I remember the conversation Laylen and I had in the kitchen. “So they’re okay?”
He nods. “Yeah, they’re okay—everyone is okay. Everything is going to be okay. God, it’s nice to be able to finally say that.”
Why does it feel like there are pieces of the story missing? “Did you talk to them yourself?”
“Who? Aislin and Laylen?” he asks and I nod. “No, I tried like a thousand times before my father called, but their phones went straight to voicemail.”
“Then, how did your father get ahold of them?”
“They called him from Adessa’s.”
“And where are they now?”
He eyes me over suspiciously. “They’re all headed here. Why?”
“And what about Marco and Sophia?” I say, cradling my bandaged hand as I tip back. “Where are they?”
“I’m not sure, yet,” he replies with a dash of annoyance. “When we went back to Laramie, we couldn’t find anyone.”
None of this makes sense and it’s frustrating because he doesn’t seem to care. It’s like he’s blind—brainwashed. “And what about your father? Where was he this entire time?”
“He was out in Magia Terra.” He takes my injured hand in his and traces the folds between my fingers.
“Magia Terra?” My body responds elatedly to his touch, but I tell it to shut the hell up.
“It’s like this wasteland where useless or broken magical objects are dumped,” he explains as his finger roams to my palm where the knife entered. “He does work there a lot and there’s no reception whatsoever. I don’t know why I never thought of it before.”
“But he’s back now?” I frown as he brings my hand to his lips and he delicately kisses the bandaged area. He’s being weird. Too affectionate.
He nods, then picks me up by the hips and turns me around to face him. “He’s headed here now, so relax.” He kisses my neck as his fingers sneak up between my legs and he spreads them open so there’s one on each side of him. “Everything’s fine.”
Everything isn’t fine. I have no idea where we are, what happened, or what exactly was said when Stephan finally called. I’ve missed a lot while I’ve been out and the only person that has been completely honest with me isn’t here.
His fingers travel up the top of my leg and he kneads my thighs with his fingers. “Relax, everything’s okay.”
I crane my neck and glance back out the window at the snow-covered land. “Where are we?”
“We’re in one of the Keepers cabins in Colorado.” He fixes a finger underneath my chin and makes me look back at him. “Can we stop talking about this now? I’d really rather be doing other stuff,” he says in a demanding tone and then he leans forward and kisses me freely.
It’s completely out of character for him. Usually, he’s either out-of-control or trying to restrain himself and the last time we talked, he made it pretty clear that he thinks of me as just the star. He’s too comfortable, as if he suddenly thinks it’s okay to kiss me and touch me. I need to stop him and get some answers.
“I think we should…” I begin to protest against his lips, but I trail off as his tongue determinedly enters my mouth.
His hands slide up to my waist, leaving a trail of heat on my stomach as they touch my bare skin. Turning us to the side, he winds one hand around my back and covers my body with his as he lays me on my back. He spreads my legs open and positions his body between my legs and we fit perfectly together. At least for a moment, but as his hand wanders up the front of my shirt and cups the outer layer of my lacy bra, I remember how powerful his touch is and I scream at my brain to snap out of it.
It works. I wiggle my arms between us and, with effort, push him back. “Is there any way I can take a shower? I’d like to wash off all my cuts.”
He pants, his green eyes glossy as he studies me. Then, his hand leaves my shirt and sneaks between my legs. “You want to take one right now,” he says, rubbing me.
My body quivers for his fingers to be inside me, but I fight against it, and remain in control. I nod because I need a second to clear my head and try to figure out what’s going on.
He sighs and then brings me with him as he stands to his feet. He tugs my shirt back over my stomach and tucks a few pieces of my hair behind my ear. Then he laces his fingers with mine, leads me across the room and scoops up a bag near the doorway. “While we were in Laramie, we stopped by your house and picked up some of your clothes and stuff.”
“Thank you,” I say and take the bag from him.
He leans in and kisses my cheek. “You’re welcome.”
If it wasn’t for the flow of electricity, I’d think he’s the mirage because Alex is not affectionate. Hot, intense, irrational, maybe even a little bipolar—yes. Loving and caring—no.
He shows me where the bathroom is and then makes a joke about taking a shower with me before leaving. I’m lost and I don’t know what to do. Jump out the window and run through the mountains? Trust Alex? Trust Stephan?
I strip off my clothes and let the water run hot before I step in and close the curtain. Rinsing off my body feels like I’m rinsing off the last few days. By the time I step out, I feel a little bit better. Not trusting, but better.
The room is overflowing with steam and I can barely see. I feel around for a towel and then wrap it around me. When I head to the counter where my bag is, the steam parts open and reveals a figure standing near the door.
I step back and tighten the towel around me. “Hello?”
He takes a step forward and exposes his dark green eyes, messy brown hair, broad shoulders and an amused smile on his lips. It looks like Alex, but I can tell right away that it isn’t by the lack of voltage in my body.
“Shit… You’re the mirage.” I back toward the shower, smacking my knee on the corner of the porcelain tub as I work to hold the towel together. He matches my moves, mimicking my pace, and then speeds up when I reach the stained glass window in the corner.
“And you’re Gemma.” His voice is soft like velvet, alluring even. “Beautiful, confused, poor, broken Gemma.” He trails his fingers along the top of the towel, just above my chest. I bend my knee to kick him, but he bends his own and his knee caps restrain my legs against the wall. His hand drifts toward my neck and I let out a scream as I smack his hand away.
He slaps his hand over my mouth, snatches ahold of my wrists, and twists my arm in a very awkward position. Then he spins me around so my back is pressed against his chest and his arms snake around my midsection. I raise my foot and fling my leg back to kick him, but he hops away and dodges my endeavor. His arms constrict around my arms and his skin is warm against mine, but not in the same way as Alex’s. He has a strange smell to him, like lilacs mingled with freshly fallen rain. The smell is pungent and makes me nauseous.
He covers my mouth with his hand as he directs us toward the door and I bite down on his skin. “Dammit.” He slaps the back of my head as he curses and I swing my head back; making us lose balance and we slam into the toilet.
As he works to get us both to our feet, without letting go of me, the door comes crashing in and Alex rushes inside. The blood promptly drains from his face. “What the fuck?”
The mirage laughs disdainfully as his arms wrap back around me. “Hello to you, too, old friend.”
“Old friend?” My eyes widen and I freeze. “Alex, you know him?”
Alex shakes his head, looking as perplexed as I feel. “Who are you?”
The mirage shakes his head. “I’ll be the one asking the questions.”
Alex glances at me for an explanation and I shrug. He cautiously takes a step further inside the room, closing in on us. “Why? You have no place to go.”
The mirage laughs again. “I think you’re forgetting what a mirage is and how we travel. I can be out of here quicker than you can blink, if I want to.”
“Fuck.” Alex stops moving and clenches his fists as he battles to contain himself. My body lets out a terrified shudder. I’ve never seen him worried. Usually, he’s the man with the plan, but he looks helpless and lost.
The mirage’s mouth moves next to my neck and a floral scent whelms my nostrils. “Shudder again and I might just take you back to my house instead of where I’m supposed to take you. I could have a lot of fun with you.”
I angle my head to the side and cringe. The towel is slipping loose and he has himself pressed up against me in every strategic place. “Back off, pervert.”
“If you touch her, I’ll break off all your fucking fingers.” Alex dares another step into the room so the only thing between us and him is the sink. “And since I’m pretty sure you know what I am, after all, you seem so dead set on being me, then you know what I’m capable of and just how good I am at breaking bones.” He pops his knuckles and neck.
The body of the mirage begins to quiver and vibrate. The possibilities of what he could be doing spin a web of disgust through my body, but Alex seems pleased by whatever he’s doing. He continues to shake and shiver faster and faster, until he conclusively lets out a jolt that lurches us both forward.
“Nicholas Harper.” Alex crosses his arms and a patronizing look arises on his face as the mirage skims his arms down to my waist.
I slant my head back to look at the mirage. His hair is no longer brown, but a sandy-blonde and his eyes are as golden as the desert sand. He’s shorter than Alex and a little thinner, but probably around the same age. It creeps me out to see him in real form, not because he’s bad looking, but because I realized he’s basically a shape-shifter and he can be anyone.
“You know, it’s really fun messing with your head,” he says and his real voice is higher. “And that scene in the forest was priceless. I’ll never forget the scared looks on your faces.”
Alex shakes his head. “I’m not sure why I’m surprised. I always figured you’d end up with something like the Death Walkers. Tell me, when did you decide to switch sides?” He’s acting arrogant and condescending which I normally hate, but, at the moment, I’m thoroughly entertained.
“I didn’t switch sides,” he says with irritation. “I was merely having fun with this lovely girl right here and the Death Walkers just happened to show up at the right time. It couldn’t have been better timing if I planned it myself.”
“That was all it was about?” Alex doubts with a frown. “To simply fuck with our heads?”
“There’s always a purpose.” His shoulders lift up and then descend as he shrugs. “But, it doesn’t mean I have to divulge it to you.”
“What about the other time?” I question and Alex looks at me for clarification. “The one in the parking lot? Where you were pretending to help me with the Death Walker?”
“Mind manipulation. Foreseer’s are excellent at it.” His breath stings at my nose and I almost gag at the floral scent. It’s so powerful, like he’s recently eaten rose petals. He strengthens his hold on me, arms tightening as he urges me closer to his chest. His heart beats through his chest and against my back, slow and rhythmic like a drum. “She’s a beautiful thing, isn’t she?”
