Hot-Blooded Hearts (Bleeding Souls duet #2)

Chapter 1 Gedeon

GEDEON

I’d been taught that when you closed your eyes for good, nice and warm memories would envelop you in their embrace, cocoon you while you drifted away.

But my journey had taken a different route.

I had ended up being the only soul finding sanctuary in this secluded bay, the beach hidden by the rocky cliffs. The sea sparkled in the moonlight, the water black, the waves non-existent, as though nature itself had paused in wait for something.

Something pivotal. Life altering.

Little did it know, it had already occurred.

The night sky shimmered with white dots the size of damp sand grains sticking to my dark jeans and well-worn boots. Even after my life had expired, those gods Kali imagined living among the stars had ensured my attire matched that of my past life.

With my elbows on my bent knees, I scratched my jaw. The coarse stubble pricked my fingertips, the sensation lacking compared to how Kali would stroke from my chin to my earlobes right before kissing me and then grinning—a sign she was about to demand something I wouldn’t like.

Rising, I brushed the sand off my pants and wandered down the shoreline, alongside the tiny ripples of glasslike water claiming the bay’s territory.

The brine permeated the crisp air so intensely, I tasted it in my inhales, the saltiness beckoning me to rub my neck, precisely how Zion had done once. How he had pulled me close by my nape.

He had lit something up within me, an ember I had long thought gone, and now, I reveled in the flames.

A rush of wind whipped my leather jacket, and the chill slithering under my black hoodie reminded me of how Kali’s and Zion’s wicked smiles used to warm me from the inside out.

How his teasing remarks would raise my temperature, and how her love for pastries would make me ruminate if I should learn to bake myself.

Merely ten weeks had passed since Kali had sunk her knife into my abdomen, yet I already missed them.

But my old life, my compound, was theirs now. The second that blade had sliced me open, I had been reduced to a ghost. My time had come, whether by natural causes or not, but such a fickle thing as death couldn’t hinder my efforts in ensuring their dream of freedom came true.

I would take myself out of the equation to increase their chances of success a million times over.

15 YEARS OLD

“You pri—”

Zion dunked my head into the sea.

Freezing water numbed my senses, yet I floundered in his firm grip on my hair. Despite knowing better, I instinctively inhaled—

Salt burned my nostrils, the liquid fire trickling into my lungs, and I clamped my mouth shut. This wasn’t the first time Zion had provoked me by creeping up and shoving me underwater this summer.

But the pressure on the crown of my head disappeared, and I broke the surface, coughing and blinking away the seawater. Wiping away the snot dripping from my nose, I swore, “I will kill you.”

His laugh pierced the roar of waves rippling around his hips. “Not if I get you first.”

“Who said I would do it now?” Digging my toes into the seafloor, I took a single step towards him, relishing how he retreated to keep the distance between us. “I know how you spend your time. So believe me when I say that I will catch you.”

He hiked his shorts higher, the soaked material clinging to his skinny body. “Oooh, I’m so scared!”

“You better watch your back.” The too-bright autumn sun hovering above us made me squint. “Because you will pay. I swear it on your sister.” I gestured to Ayla wading through the sea, her bright pink t-shirt soaked all the way to her waist.

His younger sister was pouting, a habit she undoubtedly had picked up from her older brother.

“What?” Zion threw his arms wide right as a white-peaked wave crashed into his back. Struggling to stay upright, he hissed, “What do you want, Ayla?”

She fixed him with a glare. “Mom said you have to look after me.”

He swiped his hair away. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re ignoring me,” she seethed. Two years younger than him, yet she had mastered her brattiness to perfection. I loved her. “I could have drowned!”

“But you didn’t,” he grumbled.

Her tiny hands flew to her hips. “Yet.”

Adorable. So much that I greeted her. “Ayla.”

Coming to flank me, she mimicked my tone. “Gedeon.”

I smiled at the little devil at my side. “Would you like to play a game?”

Zion’s face went slack. He knew what it meant whenever the two of us teamed up. “N—”

“Hell yes,” she interrupted him, a sparkle of excitement leaking through.

Zion scratched his chest, his nails leaving haphazard lines of pink. “Where did you learn that word?”

She scoffed. “Not your business.”

“Ayla!”

She snickered. Truly, she was the best accomplice I could ask for. As close as Zion and I were, he still had no clue his sister and I had made a pact: whenever he pissed me off, she helped me to take him down in exchange for me teaching her some…not very nice words.

Or as both of us liked to call it—a game.

I tousled her sun-kissed hair, earning a glower in exchange. “I have a task for you.” This dissipated her ire, and interest took its place. Leaning into her ear, I asked, “Can you pretend that I’m telling you how I’m going to destroy your brother? If you do this, I will explain what ‘fuck’ means.”

Serious as ever, she gave me a curt nod. “I can do it.”

I struggled to contain my amusement. Ayla had been pleading with me to reveal the mystery of the swear word for the last month. Had said her parents had heard her use it once and reproached her for it. So, obviously, she desperately needed to know what it stood for.

“You have my word.” I extended my right hand for her to shake. Better than the pinky promises she had subjected me to at the beginning of our partnership.

Satisfied, she deadpanned to her brother, “We will hand you your ass.”

“Godsdamnit, Ayla.” Zion rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know where you are picking this up, but please, for the love of gods, don’t speak like that near our parents. They think it’s me teaching you! I’ve already gotten enough lectures from them.”

She twisted a lock of her straight hair around her forefinger. “What? You don’t like my filthy mouth?”

Zion’s jaw dropped, and I clutched my core from laughter.

I had shared this line with Ayla just last week, after Zion had gotten me in trouble at school by picking a fight with me. Naturally, I had also convinced his sister to sprinkle a spoonful of salt on his school lunch for the following four days.

And now, hearing her say the phrase out loud, in that high pitch of hers…it couldn’t get more hilarious. Particularly when she popped her hip out, just like I had instructed her. I doubted she understood exactly what the saying meant, but Zion surely did.

“Zion! Ayla! Gedeon!” A breeze toyed with their mother’s loose, pale-blue pants as she waved from the shoreline. “Come back; you’ll freeze in there!”

“Let’s go.” I tucked Ayla into my side, away from Zion, who was failing to stare her down.

You protected the co-conspirators of your crimes. And she was the cutest of them all.

As we trudged toward the yellow-and—white-striped beach blankets spread far from the cliffs casting a shade on the sand, he asked, “What did you tell her?”

Raising my chin, I relished the last sunshine before autumn brought on the rain. “That’s our secret.”

“Oh, come on, it was a joke. It’s not like you’re actually going to do anything to me.” He scratched his chest again, deepening the paths his fingernails had left before. “Right?”

I smirked. “You can beg as much as you want, Zion, but I am.”

17 YEARS OLD

“Give me that.” I snatched the dark green glass bottle from Zion’s lap.

But he didn’t react, his reflexes obviously delayed.

Instead, he straightened his legs, shuffling to find a more comfortable position on the withered log, one of the three surrounding the bonfire in the forest—a favored spot by many.

Including Damia and Conall. But if the former let loose—like right now—the latter always looked after the fire to avoid setting the entire area ablaze.

The summer had brought the drought with it.

Sniffing the liquid, I recoiled. Damia’s grandpa made some strong shit. Understanding how anyone could drink this evaded me to this day. It incinerated your insides instead of giving you a buzz.

“Get your own.” Reaching to grab the bottle back from me, Zion hiccupped. “What was”—Hiccup—“that?” Hiccup. He burst into a bout of laughter, slapping his thighs and leaning into Conall beside him. “Hic”—Hiccup—“—cups.” He covered his mouth. “Oh, no.”

Conall snorted. Looking right at me, he nudged Zion. “Your dad is here.”

I fixed him with a dirty look. “You know we have an early meeting tomorrow to discuss the expansion of the compounds? Led by our parents? Yours included?”

“I do. But it’s you who has to sit at the head of the table while we can sleep in the back,” Conall said, moving down the damp log to make way for the dancing and singing Damia.

Her tiny floral skirt billowed as she twirled around the fire, her dark, tight curls bouncing on her bare shoulders like a fluffy cloud.

“The boy drank the aaaale, the girl ate the whaaaale, the mom was in a disarraaaay, the dad—” Bumping into me, she caught herself on my chest, and beamed in her signature smile of ‘there’s nothing good to come, but don’t you dare tell anyone about it. ’ “Gedeon.”

“Damia.” I steadied her drunken ass. “Those are not the lyrics.”

“It’s okay, you know. You don’t have to be perfect. I bet I could come up with some lines to include you.” She tapped my nose with the last word.

I pulled the strap of her yellow tank top back up onto her shoulder. “I think you’ve had enough.”

She giggled, and I took hold of her waist to prevent her from sprawling on the forest floor, the ground razed both by the summer heatwaves and the endless bonfires.

“Maybe.” Her pungent breath invaded my nostrils. “But don’t tell anyone.”