A young wrinkle-faced gnome raced up to the display and shoved a chocolate dipped worm in his mouth. Shark-like teeth splattered bits of the worm and chocolate against the window.
Ugh! So gross! I frantically swallowed, trying not to get sick. Gnomes were one of the nastiest of Sídhí races. They were ill tempered and tended to play hurtful practical jokes. Most lived in either caves or sod huts, shunning anything that resembled a bar of soap and water.
From the look of enthusiasm, glittering from his pale yellow eyes the rumor about their diet was true. They preferred bugs, not meat or veggies.
Thanks to High Councilman MuskLeke, gnomes flocked to Clan Valley. The wretched little creatures were systematically overrunning us. Everywhere I went, I ran into a clutch of gnomes no taller than three feet with Shar Pei wrinkly faces and curly red fuzz for hair.
I ignored the gnome, focusing on Eric, but he didn't notice me. His rapt attention focused solely on the myriad of gnome candy. He swallowed twice, completely repulsed and trying not to show it.
I chuckled. Glad one thing hadn't changed. We'd always had nearly identical reactions to everything.
At my laughter, he twisted around. His eyes popped out, revealing his shock.
Ignoring his reaction, I waved toward the gnomes. “Pretty gross, huh?”
He opened his mouth then clicked it shut as if he was rethinking his words. To my relief he finally grinned. "Nasty!" he agreed, nodding toward the display as a group of teenage gnomes started fighting over a bucket of fairy nuggets. “They make me want to gag.”
"Yeah," I said, shuddering as I realized the normally teeth-achingly sweet fairy nuggets - that made my skin sparkle according to the color of the ball - had just turned the shortest gnome a muddy brown color with yellow splotches.
“How about we grab munchies and hit the next movie?” I asked, holding my breath. Little did I realize what I looked like as I nervously nibbled my lower lip.
“You keep chewing on your lip and you won't need munchies,” he said jokingly.
My stomach did a jig and my lips lifted into a face-splitting grin at his somewhat positive response. “Is that a yes?”
He sighed, tugging at his loose jeans. “I guess.”
I gritted my teeth, trying not to express my exasperation, but I'd never held anything back from him. “Look, I don't know what happened between us and I don't care.” Trying my best to keep him from drowning me in excuses, I waved away the defensive words I saw flickering in his eyes. “Doesn't matter, I'm sick of it. I miss you and we're going to be friends again if it kills us. Deal?”
He quickly nodded his head, looking relieved and happier than I'd seen him in a good long while. “Deal. I'm starved.”
“Okay, let's go. When visiting Martin's being starved is a good thing.” I followed him into the store, wanting nothing more than to link my arm in his like I'd done a thousand times before. I didn't think I could take it if he pulled away from me. I'd be so glad when his puberty hit.
As if reading my mind, his thin chest puffed out. “I mean really starved. I'm on my seventeenth day of puberty.”
“Really?” I asked excitedly, glowing from the knowledge that his scrawny body would shoot up to over six feet in the next couple of days. If his dad and brothers were any indication, Eric could easily hit six and half feet. And after his growth spurt, well, I had to hope and pray that his synth would hurry up and sing for me.
We bought bags and bags of stuff at Martin's. I knew it'd be gone by the end of the movie. Garbage disposals had nothing on a Sídhí teen before a growth spurt.
Three hours later we walked out of the theater, planning on a quick pit stop at Martin's before heading to his house. “You are so not picking the next show.”
“Hey, you agreed,” he complained, poking me in the arm. In a high voice, he added, “Oh, Eric, I've been wanting to see that. That's an awesome choice!”
I snorted. “That's not what I said. Obviously hitting puberty made me smarter, but it's warped your brain, Boy Wonder.”
He didn't answer, but kind of shrugged. Belatedly, I realized I punched some unknown 'bad' button.
Epiphany Time.
I hissed through my teeth as a sharp, clear picture of intuition smacked me between the eyes.
“That's it!” I whirled on him, pointing my finger in his startled face. “You, you, twit you! Your disappearing act was because I got an adult body and you didn't.”
Finally! After three horrid months, I understood why he didn't want to be my BF after I hit puberty and he didn't. It shouldn't have totally caught me off guard, but it did. What an idiot! Him, not me. I stomped away then shot back, waving my finger in his face. “Do you have any idea how much I've missed you? You're my best friend I don't care what you look like.”
His face turned beet red then white and flushed again. “You make it sound so simple. Dang it, Trina, how would you have felt if I hit my growth spurt before you? And you stayed a scrawny little thing with big brown eyes that couldn't quit staring at her best friends new boobs.”
I snorted. “Not a problem. I so don't have a problem with staring at your boobs.”
“That's not what I meant and you know it. I meant drooling over a powerful male body.” A growl rumbled from his chest. His eyes shot wide open and looked as startled as I did. “Um, sorry, that's never happened before.”
I chuckled. “That's okay. I'm totally honored to be your first growl. My first growl was at Principle Tinklebunn when she ordered you to wait outside in the snow until time for class.”
“Oh, thanks.” He shuffled his feet, looking extremely uncomfortable.
“So,” I drew the word out. “Does that mean you like my new improved female body? My boobs in particular?”
His eyes bugged out and he looked like he was trying to swallow a watermelon in one gulp. Air gurgled in his throat.
“If you do, that's a normal reaction for a pre-pub to have.”
He growled again, glaring at me. “Not when I couldn't even talk to you without getting... I mean. Crap, can we just drop it?”
My lips twitched at his disgruntled look, but I held my laughter in check. I felt like shouting for joy that he liked my body, but I wouldn't hurt him for the world. I reached for my bag and grabbed empty air.
My all-time favorite purse was gone. The pitch black bag with bright red lips and flashing fangs hovering over a moon that changed colors – one of Martin's famous logo's – went everywhere with me.
Eric snickered. “Forgot that black monstrosity you call a purse, didn't ya?”
“Ha ha, very funny. I'll be right back.” I turned on my heel, hurrying toward the theater entrance.
Ten minutes later, after harassing the clean-up crew who miraculously found my bag with a pile of other stuff in the break room, I walked outside.
Eric stood in front of the posters lining the wall wiggling his finger in his ear.
Excitement flooded me as I hurried toward the one person in the entire world who would be mine forever. I didn't need a stuffy scientific study to tell me I needed Eric as badly as I needed water. Or that the mental bond between lifeMates was a stabilizing factor for the long lived Sídhí. I knew it without being told.
A Sídhí without a lifeMate would eventually go insane.
Stolen
Eric glanced at the movie posters, but didn't see them. The irritating noise going off in his eardrums demanded his attention, growing worse not better.
He shook his head, trying to make the buzzing sound go away. When that didn't work, he stuck his finger in his ear and shook, really hard. The bumblebee buzz continued growing louder. The insistent noise was driving him insane.
Suddenly, he felt an urgent demand slam through his body taking his breath away. He stood gasping for oxygen, hoping it would ease up. He didn't have a clue what it meant, but he knew he had to do something. Problem was he didn't know what to do. An instant later, the urgency vanished into thin air.
He snarled a curse h
is mom would've boxed his ears for. He was sick of his body being a screwed-up mess. Up again, down again, puberty sucked. He was sick of it tearing his life apart.
Seventeen days earlier, when he entered puberty, he thought he'd finally get on with his life. For three months, he'd prayed every night to enter puberty. Then it hit with a bang, but instead of exploding outward, he imploded. Or he felt like he had.
Some cosmic prankster must've zeroed in on him, because everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. The term Murphy's Law should be changed to Eric's Law.
The ear buzzing was icing on the cake. It was even worse than the constant sleeping. Literally, he couldn't stay awake. For the last seventeen frustrating days if he sat down, he was out like a light. Hello? That was so not normal.
Nothing about his stupid puberty cycle was normal.
When a Sídhí youth entered puberty, they ate huge quantities of food. The extra energy the food provided was stored in their synth-laced blood. The synth used the extra energy like a sparkplug, stimulating a growth spurt or new ability.
Yeah, that's what normally happened.
For the first week of his puberty, the only thing he could keep on his stomach was dairy products. He drank more milk shakes in those few days than he had in his entire life. After about a week of dairy only, his body leveled off and he started eating everything in sight, but he still didn't have a growth spurt.
On the tenth day, his eyes changed color. Talk about a disaster. He was on a school field trip visiting the mundane world, standing in line at Six Flags Over Texas. He smiled as a young mundane family passed by. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Yeah, right. The woman shrieked at the top of her lungs, snatched up her toddler and went running. The husband took one look at Eric's solid black eyes and said it should be illegal to wear freakish black contacts.
On the twelfth day of puberty, his parents dragged him to a 'family' dinner. Family? Right. More like a formal dinner at a thousand-year-old castle hosted by his great Aunt Harriett and her mate, who happened to be the Grand Duke of Khärston Valley.
Eric was sitting at the duke's table and had taken his second bite of rare steak when his fangs extended for the first time. Chewing and fangs did not go hand-in-hand. He still cringed remembering how he desperately tried to get his teeth to shrink, but the harder he tried the more they throbbed. Then the stupid duke asked Eric a question. Of course, Eric couldn't very well open his mouth at that point.
On the fifteenth day of puberty, his school life changed for the worse. Forever.
He was helping his mom shop for groceries when he picked up a small seedless watermelon. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone walk up. He turned toward them. Without warning, his claws shot out puncturing the ripe melon. Freaked-out he yanked his hands away, sending sprays and chunks of juicy melon all over the place.
Of course, the person directly in front of him was none other than Principle Tinklebunn. The Dragon Lady - as all the students called her behind her back - ended up with red melon all over her pristine white suit, in her hair, and dripping down her scowling face.
The worst day was yet to come.
Thinking about yesterday morning, he groaned. He just knew he'd turn beet red - for the remainder of his life - every time he faced his mom.
His telepathy kicked-in with a bang, sending out his thoughts to everyone in a thirty-foot radius. Yeah, that didn't sound too bad. Unfortunately, he had been lying in bed thinking of Katrina. Actually, he woke-up from a vivid dream where she was licking him all over. His pinkie-sized equipment was hard as a rock and he'd started fixing the aching problem. Mortification didn't cover it when his mom and dad ported into his room, hovering over his bed.
His dad had been laughing so hard he couldn't talk and his mom's face was a vivid scarlet red as she flapped her hands in the air.
Now his telepathy wasn't working. He couldn't even receive a telepathic message. Hello? Even mundanes could hear when a Sídhí mentally spoke in their mind. Yet, his stupid crystal had made him mentally deaf.
Now, his ears were buzzing. What was up with that?
As if seeing Katrina, in that teeny-tiny bikini, hadn't totally fried his brain cells. The image of her leaning over her parent's balcony would be forever seared in his brain. Her soft brown eyes twinkled with excitement, while tendrils of chocolate-colored hair hugged her body, teasing his imagination as they slid across her nearly naked chest.
It sounded like he only wanted to ogle her body, her absolutely gorgeous body. That wasn't it at all. He missed her so much it hurt, but he didn't dare tell her how much. Not even now that they were talking again.
He hated that she entered puberty before him, because he made a fool out of himself for drooling over her new body, a body that rivaled the nymphs of Atlantis for outright sexuality. Every time he went near her, saw her, or smelled her, his teeny-weenie below his belt stiffened into a stubby pencil that wouldn't go away.
That was so not a cool thing to happen around a girl he'd known most of his life. To keep his honor intact, he did the only thing he could: He completely ignored her.
He wished he could turn the clock back.
Three months of separation had nearly killed him. Katrina wasn't only a friend; from the first time he spoke to her, she was his very best friend.
He remembered the day they met. He was eight and a half to her ten. The difference never mattered to him. He thought she hung the moon, not that she ever knew his true feelings.
The buzz grew louder, demanding his attention.
He shook his head, thumping the side of his head with the heel of his hand.
~ ~ ~
I was twenty feet away from Eric when Clarisse, dressed in a butt baring mini skirt, pranced up to my mate. Her short, red spiked hair glinted with some kind-of sparkling hairspray. Her normal throng of groupies swarmed around her, nearly blocking my view.
Clarisse grabbed Eric's arm and jerked him around, pulling him close against her very large breasts. Her long fingers held him tight as he struggled against her hold. Her garishly painted neon purple and orange fingernails brushed the skin of his neck.
Literally, I saw red. Dots of rage pulsed across the lens of my eyes. My fangs and claws lengthened, getting ready to rip her high society head off her wretched shoulders.
Clarisse's shrill laughter erupted, turning heads forty feet away. In an instant, she became the center of attention for the entire area.
“I'm so excited,” Clarisse said, gushing in a high squealing voice. Her hard brown eyes shot daggers at me. A haughty curl of her lip bared short fangs, reminding me how much she'd love me to attack her for pawing my best friend.
We'd butted heads for years. I knew how to hurt her. Image and popularity were her ultimate weaknesses, but she knew mine as well. My friends, particularly Eric, were weak spots for me.
In dramatic terms, she was my arch nemesis. Her next words stopped my headlong charge. Her smirk of triumph held the brutal satisfaction of a boa constrictor as it swallowed prey.
“Everyone!” Clarisse shouted, demanding people's attention in her singsong voice. “Meet Eric. My synth crystal sang for him, naming him my lifeMate.” Her cold eyes drilled a hole through me, daring me to say anything.
I bared my teeth and hissed at her. The angry sound echoed around the utterly silent crowd. I took a step forward, shaking with the desire – the desperate need – to rip her arms out of their sockets.
Everyone turned and looked at me. Disgust and horrified fascination covered most of the faces present. No one, not even a member of the High Council, got between a pair of lifeMates.
My eyes flew to Eric. His gaze locked onto my face. His mouth hung open, appearing dumb struck. His whole body shuddered once. Dark gray eyes changed from simple disgust to resigned revulsion.
I took another step, raising my hand.
He shook his head at me; a near undetectable movement only I noticed, telling me to back away.
De
ep in my throat, I whimpered. He'd made his decision and it wasn't for me.
My hand dropped. Clenching my fingers in my sweats, I shredded the material before I remembered to retract my claws. I should've let go before the material started unraveling under the pressure of my grip, but I didn't. I kept a strangle hold on those shredded pieces of cotton. They allowed me to maintain control when all I wanted to do was kill.
One of the first lessons every young vampire received was learning how to suppress the driving urge to kill all enemies. So yeah, two very good reasons kept my hands fisted in my sweat pants. First, my knotted hand kept me from reaching for my mate. Second, if my hands were free I might kill Clarisse.
Learning control was hard. Yeah, actually controlling my instinct sucked.
Despair surrounded me. Why of all days did Clarisse decide to play such a spiteful game? My whimper slowly changed to a growl. This could not be happening, not today. Finding my lifeMate, finding out my best friend was my lifeMate should've been the most awesome day of my life, not pure hell.
“Eric, darling, aren't you going to say something?” Clarisse questioned, jerking his thin body back and forth.
He winced in pain as Clarisse held him too tight. One wrong move and she could very easily break every bone in his narrow chest. Oh, I'd rip her to shredded pieces, but that wouldn't help Eric.
My vampire heritage boiled eagerly to the surface, rushing to claim me. Blood pumped into my head, nearly blinding me with uncontrollable anger.
I hissed through my clenched teeth and growled, trying to vent my growing fury and not give into instinct. A vampire's lifeMate was the most precious thing in our life. Even without a formal lifeBond between us, Eric meant the world to me. I'd crawl on my hands and knees through flowing lava or fight a hoard of trolls if it meant keeping him safe.
Instinct demanded I protect him.
“Of course,” Eric said quickly, his voice breaking in his rush to pacify her and, no doubt, to keep me from ripping her lungs through her nose. “I, I'm, uh,” he stumbled to a halt.
My growl grew louder, surrounding everyone. I heard a soft giggle and I snarled louder.
Stolen Love (YA Paranormal Novella) Page 2
