Page 27 of Nemesis

On most days, I like my car. It’s not particularly flashy, although it’s new to me. It has all the bells and whistles. The guys gave it to me a few months ago when they spotted me walking around town. It didn’t take them long to figure out I had sold my other one. That vehicle reminded me of Nyx, and blood, and the freaking war that took over the town.

Up until my brother and his friends swooped in, I didn’t particularly care about my lack of transportation. My own two feet carry me just fine.

The bike, though. That was a gift to myself.

I dressed in a black body suit fit for riding a motorcycle. It’s mostly leather, with matte black metal buckles around my thighs, abdomen, and chest. The leather pants tuck into sturdy boots, a black leather jacket zipped up to my throat and straps secured horizontally across my abdomen. It hides a rather plain black blouse underneath… and a concealed gun at the small of my back.

The outfit is meant to downplay my features. I’m more curvy than I’d like to be, especially in the last year. I gained a fewpounds during this peace time in Sterling Falls. Like the stress of war fell away and I could relax. As much as I could living with Saint anyway.

My breasts came out of nowhere when I was fourteen, hips and an ass that made an appearance in the same year. I went from passing as my brother tonot. Unless I’m dressing up for Bow & Arrow or Olympus, I like to pretend the curves don’t exist. I slimmed down quite a bit after the first initial growth spurt, although it’s worse lately.

My hair is in a thick braid over my shoulder, my makeup practically nonexistent. We’re going down the I’m-not-trying-to-impress-you route.

It doesn’t help that I woke up this morning dreading today. My eyes opened before my alarm, and I immediately got dressed like a zombie. Today is my birthday.

I try not to think about my fifteenth birthday. Waking up with a mixture of happiness and wariness. Apollo was already gone at that point, and I had plans of sneaking out of the house to go celebrate with friends.

That never happened, and instead…Terror.

Forcing myself to consider today like any other, I got on my bike and zipped along the mostly empty roads to Olympus.

Once parked, I consider going inside. It stands still and dark, the sun not yet peeking over the horizon. But if I go in, I’ll miss the best part of the morning. The sky robbed me the other day, and I hope it gives mesomethingbetter today.

I take the path up the sloping hill to the cliffs, my footsteps sure even in the low light. At the edge, so close my toes almost hang off, I take a deep breath.

The salt air, the low rush and crash of waves below, flood me with strength.

I sit and swing my legs over the edge. The heels of my boots kick loose little bits of dirt and gravel, and they fall a long way into the churning, dark water below.

In front of me, the sky is lightening in slow increments. It’s clear of clouds today, which will hopefully grant me a good omen in the form of a perfect sunrise.

Saint is back to avoiding me. And he and I… After our, uh, sexual misadventure, he rather calmly went into his room and emerged a minute later with a bag slung over his shoulder. And then he walked out with a weird expression.

It allowed me to freak out alone, but he’ll be back.

He always comes back, whether it’s by his choice or Jace’s.

Besides, my sources say he’s holed up at Starlight, his tattoo shop. A few months ago, I accidentally discovered a cot set up in the corner of his back office. When Jace finds out—which he will, because the bastard knows everything—he’ll put an end to it.

But until then, it’s not my problem. He’s dealing with the approaching anniversary of Nyx’s death, and I’m dealing with my birthday and Atlas and that terribleofffeeling that I can’t shake or pinpoint.

So, yeah.

He left me with a mess—mental, physical.

I can’t say I didn’t lie in bed and bring myself over the edge a few more times at the thought of his dirty talk. Although maybedirty talkis a stretch. More like degradation.

Am I into that sort of thing?

I don’twantto be into that sort of thing. I want to be cherished like a fucking princess, because that’s what I deserve after the life I’ve led. But Saint knows exactly how to get under my skin, and I hate him for it. I hate him for who he is, and how much he loved Nyx, andall of it.

Great freaking start to my birthday.

I sweep my hand along the gravel beside me, sending another shower down to the water.

“Aren’t you afraid of falling?”

My shoulders hike up.