Home > Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles #1)(18)

Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles #1)(18)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“Got it.” It comes out as a rasp, but he lets me go. His weight disappears and I cough a few times. Cold oxygen pours back into my body like water. My throat hurts from the pressure and my lungs spasm, trying to get themselves working again.

“What the hell was that for?” I sound like a man when I speak, or like I'd lost my voice. I lunge out to shove him away from me or punch him or hurt him in some way but he moves so fast that I end up digging my face into the ground and getting a mouthful of grass instead. I spit out the dirt and push myself up. The lantern's fallen over and gone out, so I'm in almost complete blackness.

“I told you that you were reckless,” his voice says in my ear. As quick as I can I whip around, but he's gone again. Blindly, I scan for him. The only way I can find where is is the the shush of his clothes as he moves, but that's hard to hear over my insanely pounding heart.

“What the f**k?! I should turn you in for assault,” I say, my voice trembling as much as I am.

“But you won't.” Once again, he's positive. He's accomplished what he wanted. My hurt neck, my trembling hands and my beating heart are all telling me the same thing. Step away from the door of the tiger cage; you've already been bitten once, don't try it again. It makes me think of that old saying they used to put on maps. Here be dragons.

“I will kill you. I want you to know that.” His eyes do that thing again, pulling me in like a fish on a line. Only I don't thrash and struggle for the safety of the rushing river. I let him drag me in like an old boot. “Never forget it. No matter what.” All I can see are his eyes. It's still too dark to see what color they are. Someday, I will see them. If I live that long.

“Well, this has been lovely, but I've got to get home.” I'm trying to hide how freaked out I am. I've never met anyone like him. So... without emotion. I almost forget the fallen lantern and trip on it when I get up. Great, it's broken, which is not my biggest problem right now.

“Goodbye, Ava.” His voice is close, but I can't find it. The lantern bangs hard against my leg as I start walking back to my car. Fast.

I don't say it back.

I'm shaking so hard by the time I make it, I can't get my key in the door.

“Come on, come on.” I have the distinct floaty feeling of shock. I need to get away, right now. I fling myself and the lantern into the driver's side, shutting and locking my door, wishing I had automatic locks.

My stupid Honda doesn't want to start. “Come on, you jackass.” My voice still sounds funny from my damaged throat. God, was I going to have bruises? Try explaining that to the parents. I fell down wasn't going to cut it.

Finally, the ignition catches and I slam out of the parking space.

I'm so lost in driving that I nearly hit a deer on my way home. If it wasn't for the glowing eyes in my headlights, I would have hit it. Then I'd really go into shock. I slam on my brakes and wait for the deer to cross the road, two others behind it. I sit there in the middle of the road for what feels like hours, making sure they don't come darting back. They have a tendency to do that. Going right back into the path of danger, like me.

My neck is hot. I turn on the internal light, cringing at the red marks that are blooming already. Shit. I'm so screwed.

***

I nearly killed her. It would have been so easy. Her neck would have snapped with a simple twist of my fingers. I could have fed without her dying face watching me. I liked it better when they were still alive. The struggle was like a drug to me. It was not my intention to kill her. Only to make her understand a little about what I was. I had met people before that didn't fear me. Usually, I ended up killing them. I didn't want to kill her, so I filled her with that fear. Used the power I had to make my victim run and scream so I could chase them. Increase the excitement in the hunt. Not for her.

I looked down at her, counted the breaths that no longer filled her lungs because I blocked them.

There was nothing else I could have done. I had to scare her. She watched me the entire time, making me even more excited. Her air swished over me as I squeezed her lungs with my body. Being this close to a living person made me want her so much I couldn't even see anything else.

I pushed harder on her windpipe. Her skin turned white and gray. Her eyes bulged and I saw that she believed me. Saw that I could kill her. Understood, on some level, what I was. I let up and she got out two words. I stopped.

She coughed and sputtered, an engine starting up again. Her body struggled to get itself back to its normal state. It took her several seconds to be able to speak. Her body shook, and I smelled the fear on her, making her scent dark and delicious. As if I was a troublesome creature she wanted to punish, she tried to catch me. I moved away, watching her. She was interesting, for a human. If my past experiences were correct, she should have screamed and run away. She did not.

I told her she was reckless. There was something about her, something that glittered like the blade of a knife. Something sharp that would only flash out when it was needed and stay folded up and hidden the rest of the time, ready to snap and cut. She hadn't used it with me, but she might. It would surprise both of us.

***

The first thing I do when I get home is lock all the doors and windows and curse myself for telling him my name. No, I'm not reckless. I'm just freaking stupid. Really dumb. Award-winningly foolish. I want to slam myself in the forehead for my folly. Instead I sit on my bed, trying to figure out how I'm going to pretend like nothing happened when my parents wake up tomorrow. Figure out how I'm going to cover up the marks that look exactly like what they are. Fingerprints. For the second time in less than a month, I've almost had the life choked out of me.

Frantic, I search my scant make-up kit for anything thick enough to slather over the marks. I really need Tex. She's the hickey-hiding queen. No, I have to tackle this on my own. I've gotten myself into this. No need to drag anyone else down. This is my complete and total mess.

No matter how much I try, the make-up won't blend enough so that it doesn't look like I've smeared it on my neck by accident to cover a bruise I don't want anyone to see. To my closet I go, trying to make as little noise as I can while I'm tearing through piles of shoes and random books and myriad other things to find that scarf my Aunt Jenny had given me for my last birthday.

She's my dad's sister and the two are as opposite from each other as day old white bread is from my mother's raspberry and white chocolate swirled fudge. Guess which one my dad is. Speaking of Aj, I have an e-mail waiting in my inbox from her that I have yet to respond to. I knew she could smell a lie, even when that lie is typed. We emailed nearly every week, and she'll freak if I don't answer her soon. One more thing I have to worry about. One more person to lie to. I haven't told her about Mom. Well, she knows about the cancer, but she doesn't know about the most recent development. I'm not going to be the one to enlighten her.

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