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We’re soul mates.
The words have burnt themselves into my soul as if she carved them there herself. I turn away from her, because I refuse to look her in the face when she speaks so brutally, with so much fucking honesty. She’s certain, and the way she says the words terrify me.
They’re fucking torture.
We aren’t right for each other, is all I continue saying.
We’re related.
It’s forbidden.
It’s taboo.
Her fucking blood is my fucking blood, and no matter what way you cross it, no matter how many generations have been born between our birth and the first, the blood running through my veins is the same running through hers.
We’ll never be, and she’s going to have to get over it.
The car slams to a stop, and my palm slaps against the back of the seat, right next to her face. She turns her eyes to mine, her cheeks rosy, her plush lips pouting as she stares at me.
I lean into her, the elixir of her scent a fucking aphrodisiac I can’t turn away from. But I have to, because torturing myself now will only lead to a harder feat in the end.
I press my lips to hers for the last time, just a brush, knowing she’ll be weeping later, and I’ll probably be pranking some innocent fuck for standing in my way, just to get my anger out about our situation.
Pulling back, I whisper, “That’s the last kiss you’ll ever receive from me, little witch. The rest you’ll have to keep in your dreams.”
The trunk door opens, and I pull back before someone sees us in this position. Now that the guys know Hazel is related to us, it makes it even more awkward. She isn’t just my relative, she’s theirs too.
Will they continue with the enemy game, or will they become as protective as I feel I have to be with my own blood?
I turn away from Hazel’s hurt eyes, slipping from the car and turning toward the hill that leads to the school, or what used to be the school.
Are they just going to leave the rubble of wood and brick for the rest of time? Until it seeps into the ground? It’s all but been abandoned at this point, the police tape floating in the wind.
“Here goes nothing,” Hazel huffs, getting out of the trunk of the car. “Malik, grab the gasoline.”
He nods at her, reaching back into his car.
“So, what are we supposed to do?” Blaire asks, walking up to Hazel.
She glances at Blaire, a contemplative look on her face. “We’ll do whatever feels right, and hope this shit can be over with.”
With that, she lets out a sigh and makes her way up the hill.
I glance at Atticus, and he’s watching her oddly. “Somehow she’s so much cooler now that we’re related.”
Shaking my head, I stalk after Hazel. Not even wanting to dip my fucking fingers in that pile of shit. I refuse to ignore the pinch of pain stirring in my chest. The wish that shit could be as easy for me as it is for Atticus and Levi.
They don’t have feelings for her. They don’t know what it’s actually like to feel like the one person who you’ve ever had a connection with is the one person you can’t have.
It feels fucking wrong, and disgusting, but even with knowing what she is, it doesn’t stop the want.
No, theneed.
I crack my neck to the side as we make our way to the barren landscape where the school used to sit. Stepping over the broken police tape, we stand on the edge, our eyes scanning the glass and wood and brick that are colored with a hue of red from the strange, eerie sky above us.
I don’t understand it, to the point I refuse to ask questions about it. The less I know, the better.
“We need to reverse what we did initially.” She bends down, her hand brushing the grass. “Earth.” Standing up, she points to the sky, the dark clouds that roll past the red moon. “Water.” Digging in her pocket, she pulls out a black lighter. “Fire.” Her head tilts back, and she takes in an oversized breath. “Air.” And finally, turning to me, she opens her palm. “Give me your knife.”
