Unbroken (Shattered Promises, #2.5)

Chapter 2

***This is from the unedited version and content may change*** **Mature Content Warning*** 17+ for language and sexual content.***

Chapter 2

After Gemma goes unconscious, lying dazedly in the sand below me, I hop off her  and scoop her up, carrying her toward the house. Her arm with the Mark of Evil hangs lifelessly to the side and her head bobbles around with my movements. I feel vaguely bad for what I did to her, but at the same time, it had to be done. Do what you have to no matter what the costs. That’s what I was taught to do and although sometimes I hate it, it’s times like these where I’m glad I don’t think twice.

When I get inside the house, I gently put her on the sofa in the living room. Aislin’s still gone, so I sit and wait for her, trying to think of a way to fix this and how the hell it happened to begin with. The Mark of Malefiscus is only supposed to appear on those that are of evil descent. Gemma can’t be—there’s no way. And how did it get there? Did it appear like a normal mark does? Or did Nicholas have something to do with this? The damn faerie seems to have some sick obsession with her? Or maybe it was my father that put it on her. Is that where she disappeared to for the last few hours? Did he have her trapped?

As she lies there out of it on the sofa, I stroke her cheek softly. We used to be so close, but now it seems like I barely know her and she barely knows me anymore. It’s my own damn fault, for letting everything go between us. A childhood friendship, one made of promises to be friends forever, and just because my father said so, I let it go. And now I want it back. Want to tell her what we had… what I want… what do I want?

As I’m trying to figure that out, she starts to stir awake. I hold onto her arms, figuring I’ll let her come out of her daze before I put her back under, give a few minutes to recuperate. But suddenly, like the snap of a lightning bolt, her eyes shoot open and she springs upward onto the sofa. Our foreheads slam together, like bricks smashing together. I fall off the edge of the sofa, blinking my eyes as my head starts to buzz, but Gemma doesn’t miss a beat. She jumps up and lands on top of me crouched over me like a cave woman.

“I have to kill you,” she says in a numb voice, her hair hanging over her face, a rabid look in her eyes.

My fingers wrap around her wrists. “No, you don’t.” I know it’s probably useless to reason with her, but I have to try. “Just back off me and as soon as Aislin gets here, we’ll get you taken care of.” I hope.

She laughs that snide laugh I’m not fond of while throwing her head back. “Take care of me. Don’t be absurd.” She lowers her head, cocking it to the side as she eyes me over. “Besides, I don’t know why you’d want to change me.” She lowers her hips so she’s straddling me, then she places a hand on each side of my head. “I figured you’d like me like this better.” She leans in, her violet eyes looking dark lavender, veering toward black. “Think of the things I could do to you.” She grabs my shoulders and her nails pierce my skin through the fabric of my shirt, draw blood, and for a split moment, sheer ecstasy flows through my body… Maybe she knows me better than I thought, knows how to get under my skin… maybe I should let her…

I shake the thoughts from my head. This isn’t Gemma. Just a warped, evil version of her. “Is that what you want?” I slip my hands out from her hold and grab onto her hips, pressing my fingers into her skin. “To show me the things you could do to me? Because I thought you said you had to kill me?”

She seems both amused and confused by my statement, which gives me hope that my Gemma is still in there somewhere. “I don’t know…” She leans closer, like she’s going to kiss me. “What I want to do.” Her lips touch mine and I don’t move, even when she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and bites on it. Fuck. This isn’t her. This isn’t her. That’s what I keep telling myself over and over again.

But I’m about to give in, flip her over, and tear off her clothes, the feel of the sparks, pain, and scent of her too overwhelming, when her fingers wander up my chest and to my throat. Grasping tightly, she starts to strangling me, her grip tight and restraining my airway.

“Like I said,” she whispers in my ear, her teeth grazing my lobe. “I have to kill you. I was just trying to have a little fun before I did.” As she continues to choke me, her free hand slides down my chest to my stomach, her fingers wandering all over my body. She smiles, enjoying herself as I reach up and grab her arm.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and her smug expression briefly falters.

“For what?” she asks, confounded.

“For this.” With one swift breath, I begin to drain the energy from her body, not taking it easier on her this time. I take as much as I can, until her eyes roll into the back of her head, until her body slumps to the side, until her fingers leave my neck. Before she can fall to the floor, I hurry and sit up, catching her in my arms.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I feel bad. She’s going to be out for quite a while and when she does wake up, it’s not going to be the most pleasant experience.

Gathering her in my arms, I pick her up, carry her into the bedroom, and lie her down on her bed. Then I get the ties that hold the curtains up and bind them around her wrists and ankles, then secure them to the bedposts, trying to ignore the fact that I’m enjoying this way too much.

After staring at her for longer than I should, I head across the house to check and see if Aislin has transported back, hoping she knows a spell that can remove marks somehow. But when I step into her room, I realize I have much bigger problems then a possessed Gemma. Because my ex-girlfriend is sitting in on the bed. My ex-girlfriend that has the touch of death.