Behind |First book in The Risen Saga|

Chapter seventeen

The sky was getting darker. Dark enough that the Night Children could go out without being killed. Watching from the window of the skyscraper was always something that made me feel uneasy. The window could see so much and in some ways I loved it, but in other ways I hated it. I loved how it would give me the feeling of danger, like the height itself was challenging me. But I hated how it made me want to jump, just to see how fast I'd fall.

I turned around as Tyson walked out of the bathroom, steam making the ends of his hair curl which I noticed was growing out. He needed a hair cut. He had jeans, riding low on his hips, and no shirt. The deep indents on his sides now obvious. 

He walked over to his bag, that was set right beside the desk. I watched how his bicep muscles twitched when he moved, my eyes roamed to his back, his spine shifting under his skin as he bent down.

"I know I'm great to look at but it makes me feel like I'm an object," Tyson stood up, holding some clothes and looking at me. After I forced my eyes to move to his eyes I let out an internal sigh. My favorite chocolate was dark chocolate, the color of Tyson's eyes. But they weren't like chocolate. They were like a liquid brown, lined with black. I noticed the deep tint of red that had shown up since he had gotten bit. The red made it that much more beautiful. 

"Sorry,"  I said, a blush creeping to my cheeks.

"No that's alright. I kinda like you looking," he gave me a mischievous smile, dropping his clothes and taking a step towards me. I smiled back. Did I want this? I loved Tyson but I didn't know if I was ready. Was I?

I sucked in a shaky breath and took a step back, hitting the wall. Tyson didn't take it as a rejection, instead, he walked the rest of the way to me and grabbed my wrists, pinning them to my sides. He placed small kisses along my jaw line, down my neck, my shoulder, down to my-

"Tyson," I whimpered. He pulled back instantly, letting my wrists go and taking a step back.

"Sorry, did I hurt you? Are you hurt?" he kissed each of my fingers and looked at me through his lashes.

"No, you didn't hurt me. I'm fine," I said, "I just... I don't think I'm ready yet." I said so quietly that I barely heard my own voice. The hurt in Tyson's eyes was obvious but he recovered, straightening and turning around to grab his clothes off the ground.

"I hope there's still hot water," he said, walking past the steam and into the bathroom. The door shut and I felt it like a stab to my gut. I had always hated hurting Tyson but this seemed like it was a blow to his heart and I didn't want this to be the last time I saw that familiar sparkle in his eyes. 

I pushed off the wall and sat on the bed, the sound of the shower hitting the stone of the shower floor filling my ears. Today, when we went to the field, I felt something. It felt homely but like a stranger at the same time. Like I could feel the pressure of the wind, the gentle hands of the dust floating around me. It felt like it was a sort of entity, like you were being watched at all times. Every step you took was being followed by the eyes of the hidden. 

It felt like...power. If power had a touch it would feel like that. Wanting something but scared to go for it because of the whispers of what might happen. It was nothing like the air around the room. 

The steam from the bathroom seeped from under the door and it made my lungs feel like they were going to cave in. The softness of the blanket under my hands making it comforting. 

The sound of the water turned off and about ten minutes later Tyson walked out, hair dripping onto his grey shirt, making dark spots on his shoulders. His worn jeans hanging low on his hips and his eyes looked set into stone. Like a statue's, no emotion, no pain, no despair. Nothing.