The Thought Keepers: Ability

Chapter 22: A Knowing Without Knowing

I still couldn't meet his eyes. I was afraid that I would associate his gentle gaze with one of cruelty and derision, that I would see Jake hidden within his dark irises.

Carson teleported me straight to his bedroom, which had been cleaned since I last entered. Strewn clothes and shoes were tucked away into the closet, the bed neatly made as he sunk down onto it and motioned for me to do the same.

I kept my eyes on the newly-vacummed carpet as I settled onto the edge of the mattress. Despite being terrible at tidying up his space, the room held the fragrance of freshly-aired laundry, probably because of the wet clothes hanging on the closet doorknob. I recognized the vibrant blue sweater that Carson had worn when I first met him, its downy texture like that of a dandelion.

I had been afraid of him then, afraid of the violence he displayed so easily- like it was nothing. I knew now that it wasn't indifference I had seen on his face, but numbness to the harshness of his actions. It was what all Unnormals did at one point or another; killing Shades so that they could live to see another day, and maybe keep loved ones from disappearing from their lives in a blink, and never being seen again. Now I knew that his decisiveness hadn't been wrong, and that it was the only thing that kept me alive.

He faced me first, keeping a light grip on my hand. "What's wrong, Kara?" Carson asked.

"Nothing," was my automatic answer, but it only caused him to sigh. His fingers were thin and long, holding a startling warmth. I wanted to knit mine between them, to press the soft skin against my face.

At the same time, I wanted to shy away from those hands. I couldn't help but to wonder if those hands would be capable of hurting me, if they could inflict the same kind of pain that I had felt before.

"Why won't you look at me?" He asked softly. There was a bit of hurt in his tone, and also an overwhelming regret. "Is it because you're afraid of me?"

I had to look at him then, sucking in a breath. "What?"

Dark ebony hair. Charcoal black eyes. Serious, but gentle expression.

"You've been acting strange since I told you-"

Purple eye circles. Faded acne marks. A crescent-shaped scar on his left shoulder, glistening with the iridescence attached to Shades.

"-wondering if you were scared of me now."

I blinked, eyelashes sticking together from an itchy drowsiness. "I'm not," I managed to say in as firm a voice as I dared.

"Then what is it?" He asked. "You can tell me anything."

I sighed. "Okay. Let me just-" I stopped mid-sentence, debating. Then I decided to just go with it. What did I have to lose?

"Don't be alarmed," I told him preemptively. "I just need to show you something."

He frowned. "What is it?"

I didn't know how else to tell him, so I slowly but surely rolled my t-shirt up. I closed my eyes, too afraid to see his reaction. "Do you see it?"

I felt him leaning closer to get a better look at my stomach, where he should surely see a stark blue handprint- the mark of a psychic attack. His weight lifted from the mattress as he sunk to the floor in front of me. His silence had me gnawing my chapped lip. I started to lower my shirt again, but he moved his hand to stop my progress. My stomach felt exposed in the cool air. "Carson, say something."

"Be still," he said simply. "I'm concentrating."

I felt him brace both hands on either side of my hips, using the bed as a way to lean over and brush his lips against my stomach. The sting of the pain was nothing in comparison to the soft warmth of him that lingered on my skin. I flinched, fingers twitching where they rested at my sides. "What are you doing?" I demanded with wandering eyes.