Page 107 of Fractured Fates
I shift my weight on my feet uncomfortably, an unease prickling over my skin. “What … what do you mean?”
Until recently I thought my mind had been an open book to him, one he could pick up and flick through the pages whenever he liked.
“There’re some memories deep down in your mind that I can’t penetrate.”
Good, I think. Then shift again. “What memories?”
“I don’t know what memories, I can’t see them.” He holds my gaze. “I’m not sure you are even aware you possess them.”
“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about …”
He stands up and stalks towards me, pausing when he’s standing right in front of me. I tip my head back staring up into his face. The hook in my belly shimmers with his proximity.
“If you let me, I could open them. It might provide the answer you want.”
“And the answers the authorities want too.”
He shrugs.
Are there memories really locked inside my head? Ones I wasn’t even aware of? And if it’s true, what the hell kind of memories are they? Ones I’ve hidden from myself?
“Perhaps. Or ones your aunt kept hidden from you.”
“What?” I say, blinking, his pale eyes coming back into focus.
“Your aunt may have stored these memories in your mind for you to find one day. Or …” His eyes flick across my face. I can feel the warmth of his body and the tickle of his breath, gentle on my face. That tug pulls me toward him. I was going to ask him about that too. But now, I find I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Or?”
“Or … she may have hidden your own memories from you in order to protect you from them.”
I swallow. I don’t know what happened to my parents. I don’t remember a single thing about them. My earliest memory is of my aunt. Of her face, her laugh, her voice.
“Because they’re painful,” I whisper.
“Perhaps, or maybe because whatever they are is a danger to you. A threat.”
I close my eyes. I have a Pandora’s box inside my head. One it would be severely tempting to open. But I know how that went down for Pandora. I have enough pain in my heart, enough doubts lingering at my shoulders, enough axes hanging over my head. Do I want to add to those? Do I really want to know?
“I won’t open them,” Stone says softly, “I won’t open them unless you ask me to.”
I open my eyes. Whatever this hook is in my belly, I think it’s hooked him in, too. He leans over me, our faces merely inches apart.
“If I let you … if I let you open those memories, do you promise not to tell anyone what’s inside?”
I hold his gaze. The power of the connection is intense, like I can feel his power longing to connect with mine. I hold my breath.
He steps away, shaking his head.
“No, Rhi, no, I can’t promise you that. I don’t know what the hell your aunt was up to. I don’t know who your parents were. I can’t make you that promise.”
Because for all that connection I just imagined – that I stupidly believed I felt – I’m just a nobody, a nothing. Didn’t he tell me that on my very first day here?
“Yes, I did. Don’t get the impression that just because I’m curious about your past, that I possess any interest in you, Blackwaters.” He frowns. “That I’d make concessions and allowances for you. I’m not in the habit of making promises to students. No matter who they are.”
“And yet despite the late hour, you opened your door to me. Why do I have the suspicion you don’t do that for just anyone, Professor?” He scoffs. “And also,” I continue, “despite your lack of interest in me, you threatened to kiss me. Or do you make moves on all your students?”
“You want answers, Blackwaters. I’m not the one to give them to you.”
