Page 31 of Spark

If I wanted to become part of the wolf pack, then I would have to become a wolf, even if I was the runt of the litter. The omega was still valuable so long as they could prove their worth. And I would, starting with Darren. I had to give him my all—no matter how much I hated him, no matter how much it terrified me if the result was anything less than absolute death. I had to end this, and in order to do that, I had to end myself. I had to leave the dead Jaden behind and take flight with a new identity—someone tougher, faster, and smarter. A stronger stomach wouldn’t be too bad either.

Eventually, Darren released me and tipped my chin up with his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him. Blue, so much blue, I thought I was swimming in it. Those eyes were something else, something dangerous yet so fucking mesmerizing. One look from him could melt me to the floor or freeze me in place. And I had given him that power. I needed to take it back.

And then he leaned down and kissed me. It was soft, gentle, nothing invasive or possessive. Just sweet simplicity. When he released my lips, he gave me a small smile.

“Have a good day with Holly,” he said. “I’ll see you at dinner.” And then he left me standing at the door with Hank and Blondie.

“Morning,” I said to them as Hank opened the door. For some reason, I felt like being nice.

“Good morning, Miss Jaden,” Hank said to me. Blondie just nodded his head slightly.

“There you are!” shouted Holly in excitement as she jumped up from the reading nook.

“Hey,” I said with a cautious smile as she came over to me. The second my eyes landed on the giant red and purple bruise and butterfly bandage covering the bridge of her nose, I felt like the biggest jackass. “Shit, Holly, I’m so sorry,” I said regrettably.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said, waving me off with a smile. “I’m a fast healer. It’ll be back to normal in no time.”

I nodded. “Well, I’m grateful for your optimism.”

“Right. Well, come on. We have a busy day ahead of us,” she said brightly.

Oh, the joy…

13

Routine

For the next week, I spent nearly every waking moment with Holly, except for the occasional mealtime with Darren whenever he had the chance. With Holly’s happy-go-lucky attitude, it was hard for me not to punch her in the face again, but I was still grateful for her company. I had to give it to her—she was fantastic at physical therapy. In a week, I had better strength and mobility in my jaw and wrist, and I needed less pain medication for my ribs by the day. I worked my ass off to get there, but Holly really gave me the push I needed.

When we weren’t working on my physical therapy, Holly tried to keep me preoccupied with just about everything she could think of. We painted every day after lunch, and though it was mundane and pointless, I did it anyway to make her and Darren happy. I continued to finger paint, preferring to work with my hands instead of the brush. Holly made sure to order paint that was more suitable for my style of painting. The colors of my painting would change from time to time, but they were usually always dark—purples, reds, blues, and a lot of black. Sometimes, I thought I was painting a night sky, but I knew I was only painting the darkness in my head, still trying to find the colors within.

At one point, Holly tried to get me to paint something else—my nails. Ginsby had removed the acrylics a long time ago since no one could maintain them on the island. My nails had remained bare and, to be honest, a little dull. I didn’t mind having polish on my nails; I just didn’t prefer the extra fake shit.

After lunch, Holly and I sat on the couch in the entertainment room where she put on some lame ass romantic comedy while Hank and Blondie got to stand at the door. Lucky bastards. She then pulled out a huge basket of nail polish and tools. My eyebrows actually shot up. There must have been a hundred colors.

“I thought we could paint our nails and watch a movie while they dry,” she practically beamed.

I shrugged. “Sure, why not?” Not like I had anything better to do.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had painted my nails, but apparently, I still had some skill. I managed not to get a single drop of the light pink polish on my skin and even successfully created the perfect striped accent nail on my ring fingers with some silver nail tape. I was a little impressed with myself. Holly, on the other hand, was skilled in getting more polish on her skin than her actual nails.

I shook my head at her as she painted on her third uneven coat, and it was driving me nuts.

“Holly, stop,” I said and inched closer to her. “You have to paint slowly and gently. Otherwise, it will dry unevenly. Watch how I do it.”

I took her brush from her hand, dipped it back into the bottle, and easily laid a perfect coat over her pinky fingernail without adding to the dried polish on her skin.

“See?”

“Wow, that looks great,” she beamed, her eyes examining her hand. “Hey, maybe you could do the rest!” she suggested.

I pursed my lips. Dammit, how did I get sucked into that?

“Sure, but I’ll have to start over. No offense but your base coat looks like shit.”

Son of a fuck, was I really talking about nail polish right now? Ugh!

As I removed the shitty coats of polish from her nails, I found myself getting more and more irritated with the stupid romantic comedy that Holly kept laughing at.

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