Wicked Kiss
Page 65

“Right. Well, she’s gone. I figure she’d headed to school.”
I moved a little so I could look into her eyes. Deep into them. And I accessed that part of me that allowed me to read the minds of demons. It was part of what made me dangerous as a nexus—the unspoken truths of a demon...or an angel...could be used against them. The secrets of Heaven and Hell lay just behind their gazes. That was what I’d use to find out who she was, what she wanted and what had really happened with Jordan.
However, there was one problem.
I couldn’t read her mind.
And there was no wall there to stop me. There was just...nothing.
She wasn’t a demon. She was human.
A man walked down the hall.
“Joe,” she called to him, moving to the doorway. “Listen, it was a great breakfast meeting. Let’s do it again soon, okay?”
“Sure thing, Eva.” He grasped her hand and shook it firmly.
She didn’t devour his emotions, leaving him a suicidal wreck. Of course not. This woman was one hundred percent human.
Jordan was wrong. She must have figured that out herself and headed back to school.
I let out a huge, shaky sigh as relief washed over me.
“I have to go,” I said.
“What about the show?” Eva asked.
“I’m not interested, sorry.” I escaped from Divine Model Management as fast as I could. My heart pounded hard, but my previous anxiety lifted. I’d honestly thought something bad had happened to Jordan on her search for the truth.
While she wouldn’t have gotten the answer she needed, my nemesis would still be breathing. Who knew I was so concerned with her well-being?
With a lighter heart and renewed optimism that this was a sign of better things to come, I headed to the bus stop, turning at the corner up ahead.
“Samantha,” a familiar voice greeted me.
My breath caught and I pivoted to see Stephen standing there, as if waiting for me.
“You...” I managed, shocked. Seeing him gave me a rush of conflicting emotions—happiness that he was still alive, and wariness...that he was still alive. He’d been so sure last night had been it for him, that he’d been going into stasis, that he’d convinced me, too. “You’re okay. I thought last night... I—I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Yet, here I am.” He drew closer. He wore a knee-length black wool coat that matched the color of his hair. His cinnamon-colored eyes scanned the street before they fell on me. A few cars went by. “I have something for you. Something you need. And it’s time I gave it to you.”
My soul. He had my soul and he was finally going to give it back to me!
“Thank you, Stephen,” I said, my throat tight. “Where is it?”
“This way.” He nodded to a car around the corner, parked at the side of the curb.
I followed him, still wary, but hopeful. He opened the passenger-side door and pulled out a wrapped cloth. I drew closer to see, my heart pounding.
“Is that my soul?” I whispered.
He unfolded it and I waited to see what was inside, but it was only a cloth. And it smelled strange.
I frowned. “What is that?”
“Like I said, it’s something you need.” Then he grabbed me, his arm an iron vice across my chest.
I fought back immediately, shrieking as he pressed the cloth over my mouth and nose. I scrambled under the edge of my skirt to grab the dagger and pull it free from its sheath, and then tried to stab Stephen with it. He caught my wrist before I could make contact. His grip tightened until a lightning bolt of pain wrenched through my wrist and I heard a sharp crack. My cry of pain and fear was muffled by the cloth, and the dagger clattered to the pavement.
He was strong—so strong. He’d broken my wrist like it was nothing more than a twig.
All I smelled were harsh chemicals. I kept fighting against him for a few moments longer before darkness welled up all around me, dragging me down, down, down...
Chapter 20
Chloroform.
I was sure that’s what Stephen had on the cloth. I’d only seen it in movies before. Now I’d experienced it in full Technicolor unconsciousness.
I wasn’t sure how long it was until I started waking up. As soon as awareness began swirling around me and I peeled my eyelids open a little, the cloth was at my mouth again. I barely had a chance to struggle or summon a scream before darkness welled up.
This happened twice more before I finally came to full consciousness. My head ached. The world around me was blurry. My chest hurt when I inhaled raggedly and hoarsely, followed by a dry, wheezing cough. My broken wrist throbbed.
I lay on a hard floor in a small, dark room—small enough that my claustrophobia kicked in immediately and my heart began to race. There was a tiny window near the high ceiling that let in enough light to tell me it was late afternoon. I tried to breathe, in and out, and may have let out a small moan.
Apart from my headache and wrist, the next pain I felt was sheer, unadulterated hunger.
“Finally. Thought you were never going to wake up.”
I blinked several times until I finally shifted my gaze in the direction of the voice—also the source of my current hunger.
Jordan was crouched next to me.
“Get back,” I croaked out.
She shifted backward to give me some space. It helped a little.
“Where are we?” I managed. “What are you doing here?”
Her expression was pinched as she looked around. “Where we are? No idea. Some room with a locked door. What am I doing here? I’m guessing it’s the same reason as you. You didn’t come here of your own free will.” A bit of her bravado slipped away and I could see the fear in her green eyes. “I thought you were dead.”