Page 150 of A Taste of Torment
So, Jarron will never tell me that he’d imprinted on Liz. He’ll never admit that she was his first choice. “Is it bad that it changes my mind?” the words are bitter on my tongue. “I don’t want to be a second choice.”
Trevor frowns. “I don’t think you’re his second choice. Sometimes, what our soul chooses, isn’t what we truly desire. Even if he imprinted on Liz, you aren’t Jarron’s second choice. You were just his demon’s second choice. There’s a difference.”
Is there?
I rub my chest, that tightness back again. I don’t see how that distinction matters, but I don’t say it. Not now.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
Trevor nods and stands. “You should get some rest.”
I force a smile, and ease back under the sheets, mind racing.
If my sister were alive, Jarron would choose her. Maybe he’d be happy with me now, but that’s not something I think I can ever settle for.
54
The Devil’s Heart Can Break Too
A shinningblack talon is carving through my chest, piercing all the way to my heart. Burning pain clenches over my whole body and a scream rips from my throat.
I jerkawake to a pitch-black room, and agony clenches over every inch of my body. My panicked scream morphs into a pathetic whimper of pain.
The fear of the nightmare is already forgotten, replaced by very real physical pain.
I curl over and press my face into the itchy white sheets.
Tears instantly stream down my face. I can’t define or explain any of it. There is only misery and grief and heartbreak.
So much heartbreak.
The door crashes open, but I can’t even make myself face the intruder. I curl into fetal position and try to make it all go away.
Rough hands grab me by the upper arms and jerk me to face them.
Through my pathetic tears, I stare into a monster’s void-like eyes. My body freezes. Leathery wings block out everything but the terrifying beast holding me.
“What’s wrong?” The monster’s voice is strained.
Confusion covers the anguish of moments before. Is the monsterconcerned?
“Jarron?” I whisper. Finally, some clarity has returned and reality settles in.
“What is wrong?” he asks again, louder now. “Are you okay?”
Though his form is terrifying, his expression is that of a lost child.
“I’m—I’m fine. I think I had a nightmare. And when I jerked awake, it—well, it hurt.”
He looks me over again and then releases my arms. His chest rises and falls dramatically. “Are you okay?” I ask, remembering his injuries. He barely survived yesterday.
“Only if you are.”
A nurse rushes into the room and freezes at the sight of the winged demon kneeling before my bed.
“You both should be resting,” she murmurs frantically.
“She needs something to help her sleep,” the demon’s voice rumbles.
