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My fingers curl around the handheld device, my pulse soaring. I haven't felt this anxious since the first time I was dropped off at a group home. I was six, and up until then, I had been living in foster homes. I was so terrified of being somewhere different, of the unknown. And on my first day there, I went into a trance while I was being introduced to some of the other kids. That had me instantly labeled a freak, and I was tormented because of it, a couple of girls even cutting off my hair while I slept. I spent days crying to myself about it, which led to even more ridicule and torment. And that made me despise group homes. At least it did then. But as time moved on, and I experienced the darker side of life, I discovered that getting my hair cut off was mild compared to other punishments, and that group homes weren't nearly as bad as I had initially thought. I also learned how to deal with the unknown better, started weaving my skin with that metaphoric steel.
You can handle this, Haven. It’s just a couple of guys.
Of course, my little mental pep talk becomes irrelevant as the third party of the Death Triplets strolls into the room—Ollie, I think his name is.
He doesn’t say anything, his pale gaze simply gobbling me up as he studies me. “You’re very pretty for a maddening,” he states with a hint of curiosity. “Although, I’ve never actually seen one before.”
“Then how do you know I’m not ugly for one?” I find myself saying, again acting completely out of character for me.
But I don’t like being assessed this closely. Usually, people look the other way whenever I’m around, like they’re afraid to meet my gaze. The last person I crossed paths with that did make eye contact with me, and for far too long I might add, was Tim.
I cringe at the reminder of my foster father.
“Huh, I’ve never seen that before,” Phoenix muses, rubbing his jawline, his gaze skating to Ollie. “She’s completely disgusted with you.”
Ollie rolls his eyes. “If she’s disgusted, it definitely has to do with you.”
Phoenix’s bloodstained lips quirk as he steps toward Ollie. “Not likely. Vampires are way too alluring. Dark fey on the other hand…” He flashes his fangs.
Well, that answers my question about what kind of creatures they are.
The tips of Ollie’s fingertips spark. Actually freaking spark, like sparklers.
“Will you two stop arguing for one damn minute and focus on the problem we discussed?” Roman intervenes with heavy annoyance.
“Oh, yeah, right.” Ollie tears his gaze off of Phoenix, the sparks on his fingers dimming as he looks at me again.
All of them do.
I fight back the urge to gulp. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”
Ollie lifts a shoulder while Phoenix smirks. And Roman? His gaze darkens, those shadows on his skin appearing.
"You know, I'm surprised Sage and Mor assigned you to us." Roman steps toward me, his thick boots scuffing against the floor. "Considering my family's history with maddenings." He stops in front of me, and I fight back the urge to step back. "I can't decide if it was intentional, if they wanted to place you with a creature who would instantly hate you, or if they're just stupid. Honestly, with Mor, it could be either. Sage has always seemed smarter than that, though. But maybe she was distracted by Mor."
Ollie snickers at that and Phoenix elbows him in the side.
“Dude.” Ollie winces as he targets a dirty look at Phoenix, who simply rolls his eyes.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Roman demands, hooking his finger underneath my chin and forcing me to look at him.
That’s when my tongue becomes unstuck from the roof of my mouth. Well, either that or the hazing thing these guys can cause lifts from my mind.
I jerk my chin away from him, hoping to appear more confident than I feel. “Just because you’re supposed to be guiding me around this school doesn’t mean you can boss me around… I’m tired of being bossed around.”
A shadow casts across Roman’s face as he leans in, his breath dusting across my face. “I’m sure you are,” he says in a low tone that makes chills break out across my skin. “Your kind usually do most of the bossing around. Almost as much as they like killing other creatures.”
I sense then that this has more to do with him just being a jerk. He hates my kind for some reason.
“And I’m not about to let some killer come into my group and hurt my friends,” he adds, anger blazing in his shadowy eyes.
“I’m not a killer,” I tell him, loathing how shaky my tone has gotten.
“Liar,” he says lowly. “Your kind always cause pain and death wherever you go.”
I shake my head, but my thoughts drift to what I did to Tim and Mia.
I wonder if it’s permanent, if what I did to them will ever wear off.
