Amaranthine

Chapter Thirty

© Copyright 2011
All work is property of Leah Crichton, any duplication or reproduction of all or part of the work without explicit permission by the author is illegal.

Impetuous: (im-pech-u-ous)

characterized by sudden or forceful energy or emotion

impulsive or passionate

When we were out of sight of Damien, Orion set me on my feet. My knees wobbled and almost gave out. He steadied me, wrapping one arm around my waist and reaching behind my back with the other to untie the rope. My skin was raw from the friction of the cord and the fresh air bit at the wound.  I winced. My lips were fused shut, keeping words trapped inside them.

His eyes kept pain hidden behind them that I couldn’t even begin to understand. “Look what he’s done to you.” He held my face in his hands, taking me in like he hadn’t seen me before. Even in the darkness, his lips found the spot on my forehead where Damien had slammed it into the dashboard. He kissed it and spoke softly: “We have to get out of here, but I’m going to fix it, okay? Promise.”

Once we were in the car, silence enveloped us until I couldn’t stand it any longer.  I choked on the words that burned my tongue like hot flame on the way out. “Damien’s your brother.” 

Orion’s gentle eyes looked my way and flashed.  I watched them turn callous, uncaring. “I don’t have a brother. He’s dead.”

“So are you. Sort of.”

“No, I’m not.” Defensively, he reached over and took my hand to place it on his chest. His heart beat in a steady thrumming underneath my palm. “Do you feel that?” he asked bitterly. “Don’t ever forget that feeling because as long as it is there, as long as my heart is beating, I’m not dead.” 

“He told me everything,” I said to him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry all of that happened to you.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“I am. I am sorry for you.” 

His dark features pinched together. "I just told you not to be. Don’t. Don’t cry for something not worth crying over.”

“You’re worth crying over. I’d shed every tear I have for you. Orion, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Listen, don’t you think for one second you know about any of it.” His words were cold and final.

“I just. . .” My eyes welled again. “I just want you to know I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he stated flatly. “You’ve said. You should get over it. I have.” I couldn’t believe how unkindly he was treating me. He wasn’t the person I knew. I wanted that person back.

Trying to calm him down, I switched the focus of our conversation. “Where are we going?”

“To my house. Can’t really go to yours right now.”

“You actually have a house?” I hadn’t thought of this before, but did he actually live here?

“That’s a stupid question,” he scolded. “Yes, I actually have a house. I did sleep somewhere before your bed. Look, I know this may be hard for you to understand, but I am a living and breathing person. I may live far longer than anyone else, I may be different, but I am living. Like you are. For now.”

His mood was stoic. I decided not to push anything any further than I already had and closed my eyes. The horrible events had taken their toll. I dozed off, waking only when we pulled up to a driveway.