The Heart's Ashes
Page 27

“No, it’s all right, Amara.” Eric stood tall. “Let him go. Let him get it all out.”
“No!” I rushed between them.
“Leave. Now,” Mike growled through his teeth, removing me, by the arm, from between them.
Eric looked at me and exhaled loudly. “Okay, I’ll leave, but only because I know it’ll kill her if I hurt you. Amara?” He took a step closer to me; Mike moved sideways to block his path. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
I went to say okay, but he turned and headed out the front door before I had the chance. “Mike, how could you?” I moved away from him. “Eric’s my friend.”
“Friends don’t force themselves on each other, Ara.” He pointed to the bench, where I’d been standing with Eric.
My world stopped, but everything around me moved, rolling forward, as if I’d jumped on an invisible conveyer belt. “You saw that?” I knew it.
Mike simply stood taller and dropped his hands to his side.
The movement of my rocking world felt like a hot room—a sauna left on high with the door closed—making my cheeks tingle, my lips numb, until it dissolved with a rush of cold.
Mike’s frown loosened and shock washed over his eyes as the sound rang out around me...
...coming back in like heavy breathing and a constantly beating heart. My eyes inched open to a stream of daylight, while the firm pillow beneath held me down.
No, wait, not held me down—held me.
Looking around, I aimed my eyes to the yellow wall beside my bed—to my photos and the rainbows shining through my crystals. But as I focused properly, my heart sunk, and the dream of my dad’s house, of Mike and David, slipped away to the bright white walls and strong embrace of my best friend. “Mike?”
“I called work for you—you passed out,” he said in a stern, emotionless tone. “You’re not eating, are you?”
“What? Why would you say that?” I sat up from his chest and looked down when I felt the brush of sheets on my bare skin. “You undressed me?”
“You had coffee all over your clothes. I only took your shoes and jeans off—and your shirt.” He shrugged, but the normal glint of mischief in his eyes was gone.
“You’re mad at me,” I stated, sitting up properly.
“Yes.” He bit his teeth together and looked away.
“I don’t like it when you’re mad with me.”
“Ara, are you starving yourself because you miss him?” he asked, anger gripping his usually gentle tone.
Is he mad at me because he thinks I’m starving myself, or because of Eric? “What makes you think I’m not eating?”
“You passed out, and you’re very, very thin.” His head shook as he exhaled the words. “I nearly fell over when I saw your bones, Ara. You’ve done well to hide it from me, but I’ve seen it now. So tell me the truth.”
“I’m not starving myself, Mike. I don’t really get hungry anymore—and, yes, it’s because I miss him. But it’s not intentional.”
He let out a breath. “So, if I cook for you every day, you’ll eat it?”
“Yes.” I looked down.
“Now—” He took my hand and waited until I looked into his eyes. “We need to talk about this.”
I cringed at the touch of his finger over the scar on my wrist—the one David left. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I snatched my hand back defensively.
“I don’t care!” He pulled me back to the bed as I tried to stand up. “Now. Talk.”
“Why did you look at Eric’s arm?” I asked, spinning around to look at his face. “When you shook his hand? Why did you do that?”
“I know what he is.”
I doubled back, then folded my arms defiantly. “Oh yeah, then what is he?”
“Ara, stop it. You know that I know—you’ve known for a while. I was just waiting for you to tell me—to give me one shred of honesty—but you didn’t.” He pressed his lips into a stern line.
Oh, crap. I slowly unfolded my arms. “I—”
“You what? Don’t stop talking, Ara. It’s time for the truth to come out—the whole truth.”
“I didn’t want you to be mad with me.”
“But I am mad. Furious, to be exact. How could you hang out with that guy—knowing what he could do to you?”
“David never did anyt—”
“Not David. Eric. David would never do that to you. But you don’t know what Eric’s capable of, Ara. He could’ve bitten you. You could’ve ended up in a coma again.”
“Whoa, hold on, hold on. Exactly how much do you know?”
“I know what they are; David and Eric.” Mike ran his finger over my scar again. “Does David know that guy’s hanging around you?”
“David’s gone, Mike. Eric says no one can find him.”
“How does Eric know?”
“He was in the same Set as David. Mike—” I looked at the narrowed squint of his eye, and sighed. “I’m sorry I never told you, but I didn’t really know anything. David kept that part of his world to himself. Eric told me most of what I know about the Set; Eric told me about David, how he left and—”
“Is that why you’re hanging out with him? He’s your link to that world—to David?” Mike asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank God.” He ran the hand of relief through his hair. “I was afraid you might be in love with him or something—you know, or maybe you had a fetish for guys that can kill you.”
“Mike! What a horrid thing to say.” I drew back.
“I’m sorry, baby, but what’d you expect? You don’t talk to me about it.” He pulled me back into his firm, almost inhuman-sized chest, and squeezed me. “All I’ve had are my own conclusions.”
His white shirt smelled so strongly of him—the scent of a man mixed with heat and sweat and powdery cologne. But it smelled so good, so human. “Well, how long have you known—about David?” I asked.
“Since the day I met him.”
I tried not to let my shock out verbally. “Oh. Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, I started piecing things together beforehand. I suspected something, but I was just really far off-the-mark.” Mike’s eyes widened. “When you were attacked, and I saw the bite marks—I put it all together. How could I not? Plus, I saw that guy lift you like a feather and fly off. He moved faster than humanly possible, Ara. Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”