I WHIRL BACK TO ZIG who’s staring at my bedroom door as if he’s waiting for a vision. The expression reminds me of earlier today. “Zig—”
“Okay, okay, I’m leaving,” he grumbles, taking several steps back. “You’re amazing, lovely Ana. I’m glad Ernest found you. Good to have someone to hang out with. Sort of like a sister, friend, everything rolled into one.”
Anton’s footfalls reach the last step.
“Does this mean you’ll stop flirting with me?”
“Not a chance.” He flashes me a huge grin. A second later, citrus fills the air as he ghosts away.
“Ana?” The door to my room flies open. Anton staggers in, drops on the seat Zig just vacated, and dramatically throws his head back.
I wrinkle my nose. “Gosh, you need a shower, Anton. And those sneakers, Mom will skin you if she finds you lugging them inside the house.”
“That’s what manly scent smells like, big sis.” He seems to take painful efforts to lift his head. “Your room smells great.” He sniffs again. “Did you use one of those sprays you like so much?”
Zig’s ghosting scent. “Yeah.”
“I should try those sometime.” He drops his head back again.
I chuckle. “Like that would erase the stinky sock smell in your room.” My eyes catch the shopping bags on the floor. I hurry over and swiftly kick them under my bed. Anton doesn’t move an inch.
“Go take a shower and come down to help me.”
He tilts his head. “What’s for dinner?”
“Baked potatoes and chicken.”
He groans loudly. “Again?”
I stroll over and slip my arm around his sweaty one and pull him up. “Consider my dinner a huge treat, unless you want frozen pizza. Rolf is joining us.”
He perks up, his eyes round and bright. The two get along like a grass roof and fire. “Thank goodness he saved us from frozen pizza. Lately we’ve eaten so much I think it’s growing inside my stomach.” He rubs his belly.
I laugh and drag him out of my room.
***
Anton and Lucy gulp down their dinner, excuse themselves from the table, then scamper off, leaving Mom, Dad, Rolf, and me to finish ours. Having guests over is the only time my siblings escape the dinner table, so they take advantage of that to its fullest.
The tips of Rolf’s fingers move in circles on my thigh, sending every nerve in my body into hyperawareness.
“So, Rolf, you’re still intending to follow in your father’s footsteps?” Dad asks from across the table, his voice deep and calm. Mom’s leaning on his shoulder, smiling serenely.
The movement on my thigh halts. He lays his hand flat on my leg, then slides it to mine and weaves our fingers together. I glance down at our hands and frown. The yellow mist outlining his hand shifts, mingling with murky grey. I hadn’t noticed this on anyone before. What does this mean for his soul?
“Yes, I am, Mr. Tei.” Rolf’s voice pulls me back to the conversation. He sounds so serious. Actually, he never wanted to study law. He’d once told me that maybe if he did, his dad would accept him, and they’d get to spend more time together.
“I think you will make a brilliant lawyer. Like your father.” Dad lifts the glass of wine to his lips. “And please call me Peter. You’re practically part of the family. You’ve earned the right, Rolf.” Dad smiles, his eyes crinkle at the corners. Hmm. Would he change his mind about that statement if I leaned in and kissed Rolf? He’d probably toss him out the front door. I bite my lips to stop the giggle bubbling in my throat. He’s always insisting that Rolf call him Peter, but Rolf keeps going back to either “sir” or “Mr. Tei”.
Rolf’s fingers stiffen for a second, before his lips lift slightly to a smile. “Thank you, s—Peter. And thank you for allowing me the pleasure of dating your daughter.” I almost roll my eyes. Rolf is so proper it hurts. I squeeze his hand and smile at him. From the corner of my eye, I catch Mom smiling widely, leaning contently on Dad’s shoulder. I almost roll my eyes again.
There is nothing that gets Mom smiling more than charm. And today she’s basking in it from both men in the room. And the fact that she hasn’t said much this evening proves just how content she is.
I shove a potato cube in my mouth and peek at Rolf. Dressed in a steel grey button down shirt and faded blue jeans, he looks ridiculously delectable. His hair is meticulously combed back, appearing dark in the light from the candles. Makes me want to reach out and ruffle it. My eyes slide to his face. His jaw is clenched tightly, eyes focused on his plate. His eyebrows dip for a moment, in what seems like a thoughtful expression. I know better.
“You have everything ready for the Conservatory, Silver?”
I look at Dad and nod. “I have orientation in two weeks.” If Grim doesn’t take me soul collecting.
He smiles. “Good. As I always say, follow your dream. It’s the only way to find out what life has in store for you.” He places a kiss on Mom’s temple. Mom returns his look with adoring eyes.
Rolf squeezes my hand.
After clearing the table, Mom and Dad huddle next to the sink, putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Taking this as a sign that Rolf and I have been released, I inform my parents we’re heading to my room. That pulls Dad’s attention back to us. Even though they seem to adore Rolf, Dad’s eyes narrow all the same.
“Just studying and talking, I promise. And I have to explain some stuff about today’s music lesson.”
Dad’s gaze flits to Rolf in one of those cryptic communications men seem to like so much, and I never understand, then nods.
“We have like one minute before they come check on us,” I whisper, grabbing his hand and scuttling upstairs.
As soon as my bedroom door closes, Rolf swings me around and backs me up against the door, his entire length to mine. He slides his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. He leans down, pressing his lips on my forehead. “Your dad doesn’t trust me.”
I slide my hands up his firm chest and slip them around his neck, tangling my fingers with the silky-soft hair curling on his collar. “I don’t think my dad trusts any boy in my room.”
He chuckles, his warm breath caressing the shell of my ear. “Good thing he doesn’t.” His voice is hoarse, tossing away any decent thoughts from my mind. “I’ve missed you.” My knees barely hold me up as his lips trail my jaw, in a slow torturous pace. His arms tighten around me, melding us together. Hiking to my toes, I push my body forwards until all that surrounds me is his light sandalwood aftershave.
“Missed you—” His mouth covers mine, cutting me off. Every sound inside the flat fades. Everything in me veers forwards, focusing on him, on his lips on mine, not caring that my parents could walk in on us, or my siblings down the hallway could barge in. His hands travel down the hem of my T-shirt, and under it, wrap around my waist and soon his fingertips whisper into my skin. And I’m burning. They hike farther up. Every nerve in my body narrows to his fingers. I’m sure if he stops, my body will shatter into millions of worthless pieces. And when they do move up to trace the outer line of my lace bra, my body trembles with the promise of combusting. A whimper bubbles up my throat, and I push myself further into him. If only I could get under his skin, then we could be one. He groans low as he pushes me against the door seeming as desperate as I am. I tighten my hold on him at the same time fumble awkwardly with his shirt searching for the path to his skin. As soon as my fingers touch his skin, his whole body trembles.
He lifts his mouth from mine, then buries his face in the crook of my neck, breathing hard. I clutch him closer, tighter, my breath mirroring his.
“Kissing you has got to be the most pleasurable thing in the world, Ana.” His voice is still rough, his breath deliciously warm on the nape of my neck.
I couldn’t agree more. I mean about kissing him. It takes a while before our breathing normalises.
He lifts his head, his just kissed lips stretched into a smile, and leans down to kiss my nose. He presses his forehead to mine, t
hen nuzzles my neck.
I breathe all the way out, trying to assemble words in my head. “Not to spoil the mood or anything, but I need to ask. What’s going on with you?” I stretch on my tiptoes, inching my nose to his neck to breath his scent.
The arms around my waist tense, then relax again. “What do you mean?”
“You’re often sick, and—” Would it sound like I was snooping if I asked him about the errands? “You’ve been—”
He lifts his head from the crook of my neck, leaving me cold. His nostrils flare. “Your room smells different.”
What? I pull back to look at him. He cocks his head, eyes darting across the room. The passion thrumming in my veins takes flight. Dread clears my vision. “What?” I squeak. His eyes swing down at me. I rarely squeak, which is a dead giveaway. His hands drop from inside my T-shirt, taking any passion residue with them. I guess the make-out session is over. I sigh, swallowing my disappointment.
Rolf stalks three steps forwards, his hands braced on his hips. His shoulder muscles bunch and release with every angry stride. “I can smell it.” His voice is a harsh, cold whisper. I’m not sure he realises he spoke the words aloud. “Something’s different. The scent in here is different.” He whirls around to face me, his eyes the blackest of unlit coals. He stalks back to me. “Ana.” That word is so final on his lips.
My heart and breath crash into each other. “That’s just room spray. Don’t you like it?” I take a step towards him, trying very hard to keep my face neutral. “Because if you don’t, I’ll open the windows to air the room.”
He sniffs one more time. “Someone else has been in the room. This scent is different from the others.” He inhales again. Deeply. “So familiar. Someone was here. Someone other than your family.”
How can he tell? This is too weird. “If you’re referring to the manly scent hovering in the room, Anton was here earlier, all sweaty.”
“I know Anton’s scent,” he says between clenched teeth, his eyes flashing. I blink at him several times. How could he know Anton’s scent? Does this mean he knows Mom, Dad, and Lucy’s? Gross.
“No one else has been inside here other than Anton, Rolf. What’s gotten into you anyway?”
He curls his hands into fists, veins popping out. He looks like he is about to pummel anyone who dares cross his path. In one sleek move, he swallows the distance between us, grabs my upper arms and lifts me with inhuman strength. Before I can blink, my back is up against the wall next to my bedroom door, his fingers biting into my skin. Ten fingers that have always held me like glass, breathed life into my skin, now are manacles, choking the life out of it. I try to twist, but his fingers dig deeper. I never knew Rolf could be this strong.
He leans in and whispers in my ear, “You are mine, Ana. You and I, souls intertwined. No one, I repeat, no one touches what is mine. I’m not above harming anyone who tries.” His voice is so low, so cold it sends chills slithering all over my body.
He pulls back and glares at me. His eyes, oh, his eyes are dark. Dark like pools of ink.
I shiver. When did Rolf develop the “Thou shall not mess around with what is mine”silliness? And that voice. “Listen to me, Rolf. No one was in my room.” Oh man, his eyes are on fire. This is scary. I press my palms on his chest. His heart drums against my hand. “You have no reason to be jealous or suspicious.”
He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink.
I take a deep shaky breath. “Let go of me, Ro. I’ll scream if you don’t.” My voice, my legs, my body, everything in me trembles.
His lips pull back into a snarl. A growl, so unlike the one of before when we were kissing, rips from his throat.
I blink, ready to scream, but the fist heading straight at me freezes me. It whooshes past my cheek. Before it can make any impact, I duck from under his arm and dart away as it slams on the wall. “What the hell, Ro?”
Rolf doesn’t turn around. His shoulders slump, and his head drops forwards. He shoves a hand into his hair and cups his neck. He mumbles and swivels around to face me. The mask of fury is gone, replaced by the usual Rolf. My Rolf. He stares at me confused, curling and uncurling his bruised hand. He looks down at it, then back at me, eyes wide. I don’t know what he sees in my face, probably the fear and horror ripping inside of me. He stumbles away from me as if scalded, his body pressed into the wall.
“Ana?”
I DON’T ANSWER. I can’t. I swallow, trying to keep my heart from tumbling out. Lucy’s voice playing pretend with her dolls and the music from Anton’s video game fill the spaces in the charged air.
“Ana?” Rolf swallows, as his eyes search mine. “What have I done?” His voice is a broken whisper, saturated in pain.
I blink at him and clasp my hands together to stop them from trembling. He’s like one person with two personalities. Surely, he can remember what happened less than one minute ago.
Maybe him leaving is a good idea. But first…“What’s going on with you, Ro?” He shakes his head slowly, eyes wide, terrified. “I’m freaking out here, and I need to know, understand this. Come sit with me for a short while.” I hold out my hand, even though my whole body screams at me to stop, to step away.
He jerks back and plasters his body further into the wall, a wild, caged-animal look on his face. He stares at my hand for a moment, as he fights to bring his breathing under control. Finally, he places his hand in mine. I lead him to my bed and scoot to brace my back on the wall, then pull my legs up. Rolf leans back on the wall.
“Are you okay?”
He studies his hands. “Are you all right?”
“No. You scared me.”
Heavy footsteps halt outside my bedroom door seconds before it swings inward. Dad pokes his head in, narrowing his eyes at me, then Rolf. He straightens, takes a step inside the room, and folds his arms across his chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be sitting by the computer, noses buried in books?” I straighten my legs and slide them off the bed.
“Dad, please.”
“Silvana, can you step into the hall for a minute?” His voice is so stern it brooks no place for argument.
I roll my eyes and reach to give Rolf’s hand a squeeze like I usually do, but pull back. I whisper, “Be right back,” and scoot out of the bed, heart pounding in my chest.
After pulling the door shut, I round on Dad before he can say anything. “Rolf and I weren’t doing anything, Dad. You and Mom have to trust me.”
“You are seventeen and still live under our roof. You adhere to the rules we’ve set. Don’t you think Anton and Lucy look up to you?”
“But we weren’t doing anything, just talking.” I want to yell. Knowing Dad, I’d end up getting myself grounded. Not worth it.
Dad scrutinizes me for a few seconds, then rubs his forehead. “You know I’m doing all this for your own good, right?”
More for your peace of mind.
I nod like a good girl who’s meant to set a good example for her siblings. He sighs, gives me a hard look, and says, “You think with your heart, Silvana. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Just be careful. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of my daughter. Please don’t do anything stupid.” He leaves, and I slip back inside the room to find Rolf pacing the carpet, one hand rubbing his neck and the other clamped over his mouth.
“I’m leaving.”
“Don’t. Don’t leave. Talk to me, Ro.” I need to understand this new transformation in him.
He wheels around, eyes wild and desperate. “Why? Why do you care?”
My mouth drops open. “Why do I care? How can you even ask me that, Ro? We’ve been together one year. Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t love you, care for you?” Something snaps inside me, mingles with the fear churning inside me. “Don’t you think I have reason enough to care? Or do you think I’ve been hanging around you just for fun?” As if a switch has been turned off, the wildness in his eyes disappears. He looks like a startled bird ready to take flight. His eyes dart to the door. “Don’t r
un away from this, Ro.”
The muscles in his throat work furiously, as he lifts his eyes to mine. “I’m not running away, Ana. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I love you so much. But I’m so afraid… I have to leave.” He brushes past me, but halts, turning around to face me. He bridges the space between us, his eyes focused at the space above my shoulder. “Something is wrong. With me. I—I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember. Right now—” His eyes shift to mine. He cups my cheek. “I can’t stay.” His hand slips from my face, curls into a fist, and presses into his forehead. “Tell me what happened. Please.” Even that one word is loaded with so much pain.
“One minute we were kissing, and the next you were furious. You thought someone had been in my room and made threats about…”
He squeezes his eyes shut and turns away.
Is he sick? Is missing his father responsible for this violent side of him? I clench and unclench my hands to stop myself from reaching for him. Scenes of a few minutes ago when he wasn’t himself flash through my mind. I take a step back and breathe deeply. I need to know what’s happening to him. I can’t abandon him now when he looks so vulnerable, confused. I slip my arms around his waist. His body stiffens. Our short-lived kissing session feels like it happened millions of years ago. I press my cheek on his back. Finally, his body loosens.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says quietly.
“What are you talking about?” He doesn’t turn around. If only I could slip into his head to know what he’s thinking, catch a glimpse of what’s bothering him. “Please look at me.”
He shakes his head, his body trembling in my arms. A deep low growl rips from his lips. He wrenches away from me, and yanks the door open and slips out. The door shuts with a final click.
I stare at the closed bedroom door, as wave after wave of crashing silence roars inside my head. What just happened? Rolf has never walked out on a conversation before. Neither have I seen this anguish, fear, and desperation on his face.
Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) Page 11
