Page 6 of Illusory

“Now,” gritted Trace and then stormed out of the room, apparently ready to get this over and done with yesterday.

Gabriel bounced a quick wary look between his brother and I and then hurried out of the room after him.

The burn under my lids had finally reached its breaking point as tears sprang free from my eyes in thick, warm streaks of despair. If I had any doubt before, it was crystal clear to me now:

Trace Macarthurloathedme with every fiber of his being.

2. BROKEN HEARTS STILL BEAT

Dominic cleared his throat, the sound of it jolting me out of my self-deprecating pity-party-for-one and reminding me that I wasn’t alone. At least not in the physical sense. Mentally though, I felt as though I’d been cast off on a deserted island with nothing to hold onto but a pair of worthless wings and the scathing scarlet letter of a walking pariah.

Swatting away the tears under my eyes, I turned and faced him as he brought his glass to his lips and took a long, unhurried sip from his drink. His dark, probing eyes roved over each of my features, scrutinizing me as though he could see into my soul and know everything that I was feeling in that moment.Seeingme andexposingme within the very same breath. It was both comforting and unnerving in equal parts.

“He hates me.”

“He’ll get over it,” he answered easily, his gaze never leaving mine as he set the glass down on the coffee table between us and then leaned back against the lounge chair. He seemed entirely too calm and unbothered considering the hell storm that was currently pouring down all around us.

“Seriously, Dominic?He’ll get over it?”I repeated, stunned at his casual demeanor and nonchalance. How was he not getting the severity of this? “I ended his life!”

“Youextendedhis life,” he corrected, crossing his leg over his knee.

“Well, I’m gladyouthink so but I’m pretty sure Trace is never going to see it that way.”

“Because he’s a simpleton?”

“He’s not a simpleton,” I answered heatedly. “He’s just…he’s not the same as you.”

“Exactly.” His mouth curved into a grin. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

“No. It’s—we’re not saying the same thing!” I snapped and then shook my head, mostly at myself for even entertaining this discussion.

He knew as well as I did that Trace never wanted this life for himself. He didn’t seek it out the way Dominic had. He didn’t choose this for himself the way Dominic had. They would never see it the same way. Frankly, they’d never seen eye to eye on anything in the entirety of their lives. Why should they start now?

“Just forget it,” I grumbled as I walked back to the couch and then dropped down onto it, folding forward onto my knees. I barely had the energy to think straight anymore let alone to stand there and debate Dominic on the nuts and bolts of Trace’s mind, nor did I need his confirmation to know that what I had done, indirectly or otherwise, was going to come with major consequences.

“If it’s any consolation, the first few days are always the hardest,” he offered lowly, his eyes still fixed on me in a jarring way—probing me as if to see through to the inner workings of my heart. “He’ll feel much better once he gets used to all the new sensations coursing through his body.”

My brows rose. “The new sensations?” I asked, hungry for any morsel of information that might give me hope; for anything that might make this sludge pile of guilt easier to sit with.

“You have to understand the transformation process, angel. It’s not just your appetite that changes,” he said as he stood up and then sauntered over to my side of the living room, casually making his way around the sofa and then stopping directly behind where I was seated. “Your physiology changes too. Each and every one of your sensesare heightened. Sound. Sight. Smell.Touch,” he murmured, his fingers gently raking through my hair before picking up the loose strands and moving them over to the front of my shoulder. “Everything feels different. Better.More,” he said, dragging his fingers over the shredded fabric of my shirt. “Something as simple as standing in a crowded room can feel like sensory overload when you’ve only just Turned.”

My skin prickled as he traced the length of my shoulder blade, his fingers moving slowly and exploratively.

“He needs only to adjust to it, and in time he’ll wonder how he ever lived any other way,” he said suddenly beside my ear, his voice a wolfish purr.

I resisted the urge to shiver from his nearness. From the way his voice and smell and proximity made my breath hitch, and my stomach tighten.

“You make it sound like it’s a blessing and not a curse,” I murmured, turning slightly toward him.

“Because it is.” His breath tickled the corner of my lips as he spoke. “It’s merely a matter of perspective.”

My gaze fell to his mouth and my cheeks immediately flushed hot in response. Every fiber of my being wanted to kiss him then, to lean into him and let him expunge all semblance of fear and pain and shame in my heart the way he had done for me so many times before.

But of course, I couldn’t. Not today. Not like this.

Pushing off the couch, I took a few hurried steps forward and then turned around to face him again. This time, at a safe distance. “That may be so, but his perspective isn’t anything like yours, Dominic. He never wanted to become this. Youdid. You were able to make that choice for yourself.”

He straightened slowly; his eyes trained on mine as he shuttered his expression. “He has choices, too. Perhaps not the ones he wanted, but he has them nonetheless,” heinformed as he casually walked back around the sofa and then toward me, stopping just inches from where I stood. He moved with the grace and stealth of a lion stalking its ill-equipped prey—sizing them up for the final strike. It was somehow unnerving and enthralling at the same time.

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