The Realm of Question

Chapter 11

Something different was going to happen that day. I felt it, as I sat in math class. Something new and unexplainable. Not that my life and time on this planet called earth was explainable. My cuts had turned to scars but it's still a mystery how they got there. The long ribbons of pure white flesh are a constant reminder of that mystery.

Mason had not said a word to me since the day in the hallway. Not a single word. It shouldn't have bothered me, I know, but¼it did. I missed his teasing and running commentary about my hair and how rude I was. I just¼missed his voice. He just sat beside me as stolid as a statue, not more than a hair's breadth away. That hair's breadth was made to feel like a football field in the quiet of the passing days, and in those days it just seemed to grow, until it felt as if we were not even on the same planet. The most I heard from him was "here" in attendance and sometimes not even that. On those days he just raised one pale beautiful hand. I now know what made this day different. He spoke. Not just spoke, he spoke to me for the first time in two months.

"Life is a funny thing, isn't it?" he said aloud, staring wistfully at the board.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I said in a whisper, just hoping he would speak again and not keep me wondering what was going on in the hidden depths of his dangerous mind. Oh what could one find there in the dark webs woven by thought spiders?

"The way things happen, you know, in strange ways you wouldn't expect." He finally turned to look at me for the first time in however many days it had been. I realized then how deprived I had been of him because my mouth opened into an 'o' shape. His eyes were an attractive light maroon and his pale skin looked so smooth. I ached to reach out and run my finger across his cheek and caress the hollow of his throat.

"Ana?" he asked, lifting one black eyebrow delicately. I just nodded, not knowing if the words would come out right. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. He reached out and did what I was too cowardly to do. His fingertip tenderly, almost fearfully, slid across my cheek and down my jaw line. I closed my eyes and leaned my head into his hand. Two of his pale fingers went down the hollow of my throat. His finger kept sliding down until it met the center of my collar, then to my breast bone where it stopped. I opened my eyes to see him staring intently at me. There were so many unidentifiable emotions in his dark eyes. Hadn't they just been light maroon? He slid his full hand up until it reached my cheek and he cupped it in his freezing hand. I shivered from my own frenzied emotion.

"What are you doing to me?" he whispered his eyes piercing mine. I could hardly breathe, let alone form words. Then, far too soon, the bell rang and he shot from his seat and out the door. I stayed seated as the rest of the class left.

"Anastasia, the bell rang. You're going to be late to your next class." My teacher scolded. I nodded breathlessly and got up but ended up falling on my feeble knees. I used the edge of the table to get back on my shaky feet. As I put out one foot in front of the other in an attempt to make it to my next class without passing out or dying from lack of oxygen, I began to ponder the difference between Josh's touch and Mason's. Josh and I slept in the same bed with hardly any clothes between us. Mason simply touching my cheeks and exploring the most innocent parts of my body threw my breathing and heart into near shock.

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As I stood outside Trish's bedroom to ask her exactly what these feelings meant, I nervously played with the edge of my lavender blouse. I knew the entire Hunter family had deep-rooted unjustified hatred for the Abaddons. They would act like true wolves whenever they came in contact. They'd do things like snarling in their human form and tensing and quivering almost as if getting ready to change in seconds. Maybe Trish could explain that too. Josh always withheld this information. He always tried to change the topic, which I let him do. I knew there was no point in pushing or prodding him for he would not even bend, therefore never break. I tapped hesitantly on her door.