“Glen, you do realize how serious this is, right? Take your selfishness out of it and realize that she’s seventeen and in a horrible relationship. Forget about what they did to us! Who knows what Neil is going to do to her now after that? Or in the future? And she doesn’t see it. Instead of her asking for our help, she was begging me not to tell anyone. He’s a punk and an abusive asshole!”
“Jeesh, Cey. Sorry. I’m just saying.”
Don’t worry about it, Tracey. I’ll take care of it tonight. He won’t touch anyone else, Olar promises.
I lean my elbow on the door and look out the window. Death won’t teach him a lesson, Olar.
I have no intentions of killing him. Promise you’ll see him at school before graduation.
Taylor’s standing in the driveway with her travel bag thrown over her shoulder. She gets in, energy buzzing like bumble bees. “Hey, guys. How was school?”
“Don’t ask,” I say with an unintentional attitude. “Oh, hi,” I add.
“Okay. What happened?”
“We got into a fight,” Glen blurts.
“What?” Taylor snaps, glaring daggers at Olar. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Olar leans against the driver's side door, shaking his hair out. “Yeah, we did. We were attacked.”
“Nathan’s going to be pissed,” Taylor says, mimicking his words from earlier.
“Tell me about it. See you girls tomorrow,” he mutters, closing the door.
We ride to my house in silence, and I’m thankful for it. I need a bit of peace as I let my thoughts settle. Nathan can be hard to read. Sometimes he comes off okay and understanding when really, he’s not. Then, when he seems too comfortable after he receives some bad news, it usually means he’s pretty peeved.
Taylor parks by the curb, and we head into my house, greeting Mom on our passing. Glen shows Taylor to the family room, and I pull out the blow-up mattresses. Mom orders pizza, and the four of us sit around the family room, chatting about girl stuff and watching reality TV. Mom’s awesome, staying up with us until it gets late. Or as she would say, “It’s my bedtime, ladies. Have a goodnight.” She kisses my head and gets up from lying with me on my mattress.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Warren,” Glen says. “Have a good sleep,” Taylor adds.
“Night,” she calls, hitting the light on her way out.
I lay back, happy for the silence. Roehl’s been more than a distant thought over the last few hours. I wonder what he has going on, what he’s doing right now. Roehl. . . I call for him, turning onto my side.
Tracey. . . His voice fills the blank spaces of my mind. It makes me lightheaded. Luring me, he repeatedly calls out. I need to see him, to go to him.
“What?” I blurt aggressively, cutting Taylor off from saying Roehl’s name a third time. She and Glen have gone back and forth about him for ten minutes now.
The skin between Taylor’s brows pinch as she studies me. She repeats, “I told her I miss Justin. Why?” Her intrusive expression softens to one of concern. “Is everything okay?”
I look away from them as they cackle. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” At least, I think it is. It’s hard to keep a clear head with Roehl on every inch of it.
No sooner than we lay to sleep, Taylor’s going through Justin withdrawals, and she acts as if she needs a hit before she can rest. She calls him over, and they hang outside for a few hours doing the couple thing. They’re the worst, or I’m just jealous. When she comes back, she knocks out hard.
I fear sleeping. It’s been a while since I’ve had to fall asleep by myself, and I’m yearning for my own hit of Nathan, but the closest I can get to him is his scent on my sheets. Rushing upstairs, I lay face down on the pillow he lies on, and I inhale, filling my nose with the faint scent of him. I wrap my body in a bundle of covers, trying to copy his warmth, but this isn’t coming close to suppressing the longing I get from just knowing he’s gone.
My cell vibrates. I snag it from the floor. “Hi,” I answer coolly, but my heart’s pounding from the roll of excitement.
“Hey, Sparky. You asleep?”
I sigh from the relief his voice provides. “Not even.”
“Why?”
I turn onto my side and let the phone rest on my face. “Nothing.” I hold the truth, not wanting him to know I am hurting. He’d feel sorry and become distracted.
“How you holding up? You miss me?” he asks. A sigh sounds, seeming to relax him as if he might’ve sat or laid down.
“I’m holding up fine. Of course I do.”
“How was your day?”
Grumbling, I mutter, “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”
Nathan scoffs. “Tell me what happened.”
“Don’t be mad. Okay?”
“What happened?” he asks with a sigh in his voice, sounding as though he’s slouching in a chair.
It’s nerve racking; he’s quick to turn on his hard tone. “Say you won’t be mad.”
“I’ll determine that after you tell me.”
“Nathan,” I whine.
“Sparks,” he mocks annoyingly.
I grumble, pulling my comforter over my head. “We got into a fight today.”
“We who?” he questions with an edge to his voice. Even though he’s far from me, I can still feel his irritation.
“All of we.”
“Are you serious, Sparks?”
“Yeah. We were attacked after school after a small altercation during lunch.”
“Beginning to end.”
I tune him into my day, and though he doesn’t sound upset, I can never be too sure.
“Were you hurt?”
“Nothing serious. Glen took a bad punch from that guy Neil. Oh, I did get upset, and I can’t get the black marks to go away.”
“Did anyone see them?”
“No. I don’t think so. Olar hid them for me as soon as they showed up. And when I got home, I had to throw on a sweatshirt to hide them from Mom. My hair has been down to cover my ear so she won’t see.” I lift my right arm, looking over my dark vines curling around it with swoops and dives. Small leaves moderately dress the vines that swivel and slither up to my shoulder where they stop and then restarts on and around my right ear.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see if I can tap into you and help get them to go away. You’ll need to be calm, though. Olar will make sure that guy doesn’t abuse that girl or any other girl in his future. Don’t let it get you down.”
“I’m fine. It just bugs me Joy didn’t show the slightest acceptance to my warning. Nobody, man or woman, should go through life being abused.” I sigh, letting my anger wash away with my exhale. “How are you doing? Am I missed? You’re calling me over the phone.”
“Yes, you are. A lot. I know. I wanted to hear your voice in my ear and not in my mind. I’m kind of upset now that I know your day was shit. But . . .” It trails off and then he continues, “Things are crazy here. We’re in Svalbard, and the sun’s up all day and all night, and no one remembers how to behave. I think they’re suffering from a serious case of hypomania. At the snap of a finger, their moods shift and they alter into a different person. My uncle mated with this lady Mulen some years ago. He killed her last night. Her family’s mad and is now after our family. That’s more bullshit on top of why we had to come here.”
“That’s terrible,” I say.
“Tell me about it. But they’re forgetting we lost someone too. They blew up the house a few hours ago, and now we’re staying somewhere else. But don’t say anything about that to Glen. Scott doesn’t want her to know, said she’d worry too much.”
“Yeah, sounds like Glen. You okay?”
“Yeah, for now. Hold on.” Whatever it is happening out there doesn’t sound safe. But I like that he’s open to telling me these things now. There’s rustling and then, “Sparks?”
“Yes.”
“Get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. They’re calling me, something’s happening.”
“
Okay.”
“I love you. And no more fighting. The three of you’ll probably end up killing someone’s kid. I’ll talk to Olar.”
“Don’t be mad. And be safe. Come home tomorrow.”
“I wish I could, Sparks.”
“Love you.”
“Okay.”
I toss the phone back to the floor. Turning onto my stomach, I lay, and sleep eventually comes. An unpleasant two hours of rest. With my needing to get up for school soon, I sluggishly pull myself out of my bed and go back downstairs to not seem M.I.A. The second I finally fall asleep, Glen’s over me, instructing, “Get in the shower first.”
My eyes bug-out, taking her in. The left side of her face is swollen and bruised from where Neil punched her. “Wow, Tracey, you look bad. Make sure you put on some makeup today,” she relays, looking me over.
“You too, Glen,” I utter, heading to the bathroom, hoping I don’t look as bad as I feel.
To my disdain, I do. Puffy, red eyes signify my lack of sleep. Pink, flushed skin reveals I’m in desperate need of something I can’t obtain. “Ugh!” And man-brows I need to have tweezed immediately. I didn’t nearly look this bad yesterday.
I lean over the tub to cut on the shower, glimpsing my naked arm. Rushing to the mirror, I check out my mark-free ear. “Great!” I cheer. Even overseas, Nathan finds a way to be amazing. I wish he could do something about this hair though. It looks like I’ve been in a windstorm which seems out-of-place considering I wasn’t doing any moving around as I laid in my bed, treating my fingers like lighters.
The shower’s awakening, and I’m hoping that when I step out, I’ll look better than when I stepped in. Water from the sprayer sprinkles on top of my head, and I push down my miss for Nathan. It’s always here, though, I always miss him. And it’s so damn annoying to always need something, especially for it to be a guy. So damn cliché, I can’t live without you, I love you so. . . Pfft, bonding makes that single line authentic and undeniable that you can literally require a person in order to stay alive.
I feel Glen’s forged confidence before she knocks on the door. “Yes?” I grump.
“Come on, Cey. We’re going to be late.”
After yesterday, she and Olar shouldn’t even want to step foot into our school. Who knows what today will bring?
I rush through my shower, hurry to dress, and braid my wet hair into two braids. I won’t go out of my way to put on makeup; I’d need steady hands for that, and mine are trembling because of this stupid pain. But I will have Mom do something about these put a bag over my head eyebrows.
“Come on, Tracey!” Glen yells up the stairs.
Mom rips the final wax strip from my brow, and it feels like she’s waxed the skin off my face. “Ah. . .” I hiss.
“Beauty is pain, honey,” Mom so subtly reminds me.
Snatching my bag from the bathroom floor, I kiss her cheek and say, “Thanks. See you later.”
“Tracey! We still have to drop off Taylor, and we’re ten minutes behind.”
With dull eyes, I glare at Mom. “If she yells again, I’m going to tape her mouth shut.”
“You better hurry. Wouldn’t want to rip tape off Glen’s mouth next.” She grabs a towel from the rack, taking it to the tip of my dripping braids. “When you get home, you need to go straight to sleep. You look worn. No mascara to brighten these eyes? Or maybe a little concealer to soften your puffiness?” She grabs the tube of concealer from the counter. “I can do it quickly.”
“You’re just as bad as Glen, Mom. Bye,” I sing, leaving her bathroom.
Taylor speeds to her house, and it’s not because we’re running late, but because she’s trying to get to Justin. The harsh effects of the bonding aren’t just a human to Sephlem thing. By the looks of it, Taylor’s need for Justin is almost a replica of my anxiety from Nathan. “So, it doesn’t get easier anytime soon, huh?” I ask Taylor, watching her fingers anxiously tap the steering wheel.
She follows my gaze to her hands. Squeezing the wheel, she smiles. “Bonding?”
I clasp my shaking hands in my lap and nod.
“It’s not difficult. So, I can’t say it gets easier. It is, however, complicated. My body feeds off Justin. That may sound weird to you, but that’s the best way to describe it. And it’s not so much, on purpose, but that it just happens. When he’s around me, I fill up. And like a car running out of gas, when I’m away from him, I run low on fuel. And every so often, I need to make a pit stop. Because we’re a closely bound couple—because we spend so much of our time together than apart—fill ups are needed daily.”
“I feel like I need to make a pit stop every hour I’m away from Scott,” Glen mumbles.
“I wouldn’t say every hour,” I chime in. “But frequently.”
Taylor glances at me and then back to the road. “I hear the craving is a little different for humans. Being that you aren’t Sephlem, you can’t feed to fill up, so you’re always in need. You run out quicker like always keeping your gas tank half-full. So, you crave more, more often.”
I nod. “That sounds exactly like my issue. I think my inconvenience falls in where it seems like I’m psychotically crazy over Nathan, and he doesn’t seem affected by the bonding at all.”
“I’m sure the feeling is mutual. He may just know how to control it better than you.” Taylor shrugs. “Since of course, he’s Sephlem, and it’s he who brought the bonding to you, not the other way around. Plus, Nathan doesn’t do much of showing his feelings anyway.”
“Would he need to feed?” I ask awkwardly, turning up my nose. Sounds like some blood sucking vermin.
“Yeah. Especially Burdeneds. But, um . . .” She tries to abort it. The crossed look in her eyes reveals she realizes she’s said too much. But I insist with a stern glower that she finishes. “Nathan would never feed off you, Tracey. It’s not something you have to worry about.”
“I’m not worried about it. I’m more concerned with what the hell it means to feed; how and why he’d need to, and if he’s not, who the hell he is feeding off of, and why the crap it isn’t me!” I kind of spew out my words, drowning in an inadequacy that makes my head hurt.
Glen leans between the seats, saying, “It hurts and is draining. It can be by their bite or it can be a exhausting sensation. Scott likes both. They’ll take from your life, absorbing your energy, your desire, everything you can think of that brings you joy, that keeps your heart pumping, they steal it, and it hurts. Scott usually does it when we’re sexing so I’m distracted and can’t feel it as much, mixing the pain with pleasure.”
“Um. Wow. When’d you get hip to Sephlem talk?”
Cowering back onto the seat, she mutters, “I overheard them talking about it one day.”
“Nathan would never draw his demon and feed off you, Tracey. He’d lose his shit. The effect gets you high—takes you to nirvana.” Taylor’s tongue slides over her lips, and she adjusts in her seat. “He doesn’t need to be that way around you. Be happy he’s going around not on full. Once you start, you can’t stop, and Nathan that high would be unpredictable.”
Maybe this is the more Nathan was referring to. I don’t know if I’m grateful he hasn’t brought it up and would prefer not to participate in those actions, or insulted that this need he has requires feeding and he’d prefer to go somewhere else to get it or go without it.
Taylor can’t shift the car into park quick enough before Justin’s yanking open the door and ripping her from the driver’s seat. They go at it, devouring each other’s mouths like an angry wave thrashing over a violent sea.
“Really. . ? You two saw each other like, four hours ago,” I grumble jealously. “Cut it out.”
“Aww, Tracey, don’t be a sourpuss,” Taylor stops kissing Justin to say. “Nathan will be back soon.” She turns her attention back to Justin, picking up where they left off.
“I’m with Tracey,” Glen states. “Olar, pull off,” she orders when he gets in.
Olar drives away, and we sit in
silence for a while. He looks between the road and me, and I wait for him to come out with it. “Tracey, I’m sorry about yesterday. I could’ve handled that better.”
“Nathan bitched to you too, Olar?” Glen snorts, leaning between our front seats so she’s seen. “Scott talked to me this morning, going off about it. I’m sorry too.”
Though we could’ve handled it better, we were trying to keep Joy from getting beat up by her boyfriend. So, we did a good thing. Maybe she’ll even get out of that situation. “It’s fine, and it’s no one’s fault,” I tell them. “Let’s try to stay under the radar today. Maybe we should leave for lunch.”
Glen sits back. “I’m good with leaving for lunch. I’m good with leaving period. Better yet, not going.”
“Glen, we have to go.” I pull my knees up to my chest and press my face to them. “We have to graduate and such. Can’t do that if we don’t go to school.” We just need to make it through these last two weeks and not kill anyone while finishing this one. I have a lot riding on the end of school going well, and I need to keep my record clean.
“I’m—”
“I’m what, Glen?” I twist in my seat to look in the back. “Oh my gosh, Glen!” I yell, unbuckling my seatbelt and climb into the backseat. “Pull over! She’s shaking, and her eyes are rolling in the back of her head. What’s wrong with her?” I lift her head onto my lap and hold her chin so her chattering teeth can’t bite her tongue.
The car swerves, and Olar’s at my side with the door open. “Let’s get her out of the car,” he says, reaching in and lifting her in his arms.
I follow him into a field off on the side of the road, five minutes from the school.
“What’s wrong with her?” I say, grabbing Olar’s shoulder. “She’s scaring the hell out of me! Seizing and unresponsive!”
“It’s not her. It’s Scott. Something’s happening,” he says too calmly. Way calmer than me as he turns Glen onto her side. She coughs, vomiting and choking on the fluids filling her mouth. “I’m checking with them now, but no one’s getting back to me.” He rubs Glen’s back, calming her regurgitating.
Brazen: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 2) Page 9
