Evermore - Alyson Noel [65]
But I don’t care about Damen. I don’t even care about me. All I care about is Haven, whose lips are turning blue, as her breath grows alarmingly weak.
“What have you done to her?” I glare at him with all the hate I can muster. “What have you done to her, you freak?”
“Ever, please, I need you to listen,” he pleads, his eyes begging mine.
And despite all my anger, despite my adrenaline, I can still feel that warm languid tingle of his hands on my skin, and I fight like hell to ignore it. Yelling and screaming and kicking my feet, aiming for his most vulnerable parts, but always missing since he’s so much quicker than me.
“You can’t help her, trust me, I’m the only one who can.”
“You’re not helping her, you’re killing her!” I shout.
He shakes his head and looks at me, his face appearing tired when he whispers, “Hardly.”
I try to pull away again, but it’s no use, I can’t beat him. So I stop, allowing myself to go limp as I close my eyes in surrender.
Thinking: So this is how it happens. This is how I disappear.
And the moment he relaxes his grip, I kick my foot as hard as I can, my boot hitting its target as he loosens his grip and I drop to the floor.
I spring toward Haven, my fingers slipping to her blood-covered wrist as I search for a pulse, my eyes fixed on the two small holes in the center of her creepy tattoo, as I beg her to keep breathing, to hang on.
And just as I reach for my cell, intending to call 911, Damen comes up behind me, grabs the phone out of my hand, and says, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.”
twenty-four
When I wake, I’m lying in bed with Sabine looming over me, her face a mask of relief, her thoughts a maze of concern.
“Hey,” she says, smiling and shaking her head. “You must’ve had some weekend.”
I squint first at her and then at the clock. Then I spring out of bed when I realize the time.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, trailing behind me. “You were already asleep when I got home last night. You’re not sick are you?”
I head for the shower, not sure how to answer. Because even though I don’t feel sick, I can’t imagine how I slept so long and so late.
“Anything I should know about? Anything you need to tell me?” she asks, standing outside the door.
I close my eyes and rewind the weekend, remembering the beach, Evangeline, Damen staying over and making me dinner, followed by breakfast—“No, nothing happened,” I finally say.
“Well, you better hurry if you want to make it to school on time. You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to sound clear-cut, unambiguous, sure as sure can be, as I turn on the taps and step into the spray, not sure if I’m lying or if it’s true.
The whole way to school Miles talks about Eric. Giving me the lowdown, the entire step-by-step of their Sunday night text-message breakup, trying to convince me that he couldn’t care less, that he is completely and totally over him, which pretty much proves that he’s not.
“Are you even listening to me?” He scowls.
“Of course,” I mumble, stopping at a light, just a block from school, my mind running through my own weekend events, and always ending at breakfast. No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember anything after that.
“Could’ve fooled me.” He smirks and looks out the window. “I mean, if I’m boring you, just say so. Because believe me, I am so over Eric. Did I ever tell you about that time when he—”
“Miles, have you talked to Haven?” I ask, glancing at him briefly before the light turns green.
He shakes his head. “You?”
“I don’t think so.” I press down on the gas, wondering why just saying her name fills me with dread.
“You don’t think so?” His eyes go wide as he shifts in his seat.
“Not since Friday.”
I pull into the parking lot, my heart beating triple time when I see Damen in his usual spot, leaning against his car, waiting for me.
“Well, at least one of us has a shot at happily ever after,” Miles says, nodding at Damen who comes around to my side, a single red tulip in hand.
“Good morning.” He smiles, handing me the flower and kissing my cheek,