Page 15 of Wicked Dove
“No.”
“Then obviously it wasn’t.”
It was. At least, it was intended to be, but it seems I’m losing my sharp tongue being trapped in here.
I can either try again or choose another tactic. His eye shuts again, filling me with frustration as the energy shifts in the air.
It’s weird. Thick and daunting, yet peaceful and calming. It’s almost as though I’m supposed to be relaxed in here while I wait for whatever comes next, but his presence taints it.
“What’s your name?” I mutter, trying to pierce the thin veil of hostility hanging in the air, but he chooses to ignore me. That’s fine. It’s not like I’m new to being ignored. High school wasn’t exactly great for me. With a trailer park address and no new clothes or gadgets, I was the outcast. Everyone was too scared to hang out with me, but even more afraid of crossing me.
Turning away from him, I face the glass, confused by the rest of the room I can see on the other side. It’s just a few storage cabinets and a door. No natural light, no indication of an outside world existing. It’s like we’re being imprisoned in a standard room, but we don’t have access to all of it.
It doesn’t make any sense. It’s nothing like I’ve seen before, and I can’t decide if it's worse than my floating room prison from earlier.
I try to shake it off as I fill in the blanks to my question on his behalf. “Oh, me? My name is fuck face, what’s your name? Oh, hi, fuck face, I’m?—”
“I’m trying to sleep,” he snaps as I’m spun around. A second later, my back is pressed against the glass as he towers over me,toe-to-toe, with his eyes narrowed and his shoulders tight and tense.
Emotion bubbles inside me; the desire to defend myself is off the charts, but recalling the last time I tried to defend someone seeps into my mind and my confidence evaporates.
I push against his chest to no avail. He doesn’t take the hint to back off. Instead, he braces his forearms on the glass above my head, caging me in further.
“Aren’t you worried I’m going to harm you?” I rasp, aware that everyone else I’ve met since I’ve arrived has deemed me a scythe and treated me with a hint of disdain. Sure, he has the same level of distaste for my presence, but he’s not acting as though I’m as deadly as everyone has made out.
He scoffs, confusion in his gaze. “Harm me with what?”
“My knee straight to your nuts,” I snap, refusing to actively acknowledge what they all think I am right now. Not with him this close.
He grimaces, making me smile.
“That’s a low blow,” he grunts, pushing off the glass and taking a step back.
“You’re weird.”And completely unpredictable.
“Thanks,” he mutters, stalking back toward his bed.
It’s no surprise to watch him get comfortable in the exact same position as a moment ago.
I blink at the glass, waiting for a solution to come to mind, but nothing stands out, so I bite my lip and concede, shuffling back toward the bed I woke up on. We’re about fifteen feet apart, enough for me to pretend he’s not even here.
Despite the thought, I glance at him once I’m lying down, too. The silence is deafening. It’s all I’ve been greeted with since I woke and Walker was nowhere to be found.
As long as I don’t make him mad, he seems tolerable.
Taking a deep breath, I stare up at the ceiling. “Are you being tested too?”
“You’re being tested?” he clarifies, and I don’t dare look to see if he’s glancing at me or not. Instead, I stare up at the ceiling and nod. When he says nothing in response, I can’t stop myself from giving in.
His blond hair is slightly tousled from running his fingers through it, but it’s the way his eyebrows knit that makes my heart lurch. His hair is so fair it’s almost white, yet his eyes are so troubled they look like tainted emeralds. I’m sure he could cut me in half with his jawline alone, but the way he holds his hands, fingers slightly curled, as though he’s ready for a fight at any given moment, tells me he could snap me in half with ease, no jawline needed.
“What’s the look for?” It’s almost not surprising when he ignores me. “Hey, don’t pull that face without explaining. It’s rude,” I insist, fighting the urge to sit up. I curl my hands into the sheets beneath me as his eyebrows rise at me.
“No, you’re rude. Now shut up and let me rest,” he retorts, relaxing his features, but before he can close his eyes and ignore my presence again, I push on.
“They’re saying I have magic. I can use it on you if you keep being an ass, you know,” I threaten like a fool, immediately regretting it the moment the words leave my mouth.
It works, though. His eyes remain on mine. “They’re saying… as in, you don’t know?”
