Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [112]
“It wasn’t me. We did it,” I corrected.
“I’m beyond grateful, Yara, but you weren’t supposed to take that sort of risk for me. I didn’t want you to.” He stood in front of me, his eyes still overly red from crying. He tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear then let his hand rest on my cheek, his thumb fanning softly across my face. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What would I have done if you were killed permanently this time? Why would you do that?”
“You already know why,” I said, looking away and stepping back. I remembered too clearly how he had reacted to my declaration of love and how he had shied away from our potential kiss in my room. I was a smart enough and had enough pride not to want to repeat those experiences. I shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”
The scarlet clouds on the horizon reminded me of blood. I pivoted away from them, shivering and taking a few steps into the groves. Brent caught my wrist and I curved toward him.
His rich brown eyes were dark, solid, no trace of jade; it was fully him. He looked like he wanted to say something but his jaw tensed and instead he let his hand travel from my elbow to my hand, the strong pulse from his fingers like a balm to my injured soul. I raised our entwined hands and placed them over the steady thumping of his heart a twin of the rhythm in my own chest. I pressed my head to his chest letting the steady pace of his heart and his citrusy, musky scent envelop me, lull me into a place of security. A place safe enough that I didn’t have to pretend I was okay. I failed to sniff back the tears that began to leak from me.
I should have been happy. I should have been relieved. I should have felt like celebrating, but I didn’t feel any of those things. I felt weak, fragile and helpless because all I could do was cry.
Brent put his arm around me whispering, “I know.” I wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with the fact that we had conquered Thomas, if he knew the real reason I had risked so much to save him, or if he understood why I was crying. I decided it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was holding me.
Chapter 18
A few days later, Cherie and I were in our room doing a complex pre-homecoming dance grooming ritual. All it really involved was snacking and getting ready with greater care than normal. Beauty supplies were strewn across our floor and cluttering our desks.
“So what did he do with the vial? Bury it?” Cherie asked.
“No, he bought a small padded safe for his room. He’s afraid to let it out of his sight.”
“Well, I don’t blame him.” Cherie shuddered. “So Brent was pretending to be hypnotized by the mist?” She asked before taking another big bite of her green apple.
“He said when I reminded him of my dream, he came up with a plan. That’s why he didn’t give them the necklace, but broke it, spilling the beads. He trusted me to know how to use them.” I removed the cotton from between my toes. I held out my foot, wiggling my toes as I examined the pale pink color.
“Why did I miss all the fun?” She complained, twisting the stem of the apple before it snapped off.
“You had the important job of guarding our bodies.”
Cherie guffawed at me and ended with a snort. “Lot of good I was, being frozen in time and all.” She tossed her apple core and the broken stem into her trashcan. “So even though Brent’s alive, you’re still going to the dance tonight with Dallin, huh?”
I plugged in my curling iron and laid it on my desk on top of a ratty blue hand towel. “Yeah, and Brent’s going with Sara. Thomas had asked her.”
“Oh.” Cherie cleaned her hands with a wipe and threw it in the trash. She patted her hands dry on her jeans and then took her blonde hair and piled it on top of her head, twisting so she could observe herself from every angle. Grabbing one of the bobby pins on her desk, she stuck it into the curls then grabbed some more, putting a them in her mouth.
“Why didn’t you both dump your dates and go together?” Cherie asked around the bobby pins pressed between her lips.