Page 7 of Wicked Ties
“Where are you going?” My head snapped up at the sound of his rough whisky voice. There he was—the boy who loved me. Or loved her, the girl I used to be.
He gazed at me with his deep and knowing emerald eyes. They held such sadness each time he looked at me. Yet he tried to hide it behind his unwavering devotion and never-ending snacks. The question was, was that devotion for me or the old Tilly, who seemed like a bottle of sunshine and sass? I remembered the thrill she got from making him smile . . . did I feel that same thrill? No. Could I make him smile? Also, no.
I turned around and sat down on my bed, watching him move. There was something about the way he walked, as though at any moment he was going to attack. He reached out soundlessly and held a bag toward me that smelled like heaven on fire and deep fried. Mine. My arm shot out, and I grabbed it before I could even track my own movements. The bag tore under my strength and dropped a pile of food in my lap. Hot steaming fries covered in oil, and a meaty burger with melting cheese seeped into my pants and burned my skin.
“Shit.” I plucked a fry off my lap and shoved it in my mouth. “This is breakfast?”
“Of champions.”
He reached forward, scooping the food into his hands and shoveling it back into what was left of the bag. I sat motionless, letting his hands run over my thighs and felling his fingers brush against me. He peeked up at me with those hypnotic eyes, and I wanted to feel what I knew he felt for her, the Tilly I used to be. She was connected to him, tied in a way that made me want to stay close to him even though I didn’t know what to do with it. All I knew was that next to him, the world felt like peace, even though he was the least peaceful person I ever met. His mind was chaotic. His eyes flashed from emerald to white and back again constantly. He was half here and half in another world, in another time. People feared him for the power he held . . . they should. Yet, beside him I felt . . . quiet . . . and nothing else.
“So, you’re leaving?” The food made a wet slapping sound as it hit the bottom of the paper bag. Maze shook out his hand, flicking bits of cheesy burger and glorious fries onto the dorm room floor. Odin, that creepy one-eyed cat, hopped from the bed and began to lick it all up, leaving nothing behind.
“Yes.” Even my voice sounded odd. It was cold, deep, and sultry. It was a voice I didn’t recognize as hers, or my own.
He chuckled and studied his cheese-covered hand.
I didn’t know what made me do it, but I reached out and grabbed his finger and pulled it to my mouth, sucking the delicious goodness off it. I closed my eyes, savoring the flavor. Something inside me barely stirred, barely moved. Yet, I felt . . . Felt her.
His eyes flashed, and he pulled his finger from my mouth with a little popping sound. He cleared his throat and shifted back from me as he dropped down onto his bed on the opposite side of the room. “Here, you can have mine.”
Interesting. Over the days, I noted Maze didn’t like to share food. Yet he did so with me, freely. Was this some kind of bonding I was missing? Or did he simply desire to care for her, the one I was supposed to be?
“No, thanks.”
He waved the bag toward me. “It’s okay. I’m not hungry.”
I scoffed. “Lies.”
At that he gave a light chuckle. “Well, maybe a little.”
“You feed constantly.”
“Also, true.” He shrugged and motioned to the bag beside me. “Where you going?”
“To find my soul.” I shoved a final bite in my mouth and rose to my feet, brushing the rest of the food off my lap and onto the floor, where Odin feasted on our leftovers. I turned to the closet and grabbed one of Maze’s sweatshirts.
Maze watched me grab it but didn’t stop me. “Want some company?”
I rolled my eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
Maze took the sweatshirt from my hand and shoved it in the bag for me. “You know me well.”
Did I want to be the Tilly they all so clearly wanted and kept me around for? What was she anyway? Her memories swarmed my mind, memories of scheming with Astrid, flirting with Maze, and wanting to be a part of something more. Was I a part of something now? When I look around this small room with two beds, I know the answer . . . NO.
I wanted more. I wanted all of it, or at least I thought I did. There was only one thing left to do . . . leave. Maybe with him. It’d be better with him then to work against him. Inevitably, he would follow. So why fight the tide? “Can I ask you something?”
He stared down at me. “Anything.”
“Why did you do this to me . . . turn me into a demon? Why not just let me die?”
Maze’s shoulders sagged and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, the pain was plain on his face. “You were dying, and I couldn’t let that happen. I thought Odin was a friendly demon and you might be, too. We needed the power to save you. You weren’t awake. You didn’t see. We all tried a million different ways. Magic and medicine. You were too far gone, too injured. But we all, you know, love you and wanted you to be okay.”
I knew they wanted me to be okay, and I knew they wanted me to be healthy. If I was in their position, would I have done the same thing? Yes, even now I would try to save any one of them. But there was something I didn’t understand about any of this. “Then why have I been so attached to you? Even as the demon, I felt a pull. I don’t understand it. We barely know each other.”
Maze shrugged, but his eyes grew intense. “Fate, I suppose.”
When he didn’t say anything more, I just nodded. I felt like he was hiding something from me, but what? How do I ask if he’s lying without calling him a flat-out liar? I grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder.
