Part 9 (1/2)

He meets my gaze. ”I know.”

I'm barely out of the room when I hear the cup smash against the wall behind me.

EIGHTEEN.

Blake is staying at the inn over the pub where I stayed the night Austin returned. The entrance is through the pub, but only a few people sit at the bar, and none of them are Sons. A stout woman with short curly hair pours ale from behind the counter. She winks at me when I ask for Blake's room. At least she holds her tongue as she leads me to a narrow wood stair case in the back.

”Second on the right,” she says. I try to ignore the creaks in the stairs as I climb, but every sound is magnified, grating on my ears like shrill screams. I wipe my palms on my jeans when I get to the door. There's no sound from inside, and I let myself imagine he's out. The ruse is the only thing that allows me to raise my hand and knock on the door.

There's a rustling inside. ”Did you forget your key again?” Blake says from the other side of the door. I can hear the smile in his voice. My stomach flips over before I can remind myself that his smile is not for me. It's for Portia. My stomach sinks. Despite what I saw yesterday, some part of me still hoped there would be some perfectly rational explanation for him and Portia, like that's even possible. But it's pretty clear I saw exactly what I thought I saw. Portia has a key to his room, and Blake is happy she came back.

Blake flings open the door carelessly, a smile still on his lips. He wears a pair of faded 501s and nothing else, his blonde hair pointing out in odd angles like he just woke up. My chest tightens into a tight ball, robbing me of breath. I want to launch myself at him, to hold him and never let go.

Pathetic.

I keep my feet anch.o.r.ed to the floor in the hallway. His smile fades. ”What are you doing here?” ”Nice to see you too. Can I come in?” I don't wait for an answer. I step past him into a room that's only slightly bigger than the one I had. I resist the urge to touch him, pressing my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

The room is dominated by an unmade full-sized bed and a small night table. Blake's bag sits on a wooden stool, its contents spilled around it. There's barely room for the two of us to stand.

Blake looks down the hall and shuts the door behind him quickly. He runs his hand through his hair, which only makes it stick out worse. ”How'd you find me?”

”You found me. I've been here for the last two weeks.” Blake's stares at the floor. ”You need to leave.” I don't know what I expected from Blake, but it wasn't this indifference. There's no emotion in his voice. Not even anger. Doesn't he feel anything? I reach for his emotions without meaning to, trying to feel something, anything that will give me a clue to what he's feeling. Of course there's nothing. Nothing but cold, empty air. The hole in my heart where his soul had been. ”I was here first.”

”I'm serious. The Sons will all be here on Friday. They have a lead on Sherri Milliken.” His eyes meet mine for a second, but he looks away just as quickly.

Oh yeah, this will be easy. He can't even look at me. Good. I don't want to be with someone who doesn't trust me. Portia can have him and his fake f.u.c.king feelings. ”This was a bad idea.”

”Brianna?” For the first time since I got here, he looks at me. The vein in his neck throbs, but it's his eyes that give him away. He green eyes are sad, broken. ”Why are you here?”

I meet his gaze, and I'm lost in it. I step toward him without meaning to. I close my eyes, fighting the urge to take the step that will bring me into his arms.

Remember. Remember what he did. ”I saw you with her.” When I open my eyes. Blake's face is as impossible to read as ever. ”Was any of it true?” I blurt the one question I really don't want answered, but now that it's out, I can't stop myself. ”Was everything a lie?”

Blake sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his palm on his cheek. ”How can you even ask that?”

I inch back, until I'm pressed against the wall, keeping as much distance as I can between Blake and the bed. ”I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you automatically a.s.sumed the worst as soon as things got crazy at your sister's party. Or the fact that you started dating Portia Bruton the second you got rid of me.” A new panic sends my heart racing. ”Maybe you never stopped seeing her.”

”Stop.” Blake's voice is finally angry. ”The fire was bad, Brianna. Don't blame me for thinking what everyone in that room was thinking. I saw you with my sister. We all did.”

”So? I get why everyone else thought it was me, but I told you I didn't do it. That should've been enough. Forget it. It's fine. The truth came out. I know you don't trust me. You never did.” A tear drops onto my cheek. I turn to face the door, rus.h.i.+ng to wipe the tear away before he sees.

Blake gets up and walks behind me. My traitorous body warms at his proximity. ”How can you say that? I risked everything, including my life, to be with you. I loved you.”

I don't miss that he talks in the past tense. I grip the doork.n.o.b tight enough that my fingers hurt. ”When did you stop? When the bond was broken? At your sister's party? When?” I'm talking through tears, but it doesn't matter now. Let him see. If I can't make Blake feel how broken he's left me, at least I can make him see it.

He turns and kicks the bed. ”I don't know.”

He stopped? He really stopped loving me? I want to scream. I choke it back as I turn on him. ”I gave up everything for you.” My heart. My power.

He pins me further against the door with his hard stare. He takes another step toward me, stalking me like prey. ”No, you didn't. You killed me, remember? Then you sulked around my family like they were poison. You didn't even try to get along with them. All you wanted was for us to bond again. You wanted my soul, but I was never good enough.”

”And Portia? She gives you what you want? Can you screw her brains out without having to worry about losing your soul in the process?”

”You don't even know what you're talking about.”

”I know what I saw.” Wind whips around my hair. My wind.

”Stop it.” Blake backs up a step, but his legs. .h.i.t the bed frame. ”I don't want to fight you.”

”Why? Afraid I'll kill you again?”

”Brianna.” Blake's eyes plead as the wind picks up the clothes on his suitcase and flings them to the bed. The lamp on the nightstand smashes against the wall. ”Stop.”

I lift my palm, stopping the wind as quickly as it started. Blue arcs of electricity spark between my fingers. It would be so easy to turn everything into a flaming ball of fire. To watch it burn. To end this once and for all.

Blake grabs my wrist. ”Don't.”

We both freeze, his hand searing my skin with the strange, sick chemistry that draws us together. His touch fills me with a different kind of fire, a flame that licks at my core and makes me want to melt into him.

”I hate you,” I say, but the sparks in my hands recede. My blood is still hot, charged with the heat of Blake's touch. He closes the distance, and then his lips are on mine and his chest is against mine and his hands are on my shoulders and my waist and my hips. I kiss him back instinctively, my body responding to the call of his soul even as my brain screams for me to stop. His hands tangle in my hair, as he brings me down on the bed underneath him, pus.h.i.+ng and pressing until his legs twine through mine and our bodies connect at every possible point. I claw at his bare back, lost in the electric heat of his touch as his hands move underneath my s.h.i.+rt, turning me to molten lava.

We are fire and fire.

The kiss is full of his anger and my anger, grasping for each other through the physical connection, feeding off each other. We shared our souls once, and my body aches to feel him again. I barely notice the silver thread of light that spins around us, getting faster and faster as Blake's hips press into mine, as his kisses get wilder.

Yes.

Wind whips around us, urging us closer.

He wants me. I can take him for myself. I can bind Blake to me and never let him go.

The G.o.ddess in me urges me to do it. To take everything he once promised. To wield my power over him in a way he can never escape. While I still can.

The girl in me fights to the surface. Blake accused me of forcing the bond on him last time. I don't want to feel Blake's anger and resentment and bitterness, all of which will inevitably follow.

I don't want to be bound to someone I can't trust.

All at once, I understand exactly why Austin pushed me away last night. I thought I wanted Blake, but not like this. It's not enough for Blake to want me. I need more. I need something Blake may never be able to give, bond or no bond.

It takes every bit of strength I possess to push against his shoulders and break the kiss. The silver thread of light dances around us still, but at least now he sees it.

”We have to stop,” I say.

Blake starts to protest, his lips moving back against mine. Then he notices the way the light folds around us and stops abruptly. He pushes off me, sitting up on the bed, his breath coming in quick gasps.

The wind dies first. After a few seconds, the silver light fades to nothing.

”You stopped it.” Blake lifts his hand, and for a second I think he is going to reach for me, but he jerks it back and runs his fingers through his hair instead. ”Why?”

I scramble off the bed, retreating to relative safety of the wall by the door. ”For someone who used to share my emotions, you don't know me at all.” I need more than this physical connection. I need more than to feel his emotions as if they were my own. I need something Blake has never been able to give me.