Wicked Kiss
Page 103

 Michelle Rowen

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He grimaced at the reminder of our last kiss. Emphasis, I sincerely hoped, on last. “You know, I think I’m finally going to take a hint. I can’t deal with it, Sam. You push me away and tell me you’re not interested in me, but then the next moment you’re all over me. It’s not cool. I deserve to be treated better than that.”
“I totally agree. You deserve way better that I’ve been treating you lately.” I forced myself to step closer to him, into the orbit of hunger, and studied his face.
He watched me warily. “So what are you doing now?”
“Testing something.” I waited for the desire to kiss him to grip me, for whatever remained of Colin’s soul to pull at my control like a baited hook like it always did.
But there was nothing. I sensed nothing from Colin or anyone else in the halls.
Nothing!
A smile burst forth on my face and I threw my arms around him to give him a tight hug. He didn’t hug me back.
“Nobody likes a tease, Sam. I’m not interested in any more of your games.”
I let go of him immediately. “Sorry. I, uh, I’m really sorry, Colin. For everything. I hope we can still be friends.”
That lost look he used to have when around me was gone. He wasn’t irresistibly drawn to me anymore. More tangible proof that I was finally free—and so was he. “Yeah, sure. Just...no spontaneous hugging, okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
We went to English and I sat there, face forward, trying to pay attention. Despite my lousy grade the other day, school was supposed to be my oasis. My touchstone. My way of feeling normal. This was what I’d clung to recently to keep from totally falling apart.
Unfortunately, it didn’t work so well anymore.
I tried to ignore this mysterious new hunger inside of me, this strange gnawing emptiness, but it was next to impossible. If it wasn’t for food—or souls—then what the hell was it?
At lunch, I searched the halls and the cafeteria for Jordan, but she was nowhere to be found. I asked some of her friends where she was, worried she might have gotten into more trouble last night after the Halloween party or worse, fallen back into Stephen’s clutches. They confirmed that she’d texted this morning that she’d definitely gotten home safely after the raid. And that her father was furious with her for disappearing for two days without any explanation and then immediately taken off, in full Cleopatra gear, to a party.
“She’ll be grounded till she’s forty,” one girl said with a malicious grin.
She was probably right.
All day I tried very hard not to think about what I now knew about Bishop.
His name. His past.
All the people he’d killed that had earned him a date with a noose more than a century ago.
I already knew he was an angel of death, but this—it felt worse. It felt dark and evil and unredeemable.
There had to be more to it. In fact, I had no doubt there was. But still, why couldn’t he have been the one to tell me any of this instead of his vengeful brother?
After a full school day where the most dramatic thing that happened was witnessing two kids have a screaming break-up fight in the hall by my locker, I went home and let myself inside, locking the door behind me.
Part of me wanted to go see Bishop, but the other part was too chicken to face him.
“Pathetic,” I grumbled. “Some super powerful Heaven/Hell hybrid you are, hiding your head like an ostrich when things get scary again.”
Fine, I was pathetic, but I wasn’t an ostrich. I just needed a little more time to process all of this.
Everywhere I looked around the house today, especially as I tossed out the remainder of the Chinese leftovers, I saw Cassandra.
She had secrets she wouldn’t tell anybody, too, when maybe we could have helped her deal with them. I wondered if that was an angel thing.
I missed her more than I ever would have thought possible.
It was after six and getting dark outside when the sound of someone pounding on my front door yanked me straight out of my memories. I approached the door cautiously, peeking outside past the bamboo blind to see who it was.
Red hair. Green eyes. Furious expression.
Reluctantly, I opened the door.
“I really hate you,” Jordan informed me.
“Good to see you, too.”
“You’ve ruined my life, do you know that? Ruined. My father thinks I’m some sort of lying juvenile delinquent since I won’t tell him where I was. He threatened to send me to live with my mother. I do not want that. Like, ever. She ignores me way better from a distance.”
She seemed paler today, making the scattering of freckles stand out that much more on her nose. “Are you all right?”
“Stellar. Really stellar, thanks so much for asking.” Her glare was like a laser beam cutting through my skin. “You?”
“Super duper.” I pushed the door open wider. “Do you want to come in?”
“No.” With a glower, she brushed past me as she entered the house. I scanned the driveway where both my mom’s car and Jordan’s—a Mercedes sports car I knew her mother had bought for her—were now parked, and the street beyond to see that no one else was lurking around before I closed the door. “You took off last night during all the drama and I didn’t see you again. What happened with that angel dude? What happened with the ghosts? Is Julie okay?”
“Everything’s...” I grappled for the right words, but found myself at a loss. “Everything’s a bit better today, I think. Julie’s spirit is free. She’s not trapped here anymore.”