Shattered Promises 02 - Fractured Souls by Jessica Sorensen (motivational books for students TXT) 📕

“You can have it back.” He urges his hand at me. “I want you to wear it again, so you’ll be protected.”

I still don’t take the necklace. “I don’t understand why you took it off me to begin with.”

“Because Aislin had to use magic to get us out of the cabin,” he explains, slipping his hand under mine and forcing me to open my palm. “And if you would have had it on it would have hurt her.”

He lifts the necklace above my hand and releases it from his fingers, allowing it to fall into my palm. The metal is cold, yet his touch brings warmth. He chews on his bottom lip as he studies me while I put the necklace around my neck and secure the clasp. I feel weirdly better now that it’s back on, so I release a stressed breath, shutting my eyes for a moment, taking everything in. I don’t know what to do. What to believe. I know what I want to do and that’s pretend that Alex is a trustworthy person, but things aren’t that simple.

I open my eyes. “Alex?”

“Hmm…?” He looks distracted in his thoughts.

“What happened to the memoria extracto?” I ask.

He snaps back to reality and shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “Aislin and Adessa destroyed it with a spell.”

“And what about your father?”

“What about him?” he asks, his tone clipped. “I already told you I don’t know where he is.”

I observe his reaction closely. He’s upset about something. “But you said he’s immortal? And that the sword won’t even kill him.”

He presses his lips together. “Yeah.”

“That’s all you have to say?” I’m baffled. “Is yeah.”

He shrugs. “What else do you want me to say besides the fact that he is?"

“How about explaining why you never mentioned this and how we’re supposed to get rid of him if he can’t die.” I clutch onto the locket, wishing it could make me feel safe, too, rather than so vulnerable.

His expression hardens as he inclines back, putting space between us. “Even though he seems like he’s working for the bad side, he’s still my father and I don’t want to kill him.”

“Seems like he’s working for the bad side?” I fume. “Try is working for them. In fact, I’m pretty sure he might be the leader.”

“Of who exactly?” he counters heatedly. “The Death Walkers? Demetrius?”

“How the hell should I know? I never know half the shit that’s going on.”

“Exactly.” He stands to his feet, towering over me. “Which is why you have no right to make accusations.”

“I have the right to do whatever I want.” I rise to my feet very unsteadily and brace my hand on the bedpost to keep my balance. “Besides, the reason why I don’t know things is because you keep half the shit to yourself.”

“And now we’re back to where we started,” he snaps hotly, stepping closer. Even though I’m tall, he’s much taller and I have to tip my chin up to meet his beautiful, yet heated eyes. “No matter what I say, you never trust me.”

I point my finger at the door, ignoring the electric current boiling in my blood and dampening my skin with sweat. “Which means you can leave. That was the deal, right?”

His gaze darkens as he slants closer to me, stopping only inches from my face. I can feel my heart thrashing in my chest and I’m almost certain I can hear his as well, erratic and pounding. At first I think he’s going to kiss me and I wonder how I’ll react if he does. The need spiraling inside my body makes me speculate if I’ll make a dumb choice, one based solely on my hormones.

But then he steps back and raises his hands in front of him, surrendering. “Fine, you want me gone, then I’ll leave.” He storms to the door, pausing just in front of it to call over his shoulder, “Aislin put some clothes in the dresser if you want to get dressed.” He jerks open the door and steps out in the hallway.

“Where are you going?” I ask, but he slams the door shut, cutting me off and leaving me alone in an unfamiliar room with my thoughts and confusion.

I stare at the door for an eternity, trying to decide what to do. There’s no way he would really leave, is there? I doubt it, though I’m still not simply going to sit around and wonder.

I stumble over to the window, dizzy and kind of nauseous. How long have I been out? I glance outside at the city and the sun setting. Hours? Days? Weeks? I have no idea. The last thing I can remember is Alex holding the rock in front of me and then seeing images of what I’d be missing out on, or what I thought I’d be missing out on. Then I blacked out and saw my mom begging me to help her. The question is: was that a dream or something more?

Moving away from the window, I open the top dresser drawer and find a few clothes folded up inside. I take out a pair of very small, black shorts and a tight, maroon tank top that has a black ribbon lacing the front. Definitely not my style, but everything else in the drawer resembles the slutty gothic look so I slip them on anyway. There’s some sort of elastic in the shirt that pushes my breasts up and I feel fully exposed as I pull my tangled, long, brown hair up into a ponytail and secure it with an elastic that I find on top of the nightstand next to the bed. I carefully peel back the bandage on my wrist, wincing as the tender wound hits the air. It’s still fairly fresh, which means too much time couldn’t have gone by since I’d cut it open.

Sighing, I wrap it back up and search the room for my shoes. I find a pair of