Page 11 of Twisted Gift
A breathy laugh escapes my lips. “I haven’t—” I close my eyes, willing the room to stop spinning so I don’t fall on my ass. “—fed.”
“Today? Jeez, Aurora. You should’ve told me. We could’ve done that before the ceremony.”
Keeping my eyes closed, I shake my head. “Not just today. Not since I changed.” I hear her sharp intake of breath, but when she doesn’t say anything, I continue. “I was dancing in there, having fun, and then a wicked anxiety attack slammed into me, but it was more than that. I was drowning. Everyone’s emotions were pulling me under, and I couldn’t break free.” My bottom lip trembles, and Allison squeezes my shoulders.
“Breathe, Aurora,” she says softly. “You need to feed.” Her voice is thick with concern.
Once my head stops spinning, I open my eyes, and then my entire body goes rigid.
“What is it?” Allison asks quickly, having felt the shift in my posture.
My mouth goes dry. If I try to speak, my voice will crack. Our eyes are locked, and even from across the lobby, I can feel him everywhere. He looks the same, but different. His hair is shorter, his stubble a bit thicker, his eyes the same blue that pierces right through me. It’s been two months since I saw him, and as I stand here staring at him now, it’s as if I’m seeing him for the first time with the feeling of having known him forever. Nothing makes sense.
“I can’t . . .” I’m speaking to Allison, but my gaze hasn’t left Tristan’s. “I have to get out of here.”
I brush past her and hurry toward the door, terrified he’ll follow. The echo of my heels against the marble is loud in my ears, and it’s not until I reach the sidewalk and get into the back of what is probably someone else’s cab that I can breathe again.
“Uh, ma’am . . . ?”
“Drive,” I order. My tone is dark. I picture it as inky purple tendrils I send toward the driver, bending him to my will as the swirls of color wrap around him like a spool of ribbon. I focus one thought: I need this car to move. I project that onto the driver, forcing my need to become his. I’ve never played with my manipulative influence until now. I don’t know if I’m doing it right, but when he stares out the windshield and nods, I figure it worked. It doesn’t matter how. All that matters is that we’re driving away fromhim, from everything. For now.
4
Aside from snapping at the cab driver when I threw myself into the backseat of his car, I’ve managed to keep it together the rest of the ride. I apologize before I get out, having tipped him well for my rude behavior. He doesn’t know what’s going on in my life, but he didn’t deserve my short temper. The guilt is already eating at me, but there’s nothing more I can do.
I pull my key out of my clutch after he drives away and unlock the door to the pub. It closed a couple of hours ago; most of its usual patrons were at the graduation reception anyway. The bartender from the night before is restocking the bar when I walk in and let the door close behind me. He sets a bottle on the counter and smiles at me, his hair falling into his face. He doesn’t bother using gel to hold it back.
“Go home,” I say in a low voice as my only greeting—and dismissal.
He doesn’t question me, just nods and comes out from behind the bar, hesitating at my side. I shake my head before he can say anything, and then he walks out the door. I lock it behind him and sigh, my throat thick with unshed tears. I breathe through my nose, heading toward the bar, and snatch a full bottle from the shelf without looking to see what it is. At this point, it doesn’t matter.
I kick a few of the stools away and sit on the floor, my back against the wood of the bar. I hug the bottle, glancing down to see that it’s tequila before I crack it open and take a long drink, cringing as it ignites a path of warmth from my tongue to my belly. It isn’t until I’ve drunk a quarter of the bottle that I realize I’m buzzed—and crying. The tears roll down my cheeks as my shoulders shake slightly. I choke on a sob, haul myself up, and throw the bottle against the faux brick wall. I watch it shatter, glass and liquor covering the old wood floor. A floor that’s seen many spills in its day but probably not many intentional ones. Fuck, I should clean it up before it ruins the wood.Fuck. Why do I give a shit about the damn wood right now?It’s easier to think about the floor than the other problems you’re facing, an annoying voice in my head murmurs. Clearly, I didn’t drink enough before smashing the bottle.
My head whips around at the sound of another heartbeat. Nikolai leans in the doorway across the room with his arms folded over his chest, watching.
He sighs. “Feel better?”
I narrow my eyes at him, ready to snap, but all that comes out is, “No.” My voice is cracked, broken, and I’m still angry. Angry that I can’t control my own body, angry that one of the happiest nights of my life has been shadowed by it.
Now that I’m not surrounded by humans—and their emotions—I’m left with only my own. It should make me feel better, but the dark, heavy combination of everything whipping through me is less than pleasant. In fact, at this point, I’d much rather feel nothing.
Nikolai uncrosses his arms and approaches at a slow pace, his hands in front of him as if he’s trying to show me he’s not going to hurt me. His vibrant green gaze is steady, and his heartbeat is calm. I wish I could say the same for mine; it’s attempting to break through my ribcage.
“Aurora.” His voice is soft like velvet. It should be soothing, but instead, it flips a switch in me, and I snap.
My arm swings out before I can think about it, but he grabs my hand before it can connect with anything. I growl and swing with the other. He catches that one as well and holds them both in his, all the while murmuring words of understanding until I stop trying to attack him. My chest is heaving, and my mouth is dry as I catch my breath and settle. I’m still crying, but it’s become so constant tonight, I can’t make it stop.
“You’re okay,” he says, his expression full of concern. It confuses the hell out of me, and my head is still swimming. I’m pretty sure I have the tequila to thank for that.
Shaking my head, I try to disagree, but no words come out. I don’t even have the energy to fight him.
Once he’s sure I’m not going to attack him again, he releases my hands, and I let them fall to my sides. Glancing over at the mess on the floor, I let loose a heavy sigh.
“We’ll get it cleaned up later,” Nikolai says. “For now, I think you and I should have a chat.”
I meet his gaze without a word.
“Okay?” he checks.
