before they walk or can talk. It’s hard on the parents. Most die protecting their child and others try to kill their child.”
I face him. “What if you had Burdened children?”
“I’m fighting for my kids. You’ll be taking a step down on the podium, Sparks.”
I chuckle. “Right.” Sighing, I sit up. “This is a crazy life you have here.”
“It is,” he says, tipping his chin. “Honestly, I’m sorry I brought you into it. But I am jubilant you chose me. And are still here even after everything you’ve seen and things we’ve been through.”
“Jubilant, huh?”
He chuckles. “Yeah.”
“Of course I’d still be with you despite what’s happened. Where am I going to go?”
He shrugs. “Jump off a mountain and kill us.”
What?! “People do that?” I ask, high pitched and surprised.
He nods. “Among other things, they’ll try to kill their mate. Mating is forced, though fate has one plan, the person may have another. Free will. Like I told you when we talked, life with me isn’t the type of life every girl dreams about. You gotta be strong to deal with some of this shit. This life isn’t for everybody. I worry about Glen and Scott because of that.”
“How do you mean?”
His brows rise and eyes squint. “You are full of questions.”
I am, but he keeps saying interesting stuff. “Sorry. This is the last one.”
His shoulders slump. “She’s not strong enough. There should’ve been no reason those coming for you should have vacillated and gone for her. No offense, but Scott has no control over her and hasn’t provided her with a clear understanding of what we’re dealing with. And with not only their mating being forced, but their bonding, and Glen’s not entirely accepting of either yet. . .” He shrugs, aborting.
I wince. “You think if this begins to be too much for Glen, she’ll decide she can’t take it and will kill herself, which will kill Scott?”
“I thought that was the last question?”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to answer a question with a question?”
He snatches his towel from the floor and takes to his hair. “It’s a possibility. But Scott may have left that part out, not providing her with a choice to be with him or not.”
“And she’s stuck with him forever because of it. Because of how he did her in the beginning?”
“Exactly. Never being offered the choice to make your own decision can be a hindrance on someone’s life. Although your mate makes you happy and you always want to be with them, that’s mostly just the bond. It’s not your internal feelings. It has to be equal. You and the bond should agree on what you want, which is why we—the male—should offer the female the choice to be with us after they hear the truth; if they’re not already Sephlem or any other type of creature that walks the earth. But especially if they’re human.”
“But didn’t you trick me into choosing you?”
He smiles, and I return it. “Only slightly. But I knew you wanted me from the day you were practicing for exorcist training in the nurse’s office.”
I laugh aloud. “I was not. And no I didn’t want you.”
“You didn’t?” he questions humorously.
I cross my arms and straighten my spine. “No.”
Nathan steps to me, large frame having the capability to swallow my small body. He leans forward, and I fall back on the bed. “You sure about that, because I distinctively remember you wanting me. Especially wanting to nibble—Was it?—On my bottom lip. And push your fingers through my soft hair.”
I smile, cheeks burning red. “You are so embarrassing, Nathan.” I push him, and he moves from above me. “You’ve been in my head since day one.”
“Absolutely. Every second.” He kisses my chin. “Come on. Let’s help clean up for later.”
I have a million more questions but decide I’ll wait to ask them. Time’s rounding two in the afternoon, and everyone wants to make sure the house is presentable for my parents, considering its condition.
Nathan throws on a shirt, and we leave to help.
Originally, I was concerned about my parents coming over considering all that’s been happening over the past few months. Roehl seeing them and maybe following them, then using them as a ploy to get me. Or them getting mixed up in Olar’s crap of which I still don’t know the full detail. But Natalia assured me we’d be safe. Her favorite line, with all of these Burdeneds in this house, no one’s coming in here uninvited. It was enough, but I’m still a bit uneasy.
Natalia also sat me down to explain the attack on my heart Nathan and I experienced last night. My heart’s now encased by a guardianic shield—Sephlem term I knew nothing about. This is what changed its beat. It does nothing in protection for me, but for the male Sephlem, it gives him an extra sense over their mate. As if he weren’t already fully aware of every (yes, every) aspect and feature of my body, let’s add a guardianic shield. It also allows mates to age together, which I think is kind of cool. It makes up for the pointlessness of this shield. I don’t g
et the privilege to adjust the way I look, making myself blend in with the people I grew up around. But I will be able to live with my mate instead of me dying from old age years before he would. Mom may get kind of irked when she gets older and I still look young. But, hey, nothing we can do about that now.
We enter Glen and Scott’s room where some construction workers plaster the broken and cracked walls. The house is filled with construction workers. They’re comfortable and cheerfully greet everyone they see as if this isn’t their first time here.
“What’s up, Nate. You added a new addition to the family?” A coltish construction worker climbs down from a ladder and comes over to us.
“Hey, Fred.” He and Nathan bump fists. “Yeah. This is my girlfriend, Tracey.”
“What’s up, Tracey?”
I look to Nathan, making sure it’s okay to speak to Fred. Nathan nods, granting me his permission. Smiling, I greet, “Hi.”
“You two look happy,” Fred says, sketchy-like. Shaking away the curiosity that stuck in his squinted eyes, he shrugs.
“We are.” Nathan looks around the room. “You seem about finished in here.”
“Yeah, just about.” Fred’s glance sweeps over the room. “Just a couple of more holes to fill, then we paint. Maybe about forty-five more minutes, then on to the room downstairs.” He steps back, smiling. “You Newcombs sure know how to throw a party.”
Nathan makes a deep, throaty chuckle. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He nods for us to head out. “Alright, Fred, we’ll see you around.”
“Alright, Nate. Bye, Tracey. Nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” I reply. I wait for us to make it in the hall to say, “You know, Nate, this permission stuff is killing me.”
“It’s only because you don’t know how to control it, and you don’t trust people you don’t know.”
And I don’t. If I speak to the wrong person and they’re. . . I don’t know what makes some Sephlems attracted to you and others not, but because of my uncertainty; I know I get a little uneasy. But I’d like to decide on my own. “Well, how do I control it? Because it’s embarrassing and degrading.”
“For now, the best way would be to read me and my actions. For most people, my type of people, I’ll let you know not to speak.”
“How am I supposed to read your actions? You’re the hardest person to read who ever walked the earth. You can be angry with the happiest face.”
He nods. “I’ve heard that.”
“So, reading your actions is out of the question. Maybe if you would let me get into your thick skull, it’d be easier.”
“No.”
“Why not? You let me do it while we are . . . you know.”
“Fu—”
“Don’t say it.”
He laughs. “I told you, Sparks. If you get into my head, you’ll only see you. Like when you’ve snuck in there before. Every inch is filled with you. Plus, I don’t think, I just act. I can’t have what’s going on in my head and your thoughts in my head at the same time.” He shrugs. “If that makes any sense.”
“Then let me take on your thoughts while you take on mine.”
“No. Because then I’ll still be thinking about my thoughts in your thoughts.”
He lost me. “Fine.” Scott had said something about Glen demanding him to her. I’ll try that. “Nathan,” I bark. He halts. Good sign! “You better let me in your head,” I demand and point my finger.
Nathan slowly turns on his heels, fixing me with intense eyes and a single hitched brow. With a forced smirk he replies, “Do not say my name like that anymore.”
Dang, didn’t work. I shrug. “It was worth a try.”
He cracks up, laughing loudly. “I love you, Sparks.” He waves for us to continue down the stairs. “But seriously, don’t say my name like that. I don’t like what it did to me.”
“The Nathan part I got right. Just the rest of my sentence was inadequate?”
“That wouldn’t have worked either way.” He quickly shuts me down. “But different ways you say my name affect me.”
I follow him to our left, heading toward the great room. “How so?”
“Hmm.” He thinks. “Like when you moan my name.” He rubs the back of his neck, smirking. “That makes me want to lose control, and in a bad, good way. Best shit I’ve ever heard.”
I bite my lip, fighting my blush. “O-Kay.”
“When you’re afraid, and you say my name, it puts up a protective barrier, and I have to calm myself not to go demon and kill whatever scared you. Unless they need to be killed.” He’s gotten more comfortable talking about killing.
I guess he’s used to it and knows I won’t change with him being himself around me. “I can see that.”
“When you’re happy and you say my name, it makes me happy. But that, what you did just there, made me alert, immobile, like you were about to do something to me. I even blocked myself from you.” He drapes his arm over my shoulder.
“I’m not getting that, but at least I’ll know how to get your attention,” I tell him, pushing open the doors to the great room.
“You always have my attention.”
The wall-sized window, overlooking the beach, welcomes in large beams of sunlight. It brightens the flawless room. The great room looks as if it hadn’t been touched. Every accent piece, couch, chair, and wall is in their place. The wood paneled walls shine from the fresh varnishing reflecting the sun. It darkens the yellow to a satin orange, casting a hazy-like glow over the room. To my far left, near the entertainment side of the great room is a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that’d been shredded but is now brand new. The sulky feeling that stuck in this room is gone, and I spin on my toes, with my arms out at my sides, taking in the rejuvenating feeling it now gives off. Its air smells of sweet strawberries that remind me of Pailen. Not one sign of Natalia’s tantrum that took the room by tornado, hurricane, and earthquake. She had pieces of wood sticking out of books and the couches. Glass was shattered, and the couches were flipped and shredded. She was hurt and angry. And I think a lot of it came from losing Papa Nathan, her daughter, and dealing with Taylor and Nathan. Initially, I thought Nathan got his fury and escalated tantrums from his father. But, I was way wrong. Natalia is totally the bearer of that egg.
I’m sure we will meet in this room, have dinner in the dining room, and then the majority of the family will either go their ways or come back in here.
“What are you thinking, Sparky?” Nathan nods, admiring the perfection of the room.
“This meet and greet. You should know.” I pause. “You want to know something?”
He laughs. “What?”
“You’re a relationship cheater.” I wiggle out of his arms he pushes around my waist. “You’re the biggest douchebag on the planet, but adjust yourself to be perfect for me. Being in my head gives you an upper hand, and I have a feeling you use it to your advantage.”
He pulls his eyebrows together, causing two lines to form in their middle. “What makes me a douchebag?”
“I see you, Nathan. How Scott talked about you, the sinister way you treat people, tricking them and messing with their heads, the way you treated girls. You never delete your text messages by the way. I’m surprised these chicks haven’t keyed your car!”
“I’ve only bagged one crazy girl, and had I known she was nuts, I never would’ve touched her,” he breaks in to say.
“Anyway,” I sing. “Then how you talk to your guy friends with the explicit vulgarities you use. You’re an entirely different person than the man you give me.” I poke his chest and walk away.
He crooks a finger in my jean pocket and yanks me back to him. His arm hooks around my neck from behind me, and his lips move against my ear as he whispers, “Do I speak to you that way? Am I a douchebag to you? Have I bagged you and bumped you?”
“No.”
“Then that’s all you should be concerned with. Who cares how I treated those girls? They weren’t you, they were just around to en
tertain me, gave me something to do. And Scott’s no better than I am. Believe me. I’ll talk the way I want to speak, as long as I don’t disrespect you when I speak. I treat people like that because I don’t want them to know me or try to figure me out.” He spins me around to face him. “It’s like playing poker. You have a good hand, and you look excited, everyone will fold, and you get a small pot. But if they can’t see a tells on your face, they let their guard down, assuming they have the better hand.” He makes his brows jump in a get it gesture.
“Eh.” I utter, watching his lips as he continues.
“And by the way, you get the better half of me. Soft Nathan, caring Nathan, loving Nathan. Everyone else gets the ruthless me. So no, I’m not a cheater, and yes, I do know what you want, and maybe it does give me an upper hand in satisfying you. But that’s the way it’s supposed to be. The man is supposed to know his woman. If I didn’t, there’d be a problem.”
“Probably. But keep talking.” His melodious voice’s a solace to the havoc imposed on me. I can’t make out the words, just hear him speak and watch his tongue move behind his teeth and his lips shape around every word. I lick my lips, calming the sudden urge to go in for a taste. I keep expecting there to be some kind of in between with my need for him. For me to find some balance between the bond and rationality. But, there isn’t, there’s only I can take it, or give me every ounce of you right-freaking-now. His familiarity makes it worse, knowing what he tastes like and how it will lift me off this rock and send me soaring through the stars. Argh, he’s just so damn addicting, and a small taste only exacerbates the craving. Crap! I hate it and love it.
Nathan continues gabbing, and whatever it is he’s saying falls short of my eardrums. He’s into it, though, accommodating his lyrics with altering facial expressions. Hazel eyes shift, never resting on anything as his brows, knit, hitch, furrow, or relax. The always-constant brown in them slowly circles clockwise and counterclockwise around his black pupils relaying, at this moment, he is content. At some point, probably when he was in the bathroom this morning, he shaved, trimming the hairs on his chin, cheeks, and upper lip. It’s a clean cut, eliminating the scruff. I rub it, adoring the hairs tickling my fingertips. I push my hand further back, letting it dive into a sea of soft silkiness. He’s let it grow out an inch where before, it was tapered.
Three Times Torn Page 15
