He grins back, his eyes glinting wickedly.
God, he really does get off on this, doesn’t he?
“Whatever. Deep down, I know you love me.” A devious smile carves across his face. “Maybe not as much as you love Foster, but probably pretty close.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but his smirk only turns more wicked. Then he spins on his heels and struts down the hallway with a cocky bounce in his step.
“One day, he’s going to meet someone who gives him a taste of his own medicine,” I murmur with a shake of my head.
“Oh, I know, and I can’t wait,” Foster agrees, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “Payback is going to be a real bitch.”
“Definitely.” I trade a conspiratorial grin with him. “And we should make sure to tease the crap out of him when it does happen. Pay him back for all the teasing he’s giving us.”
“Sounds like a deal to me.” He grins at me then backs toward his door. “I’m going to go get changed. I’ll be right back, okay?”
I nod then hurry into my room to get changed. Once I’ve pulled on a pair of comfy shorts and a tank top, I climb into bed and check my messages while I wait for Foster to arrive. A frown pulls at my lips when I note there are no new messages from Nina and Gage. Not that I texted them since last night, but I’ve been busy. I guess they are, too.
I sigh at the screen, feeling as though we’re already starting to drift apart, something I was worried about.
I’m not even sure what to do—how to stay connected to them, or if I should even try. Won’t I be putting them in danger? Just how much danger am I going to be in? Will I ever feel totally safe?
Countless worries and questions haunt my mind as I wait for Foster to return.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Come in,” I call out, setting my phone on the nightstand beside my bed.
Foster enters my room, wearing drawstring pajama bottoms and a T-shirt that has a logo that reads: Ash East Arrow.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at the logo on his shirt.
“It’s the band Easton ditched school to go see that one time I told you about.” He stops beside my bed and picks a piece of lint off his shirt. “They’re pretty popular amongst paranormals. The lead singer is actually a genie, the drummer is a cyborg, and the bassist is a faerie.”
I blink stupidly at him. “Um … Wait. Genies and cyborgs …? Huh?”
He smiles amusedly as he climbs into bed beside me and rolls over onto his side, facing me. “I kind of like that you don’t know a lot about our worlds, and that I get to be the one to show you everything. I know you haven’t seen much yet, but I promise, when we travel, I’ll show you everything, including this band performing live.”
For once in my life, I’m actually bursting with excitement about something.
“I’d like that, Fost. I really would.” When the most real smile I’ve ever seen graces his pretty lips, I ask, “What?”
“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head, his grin as shiny as the stars and moon outside. “It’s just that you called me Fost.”
“Your family does, too,” I remind him, unsure what the big deal is.
His grin continues to sparkle. “I know, but I like that you’re using my nickname. It means you’re getting more comfortable around me.”
I neither deny or admit it, unsure about the answer myself.
“I’m so tired tonight,” I mumble through a yawn.
“You should go to sleep. You had an exhausting day.” He lightly grazes his lips across my forehead and my heart does that stupid fluttering thing again. “You’re safe with me.”
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
He wants me safe.
“Goodnight, Fost,” I whisper as exhaustion pulls me under.
“Goodnight, beautiful girl,” he whispers so softly I wonder if I heard him correctly. “I’m so glad I finally got to meet you.”
Again, his words puzzle me.
“What do you …? I think …” I fight the sleepiness inside my body, yet it’s too powerful to overcome, and I have no choice but to succumb to it.
Chapter 11
The next day passes by in a blur, and is mostly filled with practicing using my powers while we wait to hear from Emaline about the room of darkness.
After we’re done practicing, Easton decides we need to have some fun, mostly because he’s bored.
I’m learning that he’s bored a lot and likes to let everyone know when he is.
“No thanks,” Foster immediately turns down Easton’s suggestion of having a little fun and doing something crazy.
He and I are sitting on a sofa in the living room and a fire is blazing in the fireplace, the flames created by Foster’s power. Music is playing from a stereo, a song by the band Ash East Arrow. I like the sound of their music, although their pained and tortured filled lyrics make me worry how frightening some of the other worlds are.
Easton fires a playful glare at Foster as he plops down in a chair across from us. “Why the instant rejection, brother?”
Foster drapes his arm across the back of the chair. “Because, usually when you want to have fun, we end up doing something stupid like burning up an entire field or accidentally opening a portal to the Underworld.”
My eyes widen. I don’t even know why. I’ve heard so much crazy shit lately that nothing should faze me anymore. “The Underworld actually exists?”
“I love how she skipped over the fact that we accidentally opened a portal to it.” Easton kicks his feet up onto a table and tucks his hands behind his head. “Come on; let’s do something fun. I’m bored.”
Foster ignores him, looking directly at me. “The Underworld does exist, and it’s probably one of the scariest worlds there is, at least according to most of the creatures that’ve been there. And when we accidentally opened that portal, that scariness leaked into our house in the form of four grim reapers. It was intense to say the least.”
“Grim reapers exist? And there’re more than one? What the actual shit?”
Chuckling, Foster places a finger underneath my chin and guides my mouth closed. “There is, but unless you play let’s-see-who-can-build-a-more-powerful-orb-of-power with Easton that conclusively results in a portal to the Underworld opening up in your living room, you probably won’t cross paths with one.” He lowers his hand to his lap. “They mostly stick to their world unless they’re collecting souls.”
“So, if I see one, then they’re probably there to collect my soul?” I ask with a shudder.
He shakes his head. “Our kind’s souls aren’t collected by reapers.”
“Then what happens when we die?” I ask, leaning back against the sofa, the back of my head ending up resting against his arm.
“When our kind die, our essences leave our bodies and return to a field a lot like the one you saw when you went into that portal with my family,” Easton answers, slanting forward in his chair and resting his arms on his knees.
“That doesn’t sound too bad, I guess,” I tell him, stretching out my legs in front of me.
“It really isn’t,” Foster says, combing his fingers through my hair. “Some also believe that, when we die, our essence reunites with the essence of the creature we love.”
The touch of his fingers in my hair is like a little massage and makes my eyelids feel heavy. “That doesn’t sound too bad at all.”
“You know what does sound bad, though?” Easton asks with a cock of his brow. “The sound of your guys’ lust flowing down the link. Seriously, turn that shit off.”
I scowl at him. “I wasn’t feeling lustful.” Was I?
“You may not have been, but this guy over here.” Easton hitches his finger in Foster’s direction.
Foster blasts his brother with a glare. “Not that shit off. Seriously. I can’t take it anymore.”
“You knock it off,” Easton quips. “It’s making me want to puke all over the floor.”
I smirk
at him. “Puke on the floor. Like we care. All that will result in is you having to clean puke off the floor.”
Easton mirrors my smirk. “Like I care either. I wouldn’t even have to lift a finger to do so.” His smirk morphs into an arrogant grin as he snaps his fingers.
A shimmering wave rolls over the room, wiping the dust away and making all the furniture, walls, floor, and mantle sparkle.
Feeling a little haughty myself, I lift my hand and think about the idea of a cloud appearing above him and showering rain down on him. We practiced enough that I’m fairly sure I can do it.
As a cloud forms above him, I start to grin, but then the cloud crumbles and lands on Easton, covering him in smoky dirt.
He curses, jumping to his feet and wiping the dirt off his face. “What the hell was that?”
I pull a whoops face. “Not what I was going for, but it still sort of got the job done.”
Easton drags the back of his hand across his face, wiping away the dirt from his lips as he narrows his eyes on me. “So, you want to play dirty, do you?”
Shit. I so didn’t think this through all the way. “No, not really.”
An eerie smirk possesses his face as silver sparks of light hiss across his skin. “You probably should’ve thought about that before you dumped a cloud of dirt on me, lightning eyes.” Then he raises his hands.
Fear lashes through me. Not that I think Easton will do anything to hurt me, but I’m sure whatever he’s about to do isn’t going to be nice either.
I jump to my feet, preparing to run.
His smile broadens as he stalks toward me. “Chasing is only going to make this more fun.”
Panicking, I try to drag my powers out of me, but the panic is making the energy inside me falter. Luckily, Foster stands up and positions himself in front of me.
“Move out of my way, Fost,” Easton gripes. “I just want to play with her for a while.”
Foster crosses his arms. “No fucking way.”
“I’m not going to hurt her,” Easton says, sounding hurt.
“I know, but …” Foster takes a breath. “I just can’t let you do this, okay? It goes against all of my instincts.”
“Oh, fine. Ruin my fun.” Pouting, Easton trudges out of the room with his shoulders slumped. Right as he reaches the doorway, though, he sneaks a smile at me then snaps his fingers.
Water pours down from the ceiling and spills across me. I let out a squeal, stumbling into Foster.
“You little shit,” I growl out at Easton, water dripping down my face and soaking my clothes.
Easton takes one look at me, particularly the blue sparks zapping from my fingertips, and hightails it out of the room, laughing his ass off.
Sighing, Foster reels around toward me. “Are you okay?” He looks like he’s on the verge of laughing.
I wring my hair out. “This isn’t funny.”
“It sort of is.” His smile breaks through as I glare at him. “I’m sorry, but you did dump a cloud of dirt on him, which was pretty badass, by the way.”
“Yeah, it was, except for I was trying to make it rain on him.”
“You’ll get better,” he promises, tugging on a strand of my wet hair. “And if it makes you feel any better, the whole wet look looks really good on you.” His gaze deliberately scrolls up and down my body.
I roll my eyes, but heat rushes through me. Not wanting him to see me blush, I raise my chin and turn for the doorway.
“I’m going to change,” I announce. “And then I’m going to bed.”
“You want me to sleep with you again tonight?” The chuckling in his tone makes me want to say no. But ever since he started spending the night in my bed, nightmares of darkness have been less prominent. Plus, I like having him lay next to me, of knowing I’m not alone. Whether that makes me needy or not, I don’t have a clue.
“Yeah, fine,” I mumble, then haul ass out of the room before he can see how much I want him to sleep by me.
About an hour later, I’m showered and lounging around in my bed when a knock sounds on my door.
“Come in,” I call out, figuring it’s Foster.
But when the door opens, Easton steps inside.
He’s wearing a pair of black pajama bottoms and a grey T-shirt, and his hair is a little damp. He also appears a bit apprehensive, which seems very out of character for him.
“So,” he starts, raking his fingers through his hair and glancing around at the photos I hung up on the wall of my past life. Or well, it’s starting to feel like my past life.
When his gaze skims across one of Gage, Nina, and I having a snowball fight and laughing our asses off, a small smile tugs at his lips. “You look happy in this one.”
“I was.” I scoot to the edge of the bed, stand up, and make my way over to him. “It was a couple of years ago and my mom took the photo without us knowing… I think it was the first photo she ever took of me.” I press my lips together, suddenly aware of how true my statement is.
How did I never notice this before? That my parents never took photos of me?
Easton’s gaze glides toward me and his lips part. I wait for him to ask me questions about what I said, if my parents were shitty, but all he says is, “Your hair’s still wet.”
I fidget with the ends of the strands, running my fingers through them. “Not from the water you dumped on me. I took a shower to wash that off.” I scowl at him, but my lips threaten to turn upward.
I’m not sure why, but it’s difficult to stay pissed off at him, even after he dumped water on me. Maybe it’s because he’s usually smiling and joking around, but right now he seems extremely sedated.
“Is everything okay? You seem quiet. Plus, you’re in my room…” I leave the question hanging out there, hoping he’ll explain.
Instead he smirks.
I should’ve known better.
“Is lightning eyes worried about my wellbeing?” he teases. “I’m touched.”
I aim an unimpressed look at him and cross my arms. “I was worried about you until you opened your mouth.”
He flashes me a toothy grin, but then his smile deflates. “Actually, Fost sent me in here. Max just sent him a message and said he needed his help with something.” He makes a path around my room, examining more of the photos on the walls. “He asked me to come in here and lay down with you while you fall asleep.” He turns toward me, tapping his fingers against the sides of his legs. “I’ll only stay though if you want me to.”
He’s being oddly serious and it’s making me feel super uneasy.
“Wow, is that your way of trying to be a gentlemen?” I joke in an attempt to lighten his sullen mood.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “It’s a rare occurrence, but it sometimes happens. Like a eclipse or the stars aligning.”
My brow teases upward. “So I should consider myself lucky?”
He grins. “Absolutely.”
The uneasiness leaves me and I grin back at him. But the corners of my mouth tip downward again when he plops down onto my bed and tucks his arms behind his head, totally comfortable.
When I make no effort to join him, his lips pull up into an impish half-grin. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t bite.”
“I have a feeling that’s a lie,” I mumble, but climb onto the other side of the bed.
He pivots onto his side, propping up onto his elbow and resting his chin against his hand. “You seem nervous,” he remarks.
I make a big show of rolling my eyes. “Why would I be nervous?”
“I have no idea,” he says with surprising seriousness. “You know, most of the stuff I say is just me messing around, right?”
With a yawn, I pull a blanket over me then stare up at the ceiling, feeling a light buzzing sensation just underneath my skin. I find it strange but relaxing, along with the faint scent of rain lingering in the air. Is it coming from him? “Yeah, why?”
“I just want to make sure you don’t think I’m being serious when I tease y
ou. I rarely am serious.”
I tilt my head toward him. “Why is that?”
“Why is what?” He acts like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, but I think he does.
“Why do you joke around all the time?”
“Why does anyone joke around all the time?”
“Aw, the old answering a question with a question. Usually that means someone’s hiding something.”
He dismisses me with a flick of his wrist. “Nah, I’m the most straightforward creature you’ll ever meet. I say whatever’s on my mind whenever I want.”
For the faintest instant, worry tiptoes through my veins. Worry that doesn’t belong to me. Is it the link doing it? Who feels worried? Easton?
“We should get some sleep,” he says, purposefully ending the conversation as he rolls onto his back and shuts his eyes. “It’s fucking exhausting keeping an eye on you, lightning eyes.” Hilarity rings in his tone.
“You’re equally as exhausting,” I quip, rolling onto my side.
He stays quiet, pretending to go to sleep. And yes, I know for a fact he’s pretending. I have no damn clue how. Only that I do. Maybe I would’ve asked him if tiredness hadn’t grabbed me by the hand and yanked me into dreamland.
I dream of being in a lightning bolt again, of wearing a crown on my head, only this time I’m alone.
“You’re the only one who can save them,” the lightning whispers to me. “Find the others and save them.”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper to the lightning. “Save who? And find who?”
“You’ll know what to do when the time is right.” The lightning crackles around me. “You’re the strongest one.”
“Strongest one of what?” I ask, diving farther into the lightning.
When I get no response, I feel as though my chest is going to tear apart, as if something has been stolen from me.
“Come back, please,” I whisper, tears spilling from my eyes. “Don’t leave me.”
The only response I get is silence.
“Don’t leave me,” I sputter as my eyelids spring open and I bolt upright.
Shimmering Chaos (Enchanted Chaos Series ) Page 11
