The Heirs: The Silver Knight

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Imogen

Guilt.

I can't sleep.

I just keep thinking about my behavior around Aleksander Sokolov. The unbridled...lust...I felt. That is not normal for me. My stomach twists and turns with sickness and guilt. Something awoke in me earlier today in that lighthouse, which only was solidified in the garden of the Black Wolves' mansion tonight. And it is something I greatly wish had not awoken.

I still love Rory. I still want Rory.

Tears threaten the backs of my eyes, but I know that if I cry, I'll wake up Tate and she'll ask what's wrong. I have to be strong. Whatever Rory died for, it is a dangerous darkness and I'm going to find out what it was.

I owe that to him.

It makes me sick that I could ever have any sort of lustful feelings for anyone else, let alone Aleks Sokolov. The dark lord.

For all I know, he may have had something to do with Rory's death. And here I was panting after Aleks – who I am pretty sure hates me already.

I have to stay focused. I grip the locket around my neck – a reminder of Rory's goodness, his heart, all he was, and all he deserved to be.

No more distractions.

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Neither of my parents are big phone talkers. Don't get me wrong, we text constantly. But we've never been like Ari and her parents, or Sophie and her parents. I could go days without talking to them on the phone and it would make no difference. But I'm always texting them.

It helps too, I think, to hide my secret from them. To hide the heartbreak over Rory. If they can't hear my voice, they can't hear something off with me. Iris and Sean Donnelly are both far too perceptive for their own good. It's a blessing and a curse.

Unfortunately, Trevor doesn't have a phone. Therefore, when I miss my little brother (which is constantly) I am forced to call.

It's late afternoon after my first classes and I'm sitting with a warm tea in my mug outside of the business building, watching as people meander towards their buildings.

It's about 8 in the morning back home, so I figure it's safe to call.

I take a deep breath, put on the façade, open my favorite contacts, and press Mom's number. She answers within seconds.

"Happy first day!" Mom's voice, with her light Irish accent, faded from decades of living in the States, coos.

"Thanks Mom," I smile, tugging nervously on the end of my braid.

"How are you, dove? Did you get all settled?" she asks.

"Yes. I'm all settled. How are things there?" I ask, quickly attempting to change the subject.

"We're good! I'm working from home today with Trevor. We're going to go shopping for his back-to-school things later. Do you know why an 8-year-old would need a calculator?" she huffs a laugh.

"Who knows? Knowing Trev, he probably already can use one in his sleep."

Mom chuckles lightly, a soothing sound. A sound I miss very, very much.