Soulless (The Heartless Series Book 2) (16 page)

I don’t know if he’s asking if I’m fine to ask or if he’s asking to let me know that he isn’t reading my mind and is, in effect, a standup guy now.

My head hurts.

“I’m fine.” I snort, thinking about all the times I told Tina the exact same thing. I wonder if she’s okay. I should check my phone and see if she’s sent me any more messages. I’ve gone from talking to her two or three times a day to nothing in at least three. If she doesn’t send out the National Guard, I’ll be shocked.

Unless she thinks I’m mad at her…

Or lost my mind.

Or don’t care about her anymore.

“You aren’t fine,” Hart says in the way that Sam would have said. It’s hard to control my feelings about it, mainly because Hart was Sam. Sam never was. And I loved him. I loved Sam so much. So that means, in a small way… a very small… very tiny way that I refuse to even really believe, I love Hart. Or some small part of Hart. The part of him that pretended to be Sam.

Everything is so jumbled in my head: exhaustion, exhilaration from the wreck, fear, anger, rage, love. All of it. I need some time alone. I looked forward to my own room so I could think or run away. One or the other. Now, thanks to the pumpkins, I’m stuck in here with Hart.

Funny how a few months ago, heck a few weeks ago, I would’ve jumped at this chance. I wanted him to be close to me, and I couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t be. Why he wouldn’t do anything but kiss me…

I kissed Hart Blackwell.

I need a drink.

“Sorry, but you have no right to tell me what I am.” I huff. There has to be another place to sleep. It’s just one night. I can sleep on the floor if I have to.

He sighs and leans back against the pillows. He flinches as he stretches, and I wonder how much damage the car wreck did to him. Between the car crash and giving me his blood, I imagine he can’t be doing too well. I shouldn’t care. And I don’t…

I don’t.

“We are back to this, eh?” He shuts his eyes, and my stomach knots.

I don’t want to deal with this or think about it. Sleep. I want sleep, and some time alone to figure out what I need to do. It’s not like I can run with him in the same room with me. And it’s not like I can go see my mother. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to hurt anybody.

I have a feeling I’ll hurt a lot of people if things keep going on this track.

I can’t take it. Literally can’t take it.

It’s all too much. My head feels like it’s going to explode, and my body gives out. I’ve been through too much for anybody in the last three days. Hell, the last eighteen years. And I can’t… I can’t…

My body gives out, and I fall to the bed in a huff. The springs creak under me, and I cringe. I’m so done.

I think I’ve freaked Hart out because I can feel him sitting up behind me. He leans back until his back is to the headboard—a heart-shaped one, mind you—and we are very quiet for what seems like an eternity.

When I say quiet, I mean it in the non-talking sense. In reality, my head, the voices in there, are very loud.

I’m so freakin’ tired.

“It won’t be much longer,” he says. I don’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or me. “I promise. Everything will work out.”

“Yeah,” I scoff. “Either I’ll be dead or destroy the world.”

“You can’t die,” he says. I think he’s a liar. He wouldn’t have tried so hard to save me if I couldn’t die.

“I don’t believe you.” There. I admit it. “I believe I can die, and you are just telling me that so I won’t… so I won’t find some way to end all of this.”

Before the words are chilled on my lips, Hart has me by the shoulders. He’s kneeling in front of me, and his eyes—those pretty eyes with the little flecks of red—are staring a hole into my soul. If I still have one…

“Gracen Sullivan, you stop that. Stop it right now. You’re not going to die. The world would not be better off without you. Do you understand me?”

I stare back at him, trying to figure him out. Then I decide there’s no way. “Why do you care?”

He opens his mouth like he wants to confess his soul, and then he shuts it and lets me go as quickly as he grabbed me. He’s up by the heart partition in front of the door and has his fingers laced together in his hair. His back is to me. I’ve said the wrong thing, obviously. I’m not taking it back. Why would he care about me? Wouldn’t the world be better off if I were dead?

Wouldn’t we all?

“Don’t.” His voice is so low and deep I almost don’t understand what he said.

“Don’t what? Don’t care about the world? Don’t care that I might destroy it? That I more than likely will? I wish I could die, Hart. I wish I died in that cave or in that wreck, and I wish I could die now. If I could, I would… and you know it!”

Hart’s lips crash into mine so forcefully it knocks me backwards. I have to catch myself on the headboard and put my hands on his chest to push him away. He wraps his fingers around my hair and fixes my lips to his. Hungry. Needy. He kisses me. Nothing like Sam used to. This is full of something Sam never had—I just can’t place what.

I push hard enough for him to let me go, and without a second to think, I slap him so hard across the cheek that it echoes in the tiny, honeymoon suite at the Darby Motel.

I’m breathing heavy.

He’s breathing heavy.

His eyes are wild as he backs away from me. His hand is firmly placed on his reddening cheek.

I’m not sorry I did that. He never should have… what was he thinking?

I stare at him, willing him to speak first and tell me what the hell was going on? What in that conversation made him think I wanted him to kiss me?

His nostrils flare just a bit before he heads toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I yell. My voice sounds hoarse in my ears, and I wish it didn’t. Strong. I want to be strong. I want to be… I want to be home with Sam, watching TV. I want my life back to normal, or a better normal than it was. I want so much. I want to not destroy the world—is that too much to ask?

He hesitates with his hand on the door. He doesn’t look at me, but he does speak. “You need food. Real food. I need a break. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t do anything stupid. You can’t die, Gracen. Accept it and don’t try anything stupid.”

With that, he walks out the door. I expect it to slam. Heck, even I would’ve slammed it. Instead it slightly closes, and I let out a huge breath.

Alone.

Alone at last.

Time to sit and think.

I need to figure out what I’m going to do about my mother. I should run away or something, anything to keep from having to go there. And I need to get away from Hart.

When he kissed me… I don’t know. Yes, it was forceful and really badly timed, but there was something to it… wasn’t there? Why would he even think to do it in the first place?

The familiar smell of demon blood rips through my nose and my mouth instantly waters. I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever get used to that. I reach up and rub my lips, my thumb turns crimson.

Blood.

My blood.

Hart must have bit my lip.

Did he want to kiss me that bad, or was something else going on?

It takes everything I have not to put my thumb back to my lips or to run my tongue over the warm red liquid on my mouth. I don’t want to want it, and it kills me on the inside to think I need it.

What would happen if I didn’t drink it?

Really, the blood is the only reason I stay with Hart. He has demon blood, and obviously I need it. Seems logical. What if I didn’t need it? Would I still stay with him? Would I follow him blindly to my mother’s—a place I do not want to go?

Stupid vision….

No. Not vision. Dream. It was a stupid dream. A vision would imply that it would happen for real, and it won’t. It won’t. I’ll make sure it won’t.

He won’t be gone long, so I have to make my decision quick. Stay and get all the blood I need, but have to go to my mother’s and try to figure out what’s going on between Hart and me, or leave. Simple. Easy. Plain as that. Just leave. Just go and never look back. Go and see what happens. I could disappear into the woods somewhere. Find a cabin. Not let anybody in. Not hurt anybody.

I could.

It would be the best option.

The best for the world, in my opinion.

With no time to think about it anymore, I get up and head to the back sliding door of our lovely room. I check to make sure Hart isn’t standing out there, testing me or anything. It would be something he’d definitely do. When I’m convinced I don’t see him, I head back and grab my bag. I only have one small duffle. Nothing big. We both tossed our bloody and, in his case, hole-filled clothes in the dumpsters behind some grocery store on highway 80 on the outside of town, so I don’t have to worry with those.

I have everything I own in this bag. Everything I care about—material wise. I made sure to pick it up when we left, when Hart was downstairs pouting that we needed to hurry and go.

I grabbed my picture album, my favorite t-shirt that was two sizes too small now, and my favorite stuffed animal—the one Sam won for me.

Not sure why I picked it. I just did. I grabbed it and threw it into my bag with every pair of pants and long-sleeved shirts I own, along with a coat. Thankfully, Hart saw none of that when he threw me some clothes back at the wreck. Maybe he was in too big of a hurry. Maybe he didn’t want to see. Whatever the case, he didn’t see it. I’m thankful for that.

It’s nice to be thankful for something.

I contemplate leaving a note. He did save my life, after all. Okay, yeah, tortured me for years in my dreams and drove my aunt crazy, but saved my life. He’s taken care of me for as long as I can remember. I do owe him, even if I don’t want to admit it.

I do care about what happens to him.

Even though I’ll never tell him that.

I may never admit it to myself either.

What kind of person would that make me if I…

Nope. No. I’m not thinking that. I’m getting the hell out of Dodge while the getting is good. I’m gone… I’m gone.

I make it all the way to the sliding door when, out of nowhere really, I get this thought in my head.
What’s he been hiding?

Now, I imagine he’s been hiding a lot of things. He’s evil after all. The little voice becomes louder, almost nagging, until I can’t control it anymore. I need to know.

His bag.

Are these my thoughts or someone else’s? Can someone else even be in my mind?

I don’t know. All I know is that the feeling, the worry, the nagging feeling that is inside my mind, inside my soul—if I have one—won’t let me go. It’s like, I don’t know, like an anxiety attack is coming over me. Like something I can’t control. I want to control it, but I can’t.

It isn’t like the other things that have happened today. My God, has it only been one day? I threw Hart against the wall. I slowed down time. I sped up time. I stopped the freakin’ car from being in a car wreck. I don’t know how I’m doing any of this, but I am, and I’m wondering if there’s a reason. If this feeling is part of it? Because if it is, it’s getting stronger and stronger. My heart is pounding louder and louder. Instead of seeing the red tunnel vision, I see him.

Not Hart.

Seth.

Smirking.

Standing outside my little honeymoon hotel of paradise. He’s smiling and waving like he did in the alley with my mother.

I can see him, but I can’t. Not really. My window doesn’t even open in that direction. I can see him. I can feel him.

I shut my eyes to block him out. It’s just another vision. Another dream. Something. He’s not real. It’s not…

Look.

I hear again. More than hear. I can feel it. It vibrates my insides, the darkest parts of my long gone heart.

It’s singing to me.

Whatever is in Hart’s bag is singing to me.

Not with words. It has more of a high-pitched melody. Something that causes me to put my hands over my ears and squint my eyes. It hurts. The sound hurts. Why hadn’t I heard it before? Why didn’t I notice it before?

Look
.

The voice won’t leave me alone.

The ringing echoes through my head, threatening to make it explode.

I need whatever it is. I need the singing to stop.

I throw my bag on the floor and run to Hart’s. I slide next to it and open it up, digging through all the clothes and other things I don’t want to know about until I get to the bottom.

The very last thing.

Slowly, I pull it out as the ringing eases in my mind. It’s like it’s home. Like it wanted me to find it.

From the corner of my eye, I see Seth standing next to the small table by the door. When I blink, he’s gone… if he was ever there in the first place.

Forgetting I ever thought about leaving, I lean with my back against the bedframe and sit with my legs crossed. He knew all along… he knew! Even when I begged him for answers, he hid it like he didn’t know anything.

This is what Hart’s been hiding. This is why he knows all that stuff about me, about being the Abomination. All of it.

Because he had the damn manual.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

HART

T
HERE ARE SOME THINGS IN LIFE
that you do even when you don’t want to do it. It’s the same in the afterlife. It’s especially true when you are a demon with your humanity. When you are a demon with an evil angel as a semi-ally.

When you are a demon who needs his brother back.

When you are a demon who does things to make that happen.

She’ll hate me. I know she will. Hell, I hate myself for what I’ve done, who I’ve helped.

I hate myself period.

So when I go back into that hotel room and she confronts me, I know that whatever we had, however brief, will be over. If she hated me before, she will more than hate me now.

I knew it when I left. When I was ordered to leave. I knew it would be the last opportunity to kiss her, so I did. I’ve wanted to for so long, wanted to as Hart. Not Sam… not that I don’t like Sam. I miss him. He had it easy. Human life. Human girl. Human football scholarship—with superhuman abilities.

It isn’t the same though. From the moment she found out about me, I wanted her to really look at me. Not as the thing in her nightmares but as a… I don’t know. That’s the truth. I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to be to Gracen or if I could ever be or if I even have the right to think it. All I know is that Seth whispered in my mind that it was time, so I kissed her while I could.