Alpha Vaughan

Chapter 22

"Twice when you were on the verge of coming yesterday, your eyes had flashed bright teal. Care to explain why?"

My mouth opened, then closed right back again. There was no need for me to hide my abilities from Vaughan or anyone here-- like I had done with father and my former pack-mates at Stillmoon. I reasoned to hide it here would be pointless, where I could quite possibly remain forever. It was better to get it out in the open first before they found out and thought I was some imposter.

I made to answer him then but was cut short when our drinks arrived.

After the waiter had gone, Vaughan faced me again. "So?"

"So," I said. "I was getting to it."

I positioned an empty glass in front of me. Fiddling with it, I said, "The things is, I don't know why.  It's been that way since I was little." When I was seven and could 'make flowers dance' with my mind, I'd thought it was a gift, my gift; right until I'd broken a boy's arms without really meaning to, then it became a curse. "You see," I continued, "I can control things with my mind."

He continued to look at me in that expressionless way of his. He said, "Show me."

Expelling a silent breath, I Intently focused my gaze on the glass, willing it to lift. When it didn't for a while, I positioned my hand in front of it, willing, willing. I didn't realize I'd stopped breathing until I felt lightheaded.

Dropping my hand immediately, I released an aggravated breath. It wasn't working. I realized it only worked when I was feeling really strong emotions like fear and anger.

Vaughan languidly sipped from his glass. "You haven't touched any alcohol yet, but you're already inebriated."

Face flaming, I rolled my eyes and kept the glass back in place. I got my glass of Martini and sipped it, letting the sweet, salty taste slide down my throat.

"Have you always been this delusional since you were a child?" Vaughan asked.

I looked at him crossly, about to rip into him but stopped when I saw his lips curl. He was messing with me. "Didn't know you were capable of a smile either," I said.

That wicked glint entered his eyes again. "I told you, I'm capable of a lot of things."

Ignoring the double entendre, I leaned in, interlocking my fingers and resting my chin on it. "Like telling me about your curse?"

"That, I am not capable of."

At length I faced the waterfall again, drowning my disappointment in it.

Vaughan's voice drew me away from my thoughts. "Who are you closer to, your mum or your dad?"

"My mum passed away when she gave birth to me, so I would say. . . my dad."

Looking into my eyes, he said, "I'm sorry for your loss. But just because your dad is the next alternative doesn't mean you must like him."

I didn't. I noted that whenever Vaughan spoke of my father, his tone grew colder than it normally was. It could be because of that time in the maze, when he'd told me no father who truly loved their daughter would give her away to him. Even now, thinking about that day that seemed so far away, soured my mood.

"What are you thinking about, Hilda?"

About how much of a prick you are. I mentally slapped myself over the head; it wasn't his fault father didn't love me.

"And you?" I asked, feeling a bit surprised I knew nothing of his family. "Who are you closer to? Your mother or your father?"

Face stoic, he said, "Both passed away when I was sixteen."