My lips part. "I can't hear you."
He flinches as if I yelled. Then his lips move. "Why?"
I lift my hand and unsteadily point at my ear. "Whatever that metal scraping noise was made my eardrums burst. Don't worry, though; I'll heal."
At least, I hope. I don't say that aloud, though.
A frown forms on his face as he eyes me. Then he extends his hand toward me. I slip my fingers through his, and he easily lifts me to my feet as if I weigh nothing. When his fingers leave mine, he brings his hands to my shoulders and rests his forehead against mine.
Can you hear me? His voice fills my head.
I jump, startled, and he starts to pull back, but I put a hand on his hip and guide him back to me.
Yeah, I can hear you, I think, hoping his ability is a two-way street.
He shuts his eyes. Are you okay?
My ears hurt a little bit, but other than that, I think I'm okay.
Good. I think we should be okay for a while.
Why? Where did the Orders go?
They ran away because of that noise you heard, he explains
What was that noise? I ask.
A noise I learned to make when I was very young. My mom taught it to me after our house was raided by Orders. Told me if I ever needed to send a bunch of them away to make the noise. His breath dusts across my cheeks, tickling my skin, and my fingers on his hips twitch, skimming the strip of flesh right above his pants.
A shiver rolls over me, and not necessarily in a bad way. The strange, new sensation sends warmth over my skin and, not knowing how to react, my body shudders again.
You're shivering. Blaise pulls back to look me in the eye, placing his fingers on my temple. Are you sure you're not hurt?
I nod, my cheeks heating for reasons I can't comprehend. I'm fine.
He studies me with a pucker forming at his brow, and I squirm under his scrutiny, again for reasons I don't understand. Or maybe I sort of do, but I'm just confused.
My thoughts wander to the guy I once thought I loved, who later found out what I was and hunted me. From what I can remember, I shivered this way around him whenever he touched me or looked at me a certain way. I liked the feeling at the time, but loathed it after he crushed my heart.
Heartbreak ... I know that feeling.
Blaise presses his lips together.
My eyes pop wide. Did he just hear that?
We should probably go before the Orders come back, Blaise pushes his voice into my head again. I'm going to move my fingers away from your head. If you need anything, just tap me on the arm, okay?
When I nod, he walks toward the front of the bus. I follow, moving slowly as I cautiously step over the dead bodies and glass all over the floor. With every step, my ears pulsate with pain, but I keep a straight face every time Blaise looks back at me, not wanting to worry him.
When he reaches the door, he picks up the seats and tosses them out the broken windshield. Then he bashes the door open with his foot, hops outside, and motions for me to come down.
I trot down the tilted stairway and stop at his side, grabbing his arm.
Now what? I ask tensely, looking around at the glass on the ground and the upside-down vehicles.
He presses his fingers to the side of my head. Now we try to find a place to lay low until Reece pulls us out of here. We can also look around and see if you can remember anything, but only if we're careful.
When I nod, he moves his fingers away and steps back. He doesn't offer me his hand as he starts up the road in the direction we were before we were attacked by the Orders. I find the move a bit strange, since he's been holding my hand most of the time we've been here. He's probably on overload from all the touching we did while rolling around on the bus's floor.
Telling myself not to look too much into his behavior, I jog to catch up with him. Then we walk side by side, our guard up, as we zigzag around broken down vehicles and the occasional dead body.
The sky gradually begins to shift from a grimy grey to a pastel orange pink, illuminating the land with a sunset glow. The sight would be breathtaking, except for the corpses lying in the road, in the cars, and on the sidewalks.
I try my best not to look at the dead bodies, but the air reeks of rotting meat left out in the sun for days. The smell makes my eyes water and my soul ache. So much death in this place. So much pain. So much destruction.
Caused by you.
The voice that nudges into my thoughts isn't my own, yet I've heard it many, many times before. Like most things, I can't place from where.
Who are you? I silently whisper.
My only response is soundlessness.
Sighing, I fix my concentration of the collapsed stores and office buildings surrounding us. The feeling that I'm being watched creeps up on me again.
I think we're being watched, I tell Blaise once I hop over a tipped-over shopping cart and lightly touch his arm.
He inches closer to me until his shoulder touches mine. Then he reaches around and places his finger to my temple. I think so, too. Keep an eye out for anything that looks out of the ordinary.
I nod, questioning what is considered unordinary since everything about this world feels different.
We continue hiking up the road, on edge, and remaining fairly quiet since I can't hear. A thousand questions burn at the tip of my tongue. I want to ask him where we are heading, how long before the Orders come back, how long does he think we'll be in here.
After what feels like an eternity, my hearing sluggishly returns, starting with the intake of my breath to the thudding of my clunky boots hitting the pavement, then to Blaise singing.
Wait? Blaise is singing?
He has an amazing voice, soft and soothing, and the tragically, sexy and beautiful lyrics make my stomach do weird kickflips. I listen for a while, feeling a tad guilty for eavesdropping, but not enough to declare the regrowth of my eardrums and ruin the moment.
"You can hear again, can't you?" he announces, cutting off the song mid-chorus.
"What? No." Warmth spreads across my cheeks as I realize that in my answer, I've outed my lie.
He glances at me, the light of the sunset glinting against the piercings in his face. "For how long?"
"I don't know ... Only, like, five minutes or so ..." I pull a guilty face. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything. It's just ... your singing made me feel calmer than I have in a while."
He slows down, whirls around, and walks backward in front of me. "You know, if someone else had spied on me while I was singing, I'd probably put them in a headlock."
I slow down before I run into him. "Are you going to put me in a headlock?"
"You don't sound the slightest bit afraid of the idea," he says with a cock of his brow.
I sigh dramatically. "I thought we already established that I'm not afraid of you, just like you're apparently not afraid of me."
He comes to a stop in front of two large, rusted trucks. "I'm not."
"I'm starting to believe you." I halt in front of him and fiddle with the zipper of my torn jacket. "So maybe you should start believing me when I say I'm not afraid of you."
His muscles flex as he folds his arms, the bronzed metal on his chest a shimmering gold against the fading sunlight. "You still aren't, even after what you heard on the bus?" His eyes are devoid of all emotion, his tone flat, but tension radiates from his body.
"Are you talking about what the Orders said?" I ask, and he nods. "Of course I'm not afraid of you. I don't really care what you are, Blaise, and I'd be a hypocrite if I did."
"You're not worse than me." He sinks down on the hood of a car and stares at a fallen billboard blocking the rustic, beamed entrance to a slender building. "You have no idea of all the stuff I've done ..." His throat muscles work as he swallows hard. "Horrible stuff."
"I could say the same thing to you," I say quietly. "I've seen--and heard--some stuff from my memories that makes me believe I was once an awful person."
His gaze sk
irts to mine, and the pain in his eyes causes my breath to hitch. "Allura ... I've killed people with my bare hands."
I swallow an uneven breath. "I think I have, too. And back on the bus ... when I wanted to ... drink your life ... If I went through with it, I probably would've killed you."
He shakes his head. "No, you wouldn't have."
"You don't know that for sure."
"Yes, I do."
Shame crushes my chest, and I lower my gaze to my feet. "Back when we were in the Forsaken tent ... when I tried to take that guy's life ... I think I once tried to do that when a guy kissed me. I have a feeling I have more memories like that locked away in my head." I glance around the desolate streets. "Maybe while we're in here, they'll come out."
He doesn't utter a word, and his silence makes me extremely nervous.
I start to look at him when he whispers, "I can prove it to you."
Confusion swirls in my mind. "What do you mean?"
An unsteady breath eases from his lips. "I mean, I can prove to you that you won't kill someone, even if you completely and utterly tempted to drink their life."
My perplexity soars. "How?"
His gaze drops to my lips, and he audibly gulps. "By showing you."
One, two, three seconds tick by before what he's saying clicks.
"You want to kiss me?" My squeaky voice is worse than the scraping metal noise that made me go deaf.
His eyes enlarge as he sputters, "We don't have to, if you don't want to." He stands up. "You know what? Forget I said it. I have no damn clue what I'm thinking." He turns his back on me and starts to walk off mumbling, "Ryder was right; I seriously misread people."
Feeling awful, I rush around in front of him. "That's not what I meant." Tiny, erratic breaths rush from my lips as self-doubt and nervousness surges through me. "It's just ... I'm afraid you might be wrong. And that little bit of fear makes me hesitant to try." I reach out and twine our fingers together. "Unless I know that I definitely won't hurt you, I can't take that risk, even if I want to."
He studies me with suspicion. "Are you sure that's not the only reason? Maybe, deep down, you're afraid of me, and you're just realizing it."
"No, that's not it at all," I admit truthfully. Sure, I'm afraid, but of myself, not him. Besides, kissing is ... well, foreign. While my memories are a jigsaw puzzle with tons of missing pieces, I'm almost positive I've never kissed anyone before. Not fully, not without hunger ending it quickly. "I don't want to hurt you--"
His lips collide with mine, silencing whatever I was going to say, and a thick haze instantly clouds my mind as my eyes close.
Kiss ... I'm kissing someone ... Kissing Blaise.
The kiss is rough, reckless, and we're both a bundle of nerves, unsure where to put our hands or what to do with our mouths. But for an unordinary moment, I feel content, at peace, warmth cascading over my body.
His lips are so soft.
He tastes so good.
I want more ...
A spark ignites in my chest; a powerful flame that craves more fuel.
Taste. Drink. Live forever.
I suck in a breath and grasp his arms, obeying the hunger.
No! Don't! a familiar voice screams through my mind. You can't do this to him or yourself!
My eyes snap open, and I start to pull back, but my lips magnetize toward his again, seeking more.
Peace.
So at peace.
I part his lips with my tongue, and a husky noise escapes the back of his throat as his trembling fingers dig into my waist.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
Blaise and I both tense at the same time, and a shiver slithers up my spine. Not the good kind of shiver. It's the foul, sickening, this-is-terribly-bad kind of shiver.
That voice ... I know it.
My heart nearly stops as my mind makes the connection.
The guy who murdered me in my memories.
Chapter 9
The Time Traveler
"Kissing, Allura?" he tsks. "I thought you would've learned your lesson by now."
Blaise and I jerk back at the same time. I start to spin around, but Blaise seizes me by the waist, practically lifts me up, and deposits me on the ground behind him.
"Stay away from her," he snarls with his arms expanded at his sides.
"You act like I'm here to harm her." Amusement dances in the stranger's tone. "Yet, you know nothing about me."
"You're a stranger in a strange world filled with death," Blaise snaps, the veins in his arms bulging. "That's all I need to know."
I stand on my tiptoes and peer over Blaise's shoulder to look at the guy's face, which has been a mystery to me both times we've crossed paths.
He's casually leaning against one of the over-sized trucks with his arms folded across his chest. His black jeans blend in with his black boots, hoodie, and gloves. With the hood drawn over his head and the collar of his jacket pulled over his mouth, I can't see his face, only the shadow of his eyes and nose.
"And how do you know I did it?" I can feel the guy's eyes shift to me. "There you are. I've been waiting for you to show up here again. Although, I figured you'd be alone like you always are. Looks like you learned something new since the last time I killed you."
"Killed?" Blaise bites out the word, stepping forward to charge at the stranger.
"No, don't." I latch onto a belt loop in his jeans and dig my heels into the ground, but Blaise throws his weight forward, and I trip, stumbling after him.
The stranger laughs as we near him. "Relax, Blaise, I'm not going to hurt her right now."
Blaise screeches to an abrupt stop, causing me to plow into him. My cheek smacks against his back, and my palms splay his sides as I steady my balance. Blaise hardly notices the contact, his muscles barely spasm.
"How do you know my name?" he asks. When the guy doesn't answer, his fingers curl into fists at his sides. "Who are you?"
"Why don't you ask Allura?" the stranger taunts. "I bet she's dying to tell you."
I move up next to Blaise with my shoulders squared, but my stomach clenches with trepidation. "I don't know who you are, either."
He mumbles, "Must we go through this every single time?"
Blaise glances at me with his brows furrowed and mouths, "What's going on?"
I shrug. I want to tell him about how I saw the guy twice in my memories, but I'm unsure if I should say this in front of the stranger.
As if sensing my need for secrecy, Blaise presses two fingers to the corner of my eye, keeping his gaze secured on the stranger.
Okay, what's going on? he asks. Who is this guy?
I'm not sure. I glance at the stranger from the corner of my eye and find him observing us with curiosity. I've seen him in my memories twice. Once he was dragging me to my death, and the other, he ... I bottle down my nerves. He killed me.
Blaise snarls with anger flaring in his eyes.
He knew I'd come back to life, I quickly add. He said he killed me a ton of times, but I always came back ... And that the Grim couldn't get ahold of me. Then lives and worlds would be destroyed.
But they've already gotten ahold of you.
I know ... And maybe that's why your world was destroyed. The thought throat punches me from out of nowhere, and I suck in a startled breath. Oh, my God, I think I ruined your planet.
Blaise hastily shakes his head. No, there's no way. It happened way before you or I were born.
I steal a glance at the guy, questioning if he can somehow hear our conversation. Go ahead, his body posture teases. Tell him.
I return my focus back on Blaise, guilt clutching my throat. Can I do it? Can I tell him what I heard the guy say in the memory?
Allura, you can tell me anything, Blaise says, reminding me that he can hear every single one of my thoughts. I won't judge you. I'd be a hypocrite if I did.
With my lips smashed together, I suck in a steady breath through my nose. In one of my memories, the guy said he had
n't seen me for over a century, which would make me much older than I look. Maybe old enough to have been around when the Grim ruined your planet.
How can that be possible? Blaise keeps a neutral expression, but I can feel his pulse thundering in his fingertips.
I shrug. Maybe it has something to do with my rapid healing rate. Maybe it makes me age slower, too.
I didn't mean your age. I meant, how can the Grim getting ahold of you ruin our planet, especially since, when they had you, all they did was lock you in a cell and let the occasional visitor feed off you? He shakes his head. No, I'm not buying it. This guy ... He glares at the stranger. He's lying.
"You think so?" the guy questions with a hint of hilarity.
The air electrifies with piercing tension as reality slaps me hard across the face.
He could hear our entire telepathic conversation?
"You're a Forbidden," Blaise states, his hand falling to his side.
"Nope." The stranger straightens and takes a deliberate step toward us. "But I do have some of your abilities."
"How is that possible?" Blaise moves his arm in front of me possessively as the man takes another step closer. "That's close enough."
The guy dares another step before pausing. "So protective of her." His gaze skirts to me. "If you knew her whole story, you might not be."
"Doubtful." Blaise doesn't budge. "Now, are you going to tell us why you're here and how you know us? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?"
The guy wags his finger at us. "Such violence. I forgot you were like that."
"Tell me how you know me," Blaise says threateningly. "I sure as hell can't remember you."
"Oh, that's because you haven't met me yet," he replies simply. "But one day you will."
Blaise hesitates. "How have we never met, yet you know me?"
"Because I've met you already ..." He tugs his collar down just far enough that we can see the smirk on his face. "In the future."
"If you've met us in the future, then that would make you a ..." Blaise drifts off, struggling for an answer.
"Time traveler." The answer falls off my tongue absentmindedly. I stand taller, moving around Blaise's arm. I inch toward the man, but Blaise latches on to the hem of my jacket, forcing me to stay back. "You're a time traveler, and so am I."
His smile broadens as he shakes his head. "No, you're not, sweetheart. And this is a conversation we've had many, many times before."
Oblivion Page 6
