Words of Power (Alice Gray Book 3)

15

My eyelids fluttered open as the weightlessness continued. I expected to find myself still in Jonathan's great hall, but it wasn't Brad who was causing this relaxed feeling. My fuzzy vision focused on Thomas's deep brown eyes at precisely the same moment that I realised he was cradling me to his chest.

Since Lucas's wolf had claimed me into his pack, the connection that I shared with Thomas had eased. The pack bond had crept in and taken a little bit of space up in my heart, it had warmed my soul with friendship and companionship so that I no longer experienced physical symptoms of discomfort when apart from Thomas.

But our bond was still there, it was predestined by fate, or God, or whatever the hell was in control up there. A giggle burst out from the depths of my belly as I considered that I might have just met the one in charge.

What if Brad, scruffy jeans and surfer name, was the Almighty?

The giggle petered out as Thomas's lush lips twisted into a crooked smile, and his eyes glazed over with the look of indulgence that I'd seen in them last night.

Last night, when I'd also seen what the vampires were doing to my father. How they were torturing him.

He must have noticed. The second after my eyes went hard, every muscle in my body tensed in a domino effect from my heart outward. Confusion and then a flicker of alarm flashed in the pools of his chocolaty eyes as I struggled for him to put me down.

"What's happened?"

"Put me down Thomas. Right. Now."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

I struggled some more, even though I knew there was no way that I could sway his rock hard hold on my body. I could just about stand up to him when my power was flowing. There was no chance for me without it.

That's when the vibration of energy hummed a quiet tune in my blood and I remembered. I wasn't without my power now.

The Eye had blinked and I'd got it back.

I almost let the power grow, let it feed from my bond with Thomas so that I could put him in his place. But I stopped myself just in time. I had to be smarter than that.

I stopped struggling and lowered my eyes in an attitude of defeat, whilst clamping down on that subtle vibration of power and focusing inward until the hum became indistinguishable from the blood pumping through my system.
A vamp wouldn't be able to look past the blood to find the magic, and I wasn't ready to show my hand. Not to Thomas.

Telling him would be as good as calling the head vampire James Device and filling him in myself.

The last thing I wanted to do was warn them that I was coming, and that I was fully loaded and ready to blow.

"Are you ready to tell me why you ran from me," Thomas asked, the thick honey of indulgence in his tone telling me that he'd taken my silence as sulking because he'd won whatever petty battle was playing out between us.

If there was one thing I could always rely on, it was Thomas Potts's arrogance.

My eyes slid to the side as I tried to figure out why my pack had left me alone with a vampire when they knew I didn't want to see him.

"They're waiting outside," Thomas said, interpreting my body language correctly this time.

"Why?" I blurted out, forgetting that I was trying not to engage with him.

"Ralph read my intention so they know that I mean you no harm. That I'm incapable of hurting you. You should know that by now Alice."

Irritation prickled through me; at Thomas, at my pack, at Ralph. Why the hell did everybody think the overbearing vamp had a right to say his piece? If I wanted to deny him an audience, I should have that choice.

"Incapable of hurting me, but what about everybody else," I muttered under my breath, knowing full well that his vampire hearing meant that he caught every word.

"What has happened?" Thomas asked again, his voice hardening as his patience wore thin.

"I want to see my father before the trial," I said, refusing to answer the question.

"You can't, he's in rehabilitation. It's too dangerous."

"For who?" I muttered again.

Thomas dropped my legs to the floor causing my bare feet to slam onto the cold tile.
I glared up at him waiting for an answer.

Cold eyes raked up my body, still only covered by the scrap of a dress that I'd worn out to the club. Heat flushed through me as my heart picked up speed under his scrutiny. Thomas may be pissed but he was still hot as hell.

"No," he said, meeting my glare with eyes that flashed crimson.

"You'd deny me what might be my last chance to see my father?"

"Yes," he said, half word half growl.

Holding my trembling hands to my sides, I forced myself to meet his crimson beams. There was something there. Something other than annoyance.

It was guilt. And in it I saw the lie.

Oh dear. Thomas is on the outs again. But can you blame Alice?