Chapter 12 #2
Jullia waves it off but gives me a hug before she and Asher leave. I put the earbuds in and press play on the playlist. Buffalo Traffic Jam’s Fool’s Gold starts playing and I have to close my eyes for a moment to stop myself from allowing any tears to spill over.
People take music for granted. The power of melodies and lyrics and beats. There’s magic in music. It can heal the spirit and soul. It can give hope to those in despair and shield the mind when there’s nothing to shield your body.
I lied to Thorne when I said I used to harm myself to distract from the devil. A good enough coverup to explain the scars. What I really did was hum melodies. I’d trap my conscious in my mind and surround it with songs.
Then afterward when the nightmares would take over I’d play music to help keep them away. Ms. Elaycia gave me a music box that would repeat over and over and a majority of the time it would stop the nightmares.
Music has saved me more times than I can count.
The song ends and I finally open my eyes. You Again by Jonah Kagen starts playing, and despite it being a sad song I smile. I can’t relate to it but I can feel the movement of it anyway.
Slipping the device into my pocket, I release my hold of the neckline and begin wheeling the cart into the room.
And since no one is around who could hear me, I start humming to the music.
In addition to listening to the music, I would occasionally sing too.
Ms. Elaycia loved having me sing at night when she wanted a more sultry vibe for the back end of the club.
Despite it being for getting men even more so in the mood, I still loved it.
The piano version of Jade LeMac’s Constellations starts up and I start mumbling the words to it. I had written over a hundred songs on that list Jullia had been talking about. Knowing her she probably added every single one on here.
I’ll have to do something extraordinary to say thank you. This. . . giving me music. . . there’s no greater gift.
Pulling out the bucket and mop, I start cleaning this first section. With my music time moves differently. Faster, or maybe I finish the tasks faster. I never minded cleaning – as long as I had good music. And with my music, nothing could much bother me right now.
Section after section, area after area, equipment after equipment. I don’t miss a single inch of anything. This room is about to be cleaner than it has ever been before.
“. . . long tan legs and her cowboy boots,” I hum with a smile, “sippin on shine in her daisy dukes, take me for a ride on the way you move, drivin’ my blues away. . . “
You can’t not bop your head to Joseph David-Jones. Even though I’ve only listened to two of his songs, no matter what mood I’m in they always hit.
“Let’s yippee-ki-yay in my black Chev-aay, Z seventy-one on a bale of hay, damn, you look good on my tailgate. . . drivin’ my blues away.”
I finish mopping this mat and wipe my forehead.
Who needs a workout when you can just clean a gym?
My arms slightly tremble as I lift the mop and stick it back in the bucket of dirty water.
Flo Rida is currently blaring in my ears with Good Feeling and I take a mini break to nod my head to the beat as I shimmy my shoulders.
“I get a feeling. . . that I never, never, never, never had before, oh no, I get a good feeling. . . “ The laser feeling base drop hits and I do a little spin while nodding my head to each bump of the base. “Let’s get it, let’s FUCK!” I rip the ear buds out and clutch my chest as I veer back.
There’s a slight smirk on his face before he neutralizes it. “What the fuck are you doing here!”
My heart is pounding in my chest and threatening to come out through my throat. Thorne is standing about ten feet away doing nothing but watching me. At least he has a shirt on now.
But. . . how long was here there? He couldn’t have been there for long. Why is he here? Doesn’t he have president society things to do? Aren’t there parties he should be at?
More thoughts and questions ping pong in my head as I take long, deep breaths.
Normally I’m more aware of my surroundings, especially when I have both earbuds in.
I’m usually able to sense when I’m being watched.
That just means he couldn’t have been here for long.
Unless I was too absorbed with the music to notice?
“Can I help you with something?” I ask cautiously. Before today I hadn’t seen him since Saturday night. I haven’t seen Darian either and Callahan hasn’t tried speaking to me since Monday when he asked about my paper.
I had finished it Monday night and went to Professor Asier’s classroom Tuesday morning before breakfast to see if I could hand it in.
He wasn’t there so I had just left it on his desk with a note stating I was incapacitated because of circumstances that were out of my control.
I don’t know if Thorne or Castiel told him about what happened, but he didn’t say anything today about it and my grade on the portal had been updated to a ninety-four percent out of a hundred.
There weren’t any notes for why I wasn’t given a hundred percent, but I’ll just assume the six points were docked because it was technically late.
Whatever.
“What were you singing?” he asks lowly, which for some reason is one thing I didn’t think would come out of his mouth.
My heart returns to its normal pace, but it feels like its beats are stronger. Thumping hard against my ribs as I shift my weight and lick my lips. His eyes dart down before looking back up with an expectant expression.
Lady Gaga’s Applause can be heard from the earbuds and I didn’t realize how loudly I had the music.
“Uh. . . a song?” I shift again. I don’t know if he knows about the things from Earth. “Good Feeling – from Flo Rida. . . ?”
He cocks his head and glances down to my hand still tangled with the wire.
His body it nearly entirely rock solid. I can’t make out what he’s thinking or read anything from his body language.
Jullia didn’t make it seem like listening to human songs would be illegal or anything. Maybe he’s just curious?
“Do you sing often?”
His tone also isn’t telling me anything. Mild curiosity – maybe. Or maybe I’m too nervous to read anything from it. Nana says I can be oblivious sometimes even though I’m an excellent observer and can notice things others don’t.
“Yes. . . ?”
Something lightens in his expression by a decimal point. “Are you asking or telling me?”
I give him a dry look. “I did on Earth.”
He hums and slides his hands into the pockets of his shorts. They’re the same ones he was wearing when he was training with Asher. I’ve been here for at least two hours so does that mean he hasn’t gone back to his room to change?
“What’s your favorite song to sing?”
My shoulders tense and it must be a visible reaction because his eyes drop to them.
“Why are you here?” My voice sounds more solid now. More blunt, less hesitant.
His face goes back to a cold mask as she shrugs.
“I heard someone singing and was wondering why there was someone still in here.” His eyes rove down me and lock somewhere around my neck and chest where my necklaces are.
His dark red eyes start to slightly glow.
I blink and he’s now standing directly in front of me.
It makes my heart jump again and when I try to step back his hands grip my arms and hold me in place.
“What. The. Fu – “
“Who is he,” he growls. His voice so low and gravely I almost couldn’t make out the words. I’m about to go off on him when he growls again, “Who is he. Who put a mark on this body.”
He doesn’t ask it, he demands it. So much power rolls off him it reaches every corner of the room instantly. His aura is so deep and thick I can almost see it. The red wisps weaving in and out of visible sight.
A cold sweat breaks out over my skin that causes my scars to itch. I forgot about that scar still visible. He can see it clear as day.
His hands tighten and I squeeze my eyes shut against the rumbling power of his magic. It feels almost suffocating. So much death.
“He’s dead,” I choke out. Keeping my eyes firmly shut and head slightly turned away. His aura is more than the devil’s ever could be. “The devil, he’s already dead.”
Long been dead, too bad I’m still haunted by him.
So much, too much, too all-consuming his magic is. More than I have ever felt before. Emotions can heavily influence the power of your magic but his anger is unwarranted.
Clearly my words don’t satisfy him because his aura is still visible when I crack my eyes open.
One of his hands leaves my upper arm to grip the collar of my shirt and it snaps me out of my frozen state.
I take both of my hands and grip his wrist to stop him from pulling my shirt even further down.
If it gets pulled down another inch the top of one of my other scars will be seen and if this is how he’s acting from just seeing one of the bite marks I don’t want to imagine how he’ll react seeing the other scars.
Not that he has any reason to act in any sort of way towards them. He has no reason to be angry or demanding or anything else he could be feeling in this moment.
So why the fuck is he making a big deal about it?
“You said he bit your wrist,” he growls. “Where the fuck else did he bite you?”
He tries to tug my collar but I plant my feet, tighten my core, and hold his arm in place. His eyes flash in rage but I cement myself where I am and don’t budge. My body has waned since I haven’t trained in the last two months, but that doesn’t mean that I’m weak.
“Take your hands off of me. Now.”
Slow, deliberate words. There’s no power or aura to back my words up but my tone holds an air of deadly energy anyway.
It’s enough to make Thorne pause and actually look at me.
Dark red eyes shining with an inner light behind them focus straight on mine.
His pupils are blown making his glowing iris’s look like thin rings of red light.
A breath passes before he takes a measured step back and releases me. Immediately I take several steps away from him as I pull the neckline of the jumpsuit up. His eyes don’t leave mine as I do it and I wonder what is about to happen next because why does he freakin care.
He should care less about me. I am no one to him. I am no. One. And that’s the truth of it. So insignificant am I that a lone fucking scar shouldn’t matter. Even if I were to strip to nothing right now it shouldn’t matter. The scars that cover my body. They. Don’t. Matter.
You don’t matter.
Your worth is designated by what I say it is.
Curling my nails into the collar, I squeeze my eyes shut and block out the words.
His voice fracturing within my mind the same as if he was right here in front of me speaking aloud.
An echo etched into my skull, his voice a sound I’ve never been able to forget.
His deep timber, the rumble that comes from his chest, the instinctual knowing I always got when is tone darkened signaling he was about to sink his fangs into my flesh.
It’s trapped in my head. The voice, the words, that same instinctual knowing.
“You can’t bite me,” I whisper out loud.
Because I know in this physical space I am not six years old in that manor standing before him.
I am nineteen, stronger than I was before, standing within the grounds of Syngenia University on Miy before Thorne.
Before a blood demon who cannot bit me, cannot mark me, cannot drink my blood or force me to drink and mark him.
I open my eyes to gold. White threads of light flicker through with a ring of black around golden iris’s. They look like twin suns.
People forget the power of a sun. We need them for life. For warmth and growth and stability. But get too close and you burn.
Everyone forgets that message of Icarus. People like to romanticize the story. They say he may have fallen, but to fall is to know what it was to fly. That doesn’t help a dead man. That doesn’t save you as the wax melts and the wings break.