Page 10 of Demons In My Head: Exposing the Exiled
I focused on absorbing his energy. My hands began tingling, and I gasped as excitement built in my veins.
"Push your form into me, Jasper. Envision it in your mind. It's flowing from your hands into mine."
The heat of our palms cooled drastically, and my eyes flew open. "Holy shit..."
Jasper's eyes opened, and his mouth dropped as he took in what I was seeing. We were both glowing, a soft blue. I couldn't hold in the small laugh when we both floated off the ground.
"It worked!" I launched myself at him and wrapped my arms around him in a tight embrace, and the faint scent of cedar surrounded me. Ghosts didn’t have a scent, ever. It was just one more strange thing to add to the list about this particular one… nothing about him was normal. My thoughts were interrupted because the creaking hinges on the door above us abruptly gave way.
Jasper's grip on my body tightened. "Hold on tight. Don't let go."
Light flooded the room as the guards above finally broke through.
"GO, JASPER! GO!" I yelled as adrenaline flooded me once more.
Scorpio dropped through the ceiling and tossed a small canister at us just as Jasper lunged for the solid concrete wall. I clenched my eyes shut, preparing for the skull fracture and brain swelling that were sure to follow, but no pain came. The last thing I heard was Scorpio screaming, and then the soft, pressurized hiss of aerosol gas being released.
I clung to Jasper like a lifeline. He'd saved me. We were moving so fast that I couldn't make out any of our surroundings. I didn't care where we were going, only that it was far, far away from Scorpio.
Chapter three
Rhodes
The heavy wooden gates of Naryian, the capital of Besmet, loomed in the distance before us, weathered stone walls stretching up into the gray sky. My stomach churned as we approached, a dark dread seeping into my bones.
We were still far enough away and secluded by large boulders. Security was tight as I'd already spotted ten different guards rotating near the gate in the past twenty minutes.
I glanced at Misha out of the corner of my eye, taking in his stony expression. He hadn't spoken a word since Balor left us a few hours prior, and it wasn’t that silence was anything new, but we were back in our home! I expected at least a few more verbal expressions of emotion from him. I watched his fist clench and unclench, his fingertips brushing the hilts of his daggers, and I frowned. He was thinking about her.
Without permission, words echoed in my head. Harsh, cruel words that I'd flung at Palmer without a second thought. I'd gotten so good at pushing down memories; I honestly believed I'd healed, that I was strong enough not to be affected.
Clearly, I was wrong. My jaw tightened at the thought. Fucking outrageous. All it took was her speaking his name for me to go off like a bomb. But Jasper was dead. All five of us handled the loss the same. We didn't talk about him. We didn't acknowledge the fact that he'd ever been a living and breathing part of our brotherhood.
It hurt too fucking bad.
My chest tightened, panic clawing up my throat. Sucking in a sharp breath, I forced myself to remain calm. I couldn't lose it now, not when we were this close.
What if she wasn't lying?
I slammed the door on that hopeful thought faster than the very walls that seemed to be closing in around me.
What will they do when they find out what you did?
Misha's hand closed around my arm, his grip firm but gentle. I jerked away on instinct, nausea churning in my gut. He raised a deep, thick brow in question.
He didn't need to voice his question. I'd been around him long enough to read his expressions well enough. "What's going on with you?"
"I'm fine, Misha. Leave it."
He stared at me, his intense stare looking through me for the truth. I'd gotten so good at hiding it though, I knew he wouldn't see anything I didn't want him to.
As we edged closer to the gate, I couldn't ignore the feeling that something was off. The guards were distracted by something. Probably the excitement and anxiety that a public execution stirs, especially when it's the crown fucking prince who is getting beheaded. My heart rate increased, and I could feel the sweat starting to bead on my forehead.
Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed through the air, and I froze in shock, locking eyes with Ashland. Together, we peered around the giant boulder in search of the source of the noise.
My gaze landed on a woman who was being dragged across the courtyard, her hands and feet tied, her body bruised and battered. I didn't recognize her, but her plain charcoal grey dress uniform gave her away as one of the serving girls who worked in the castle.
"LONG LIVE PRINCE BRAM!" she shrieked as she wriggled like a worm on a hook. Profanities spewed from her lips like the sharpest of blades. Each shriek filled my ears like the drums of war, every insult a battle cry.
