Dahlia (Blood Crave Series) (19 page)

Although Greyson seemed the exact same, so maybe it was a fallen angel thing.

“Here we are.”

They pulled up into Meg’s driveway and they both got out of the car as the boys pulled up behind them shortly after. Deacon rushed out from the passenger seat and pulled Dahlia into his long arms as he twirled her around, leaving her breathless. As he settled her back on her feet, she laughed loudly as Sam caught her eye and slyly winked.

“I think someone has a crush.”

Dahlia hit Sam roughly on the arm. “Shut up.”

Lee and Taylor stepped out of the car with the former slamming Deacon’s door shut, rolling his eyes to himself. He then waved hello in Dahlia’s direction while Taylor nodded his head. Taylor’s greeting was better than having none at all, so she accepted both acknowledgments by waving in return. The group then walked into Meg’s house, settling down in the living room.

Sam crashed into one of the sofas as he made himself comfortable. “So, Meg, where are your parents? They’re always away when I come for a visit.”

“They’re on a business trip.” She looked toward Dahlia to explain further. “My parents work together as corporate real estate agents. They’re always traveling across the country.”

Meg shrugged, a huge smile displayed on her lips. “At least I get the house to myself a lot. It just means more parties.”

“Well, Dahlia and I will be joining the club with no parental supervision.”

Dahlia looked over at Sam in surprise at his comment. “What do you mean by that?”

He had his hands rested at the back of his head, eyes closed as if he were peacefully resting. They remained closed as he answered, “The parents decided to go on a spontaneous boat cruise. We’ll have the place to ourselves for one whole week.”

Dahlia found it strange Glen and Deb hadn’t mentioned any cruise. Then she felt guilty that she wasn’t spending as much time with them with everything going on. She promised to rectify that once she and Sam got home.

She looked over to see Sam up from his supine position, playing a video game against Deacon on the large flat screen television. He gestured widely with his hands as he held the remote control, refusing to be beat by the super athlete Deacon, eyes dancing in delight. She grinned to herself as she turned to see Meg and Lee talking quietly in the corner, her dark head and his blond head bent together. She wondered if the two were in a relationship and thought the pair made a cute couple. She briefly wondered why Meg didn’t mention anything about it earlier.

As Dahlia mulled over this, she suddenly felt eyes drilling into her. She looked up to see Taylor just blatantly staring at her. She felt super uncomfortable by the look in his light brown eyes, a blank expression on his face. She glanced around the room but everyone else seemed oblivious to her discomfort as they each paid her no mind. Flustered, she accidentally knocked over a glass of orange juice as it spilled all over the front of her white t-shirt.

“Crap,” Dahlia muttered as she quickly placed the glass upright, looking at the mess on her top. She really needed to take a breather.

“Hey, Meg?”

She looked up from her conversation with Lee. “Yes?” She finally noticed the mess currently wearing Dahlia as she chuckled lightly. “Oh, what a mess you’ve made.”

Dahlia laughed in return, blushing slightly. “Yeah, sorry about that. Um, where’s your washroom?”

“Just down the hall to your left. You can’t miss it.” Meg pointed toward a corridor that was behind Dahlia.

“Thanks.”

She quickly got up and walked down the hallway to the washroom. Closing the door shut, she quickly turned on the pipes as she grabbed the bottom of her shirt, scrubbing to get the stain out. Inspecting her shirt, Dahlia was satisfied that she finally got all the juice out, although now there was a large water stain. Reaching for the soap, she lathered up her hands then rinsed them clean. She was just about to reach to turn off the pipes when—

“What?”

Dahlia looked down to see that her hands were fixed and unable to move from their current position. She looked on in shock as she saw what was preventing her from moving. The water that had flowed smoothly down the drain was now floating, suspended in air, wrapped around her wrists like shackles. She struggled to break free, but was unable to budge from the grip of the water tightly binding her wrists.

Just as she was about to call out, another string of water came up and wrapped itself around Dahlia’s throat, cutting her voice off. It squeezed tightly, causing her to moan in pain as she struggled to breathe. It reminded her of her nightmares as a child, those vines too, wrapping around her slim neck. Eyes tightly squeezed shut, a tear slowly rolled down her face as she began to feel lightheaded.

Then all of a sudden, she heard a faint voice inside her head.

You can fight it, Dahlia. Just concentrate.

Dahlia held on to that encouraging voice as she focused on those words. She thought of the one thing that always kept her calm, the effortless breeze of the wind. There was a moment of stillness in the room and then, suddenly, a gust of wind flowed from her as it dissipated all of the water at once, soaking everything in sight. Able to breathe, Dahlia took in a deep, shaky breath as she looked around in stunned silence at the mess, clutching her suddenly free neck.

She, and everything else in the washroom, was  completely soaked.

Dahlia looked down to see that the tap of water was still running and quickly reached to turn it off, hands shaking uncontrollably. She glanced up at herself in the mirror as she gazed in shock as her normally hazel eyes looking back at her were glowing brilliantly as if a light was shining behind them. Her eyes slowly dimmed until they were back to her normal hue.

She sat down on the toilet seat as she dropped her head in her hands, still trembling over the course of power that just flew through her and the fact was she had almost been killed by psychotic water.

What was going on here?

It was too long to be in the washroom without drawing suspicion from others. Dahlia quickly went to work by cleaning up, drying all of the wet surfaces as much as she could, and attempting to make sure everything was back in place. Her clothes and hair were obviously still wet so she grabbed a towel that hung on the rack. She rubbed it aggressively against her head and wet strands, eager to get as much of the water out.

She glanced back into mirror feeling that she looked relatively decent, although still damp. Her hair hung in wisps around her face, a few strands still stuck to her cheeks. Giving a final sigh to compose herself, she walked back into the living room, stopping everyone in their tracks as they took in her appearance.

Sam’s eyes widened as he spoke up first. “What the hell happened to you?”

Dahlia felt she was becoming great at acting. Perhaps she should have signed up for the class. She tried not to let them see how shaken up she was as she attempted a grin, glancing over at Meg sheepishly. “I seem to have had a problem with your faucet.”

She quickly continued as she saw the alarm grow on Meg’s face, along with everyone else’s. “Don’t worry. Your washroom is perfectly safe. I’m the one who lost that battle,” she ended with a small laugh, which sounded false even to her own ears. Her fingers fidgeted with her wet shirt plastered against her torso as she looked down at her clothes, hoping they didn’t comment on her strange demeanor.

“Oh,” Meg said delicately as she eyed Dahlia’s wet clothes, flicking her bangs away from her face, her nose slightly twitching as if holding in a sneeze. She got up from her seat. “Wait here. I’ll get something dry for you to wear.”

“No, that’s okay,” Dahlia said hurriedly, walking toward the front entrance. If she didn’t get out of here,
right now
, she was going to lose her mind. “There’s actually somewhere I need to be.”

“You’re leaving already?” Deacon protested with a pout, dark brown eyes staring at her earnestly. “We’ve haven’t even played against each other.”

“Next time, Deacon,” Dahlia said as her lips attempted to smile again then hastily slipped on her shoes.

“Let me drive you,” Sam said getting up from the couch.

“No,” Dahlia protested, instantly halting his movements. He looked toward her in surprise and Dahlia could practically see his brain cells working in overdrive at her sudden odd behavior. “I know it’s a long walk, but I’m in the mood for some fresh air. Plus the sun’s out, so it will help dry my clothes. Enjoy yourselves, guys.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” Dahlia gushed back at Meg. It was strange hearing herself sound so animated despite the way she felt. “Next time I promise I’ll stay longer.” She smiled toward Lee, who grinned in return, but whose blue eyes looked a bit unconvinced behind his thick-framed glasses. She even beamed at Taylor, who still hadn’t moved from his initial spot on the floor.

He was a tough one to crack.

“I really hope so, Dahlia.”

She barely heard the last comment from Meg as she quickly slipped on her shoes and stepped outside, walking as fast as she could toward her destination as she left behind the image of her most recent attack.

It was definitely time to see Greyson.

Chapter 17

“Greyson.”

At the sound of his name, Greyson looked up from the fireplace to see Dahlia standing near the entranceway. The walk had taken over an hour, as she had to figure out how to get to the forest from Meg’s place. Her clothes had dried substantially, but her hair was still in disarray around her head.

“You came back.” He immediately stood up, the surprise in his voice apparent. He was kind not to make any remarks about her disheveled appearance as his eyes took her in.

Dahlia in return cleared her throat as she fiddled with her hair, suddenly feeling nervous. “It’s just like I said before, Greyson. I just needed some time to think.” No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t stay away from him. She was beginning to think that she really did need him, at least, if she wanted to protect herself.

“Do you suddenly trust me now?” he inquired looking down at her, both brows raised as if he didn’t believe her words.

She ignored his question and stepped closer to him as she said candidly, “Look, I was just about strangled to death by water. Water! Do you know how crazy that sounds? Then you were suddenly inside my head and helped me.”

“It’s just like I told you. I don’t want to see you hurt, Dahlia.” His eyes glanced back to the fireplace as if he were suddenly afraid to look at her. “I would have come for you if I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“But some unknown fallen angels want me dead. I’ve had three attacks on my life in the past week.”

Greyson clenched his jaw as he replied. “Yes. To them, you’re tainted with the blood of the lamia. You should never have been born.”

“Thanks,” she said rather dryly.

He glanced quickly up at her. “You know I don’t think of you that way. We should hate each other for what I am—what you are. But I don’t.”

Dahlia didn’t say anything for a moment and just continued to look at Greyson’s forlorn face. She noticed that he had barely there freckles scattered lightly over his cheekbones, like Meg. Although, looking at Greyson, it made her want nothing more than to reach out and touch his face. Totally unlike Meg. She tried hiding her smile at the cuteness of his freckles, how irritated he sounded over the fact that he didn’t hate her. She also didn’t mention that she felt a rise in pleasure that he didn’t seem to share the views of these other fallen angels. “Do you know them? The ones who want me killed?”

Greyson shook his head in exasperation. “If I did, this wouldn’t be an issue. They’re very good at hiding. I just know that they are lapsus, maybe older than I am, and they want you dead. My only guess is because they feel you aren’t worthy to live with your lamia blood and they don’t agree with Merrick’s plan on being released. They want him to stay buried.”

“Well, they do have a point.”

“What?” Greyson raised his eyebrows in surprise at her comment.

Dahlia shrugged in return. “Think about it. Merrick’s evil. Besides practically slaughtering an entire race of beings, he experimented on and ended up killing his own people. Then there’s me, the key to Merrick rising again. Who knows what kind of crap he’ll pull if he’s released. They seem to be on the good side, if you ask me.”

“Don’t say that,” Greyson replied in anger. “None of this is your fault. Unfortunately, you’re still a part of it, and right now we need to focus on keeping you alive.”

Dahlia thought back to being at Meg’s earlier when she felt the water slowly tighten around her neck. She absentmindedly stroked her neck, relieved that there was no permanent damage. “What happened in the washroom…is that the same thing like when I was pushed in the forest or that night in the park with the sand?”

Greyson nodded. “Yes. Whoever is harming you is using the elements as their weapon. The lapsus have the ability to communicate with an element—earth, air, fire or water.”

“Air,” Dahlia gasped. She recalled to what she had done in the washroom to prevent herself from being suffocated, dispersing all the water away with the force of the wind. “I have the ability to communicate with air?”

It explained her affinity to the element all her life.

“Yes,” Greyson said with a curt nod as he answered.

Dahlia rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers suddenly feeling exhausted. She gestured toward Greyson. “What about you?”

“Earth. I have a connection with the earth beneath us.”

“That’s why you were able to pull me from out of the sand,” Dahlia noted. She wondered what other things about the lapsus she didn’t know about.

She had a feeling it was plenty.

She looked at him sideways. “With all these powers, it’s almost like we’re witches more than anything.” She gave a small laugh.

Greyson didn’t join her and instead slightly grimaced at her words. “Actually, to the few humans who knew about the lapsus, that’s what they called us—witches. The idea of fallen angels and their offspring existing with abilities was a bit far-fetched for them to believe in. It was easier to think of us as humans with magical powers. The term is not something we particularly care for, however.”

They were both silent as she reflected on his words. Then, “What about my dreams?” she asked suddenly.