Page 83 of Twisted Ties
It’s not until we’re flying down the road that I spot them.
An older man, long gray hair tied back from his face, hands in his pockets, face wizened, watching as we fly past. A red rose in the buttonhole of his old jacket.
“Winnie,” I say, “stop the car.”
27
Azlan
I thoughtthe bond was meant to weaken over time. Become more bearable. Something eventually I’d hardly notice.
It isn’t the case. The gnawing in my stomach grows stronger as each hour of the night passes, so I’m tossing and turning on Phoenix’s spare bed, unable to sleep.
By the time the day is dawning, I can’t bear it any longer. I’m going to have to see her.
Damn the consequences.
She’s mine and perhaps this separation, perhaps this creeping around and keeping it secret, is a foolish idea.
She should be by my side, in my arms.
In my bed.
I tug at my laces, tightening my boots until they cutinto my skin.
My mind is turning into a sewer. Thoughts and ideas I’ve never entertained swirling through my head. Ideas and thoughts the other teenage boys used to obsess over that never interested me before. Never occupied my every waking moment.
I need to pull myself together.
I leave Stone sleeping and let myself out of his cabin, crossing the clearing and heading for the school grounds. They are empty. It’s early and there was also an attack last night. I imagine the students have been instructed to stay inside.
One of them is choosing not to obey those instructions.
My cousin, Tristan.
I’m not surprised.
I meet him as he walks down the path away from the mansion.
A bandage covers his left cheek and a bruise his right brow.
“What happened?” I ask him, and he snaps out of whatever sick thoughts had been brewing in his mind, and his cool eyes meet mine.
“Azlan.” He touches his cheek. “Are you allowed to be here?” His voice isn’t friendly.
“Rhianna was attacked last night.”
“By a werebeast,” Tristan says. “You aren’t doing a very good job of looking out for your mate.”
I ignore him. He may be efficient at provoking his little friends at this school, but I couldn’t give a damn what my little cousin thinks. He’s turning into his father. More alike every day. And I certainly don’t care what my uncle thinks either.
I examine his cheek and the bruise. “Were you attacked too?” He glares at me and doesn’t answer. “Because Iunderstood only the girl was attacked before the beast retreated into the forest.”
“That’s what I heard too.”
“But she says,” I stare into those pale eyes of his, devoid of emotion, “something intervened.”
“I thought you’d have noticed by now that your girlfriend is several sandwiches short of a picnic, several marbles missing, several screws loose. I wouldn’t trust a word that comes out of her mouth.”
