Cold Hearts and Stubborn Minds

13

Thursday Night

For the rest of that week we avoided each other. I wasn't completely sure who was avoiding the other more. Every time I saw him my cheeks grew hot and every time he saw me he'd make his expression neutral and turn around, walking the other way.

"Are you guys mad at each other?" one of the girls asked, Christy.

"No, no, nothing like that," I said, and before she could ask anything more I told her that I had to go. I didn't know how to explain it, but we definitely weren't mad at each other.

I lay in my bed, my face pressed into the pillows, my eyes tired from reading. I had gotten so into the book that I forgot to stop, and when I did, it was ten at night.

I sit up again and yawn, rubbing one of my eyes. I stare at the wall, not knowing what to do. I wasn't tired, not necessarily. More like confused.

I lean against the headboard and sigh and then stand up and stretch. I hear my left shoulder crackle because I had propped myself up with that arm. There really wasn't a comfortable position for reading unless you had a million pillows shoved into a corner and used them like a chair.

I walked over to the window and leaned against the wall there. Outside, the backyard was visible. Just a few trees and some pretty white flowers that vaguely reminded me of Dylan's eyes.

I blushed at the thought. Any thought I had concerning Dylan recently made me blush, simply because I couldn't get that memory out of my head, him kissing me and matching my own need.

I blushed again, a bit brighter this time. When this had all started I never thought any of this would happen. I never thought he'd warm up to me, never thought I'd be the one running from him. I certainly never thought he'd kiss me. In fact, I thought he'd ignore me altogether.

I sighed. There was still so much to learn about him, where he came from, what he was, exactly. I learned what topics to avoid and which ones made him smile.

I press my forehead against the wall, and at the exact same time I hear a thump. I didn't hit my forehead against it or my hand. Or any part of me at all, in fact.

I heard a slight groan and immediately knew what it was. Dylan. He was sleepwalking.

I briefly thought about the first time he did that and blushed. His wings caressing my face and body.

I then remembered something. His wings and neck. That first time I had stroked them, he had stopped me, and when I touched the tattoo on the back of his neck. Those were his sensitive spots.

I knew how to get him back.

I turned around and was surprised to see, not Dylan, but the little girl, almost my height now, somehow. I blinked a few times. How-

She grabbed my wrist and started pulling me towards the door. I panicked and yanked my wrist back. "What are you doing?"

She turned and glared at me. I couldn't remember if Dylan had told me her name, only that she was a brat.

And bratty was the best word to describe her.

"Mine," she hissed.

"I am not yours, thank you very much," I hissed right back, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Yes you are," she snaps. "You're supposed to be. I don't care about the stupid bond."

"What bond?" I ask. I then sigh. "I am not yours and that's final."

She growls and then lunges for my wrist again. I swing my arm and it hits her face, though not hard enough to do any real damage.

She backs me up against the wall, snarling at me. I try to push her away but she just ins my wrists to my sides. "Sit down," she commands.

"No," I say sternly. "I don't take commands from brats."

"That's it!" she exclaims. A stinging sensation traveled up my arm, making me cry out. Something wet and warm runs down my hand. I try to see what it is but it's too dark.

"Get off me!" I yell, trying to squirm away again. "Get off!"

"Not until you give yourself over," she hisses.

"No!" I exclaim, shoving against her.

She yells and somehow pulls me to the ground, pinning my waist, legs, and wrist down. I panic, yelling obscenities and trying to roll over.

"You're mine now," she says, a murderous glint in her eyes.

I decided on one last tactic, though wondering how he hadn't heard yet. "Dylan!" I yell, then, louder, "DYLAN!"

"No!" she yells at me, covering my mouth with her hands. "Shut up!"

I thrash about, trying to get free from her grasp. How can such a tiny girl be so strong?

I manage to roll us over so this time I'm pinning her down. I pull her hands free from my mouth and shout, "DYLAN!" once again. She growls loudly and tries to bite my arm.

"Damn it!" she shrieks when a dark figure appears in the doorway. His trench coat is missing and he has a scratch on his cheek.

Dylan walks into the room, his eyes glowing brightly. He looked mad.

He grabbed me by my waist and pulled the window open. Just before he leapt out, he turned and faced the girl and said, "Next time, I won't be so forgiving."

He then leaped off of the window sill and into the sky, his wings unfurling. Her shrieks could be heard far into the night.