Page 2 of Twisted Ties
“You don’t speak of her,” I say, pounding my fist against his face and hearing both my fingers and his cheekbone crack. “You don’t think of her. You will regret ever coming for her. Because I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re not,” he says, smiling even though there’s blood in his mouth. “Because you’re not who you used to be, Phoenix Stone. With your smart suit and your comfy fucking job in the academy. Sitting all day, pouring over your books. I’ve seen you.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” I hiss, swinging my arm back to hit him again. This time he ducks, landing a punch of his own on my ribs.
I grunt, the pain sharp below my aching heart.
“I’ve seen you watching her. Seen you looking at her. You know it’s funny. When you watch someone like I have, you notice all the other people doing the same. And there are so many of you, aren’t there?”
I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. The man is insane. The noise from his head still loud in my ears, distracting me, attempting to drown me in its madness.
He tries to hit me again, but I grip him around the waist and throw him to the ground. He pulls me with him and we scrabble around, first me on top of him, then he on top of me, the road cold and wet beneath us, seeping through my clothes. I kick at him, zap him with my magic, hit at him, and then I have the upper hand again. My hands tighten around his neck and I squeeze and squeeze.
“I’m going to kill you,” I snarl, the rage so all-consuming,all I can see is the amusement dancing in his eye, everything else fading away.
“Nah, not today, Prof.,” he says. His manic eyes twinkle – one brown, one green. He winks at me and then he’s gone. Just like that. One minute pinned on the ground beneath me, my hands tight around his neck. The next gone, nothing but thin air, my hands hanging redundantly.
How the fuck did he do that?
I twist around, scramble to my feet, searching for him.
There’s nothing but mist and darkness and his bike.
I kick at the ground, swearing.
I failed.
I failed her yet again.
2
Rhi
The room is dark,the clinic still and quiet. I can hear the man in black’s breath whistle. I can feel his presence, feel it deep down in the very pit of my core, a core that spins and swoons uncontrollably.
I screw up my eyes. Is he awake like I am? Awake in the dark, trying to make sense of everything that’s happened. Or is he there, sitting in the chair beside my bed regretting everything that’s happened.
He says he had no choice. He says he did it to save me. That if he hadn’t given me his power, his magic, I would have perished in his arms. And those actions have led to this. The sealing of the fated bond – something irreversible.
Does he regret it? Does he wish he’d let me die? Because if we are what they say we are – a fated pair – it’s not like he greeted me with open arms.
My heart aches in my chest, knowing the truth of it. He didn’t want me. He didn’t choose me. No, fate did the choosing. Fate gave him a mate like me. Stupid, ignorant, weak, pathetic.
A girl who has no idea how this complicated world works.
I open my eyes and stare up at the blinking light on the ceiling. On. Off. On. Off.
Why does it hurt so much?
The nurse had floated around me yesterday as if I was the luckiest girl on the planet, muttering about the blessings bestowed upon me, how fortunate I was to find my other half, how happy I must be.
“He saved you,” she swooned, “it’s so romantic.”
Lying on the hospital bed with a broken leg and the memory of the agony his absence had caused still fresh in every cell in my body, I don’t feel lucky or fortunate or happy.
It doesn’t feel that way to me at all.
Mostly I feel sadness, a sadness that morphs to anger as the long night drags on. An anger that starts off lukewarm and simmers hotter and hotter, till I’m boiling over with it.
