“I wanted to finish the drawing before he gets here,” I interrupt as I put down the eraser pen to stretch the kinks in my back and yawn.
Her cerulean eyes flick to the finished drawing. She shakes her head, saying, “It turned out beautiful. I can’t believe someone so talented came out of me.”
“Eww, Mom, gross.” I shudder and push back the chair to stand.
“C’mon, go shower. Breakfast is ready,” she tells me, then turns on her heel toward the stairs.
A bright flash, and I’m back in Kaiden’s office. The excruciating pang between my eyes not only sears my brain but makes my stomach lurch. I stand abruptly, sending the chair sprawling at my back. It hits the floor-to-ceiling windows with a loud thud as I dash toward the en suite bathroom in Kaiden’s bedroom at lightning speed. I barely make it in time to retch my last meal and all the cocktails I drank earlier into the toilet. When there’s nothing left, I slump on the floor and wait for the tremors wracking my body to subside as tears flow freely, soaking my fanned hair.
I saw Mom again.
This was the first time I’ve gotten a memory flashback while awake, and that drawing…It’s mine. I did it. Not only does he have something I drew hanging in his library and his office at the club, but he’s got almost all the drawings from my sketchbooktattooed on his body. I know this should scare me because the gesture screams he’s obsessed with me—that he’s been obsessed for years because as far as I know, I haven’t picked up a pencil since I woke up from the car accident at fifteen. Instead of being terrified, though, all I feel right now is warmth at the thought that he’s carrying a part of me on his skin.
I’m so fucked in the head it’s not even funny at this point.
Blowing out a shaky exhale, I close my eyes and replay the flashback on a loop until the chill of the tiles seeps into my bones. The weird dream I had before waking up in the cathedral crypt after the vampires kidnapped me pushes to the forefront of my mind, and now I know for sure it wasn’t just a dream.
“Her nose is a little bigger in reality, don’t you think?” Chester says as he pops out of thin air next to me. He’s a cranky old man with a crooked nose and a shiny bald head. He looks like one of those desert vultures I saw in the animal documentary Mommy put on the TV for me to watch earlier today.
Amanda scowls at him. “You’re one to talk.” Her eyes soften as her gaze flicks to mine. “It’s lovely. Thank you! You’re very talented for being only five years old.”
I smile brightly. “I know; Mommy tells me I’m going to be an artist.”
When I finally feel in control of my body, I gingerly push myself up and trudge to the sink to splash water on my tear-streaked face. White-knuckling the sink, I let my head fall between my shoulders. Kaiden’s got a lot of explaining to do. Hopefully, he’ll be back soon.
I cast another glance at my disheveled reflection in the gilded mirror. My skin is so white it could very well be translucent at this point. I stride back to Kaiden’s office and put everything the way it was, except for the sketchbook, which I take to bed and thumb through in the hopes it will spark another flashback.
7
Iris
Groggily, I open my eyes and rub the sleep cobwebs from my mind as muffled voices filter through the room. I must have fallen asleep. Wrestling out of the tangled sheet trapping my body, I pat my hand on the mattress in search of the sketchbook and finally find it under the pillow.
Magenta and lilac stretch on the indigo sky, casting the room in a faint, dusky glow. Holding the sketchbook in one hand, I push myself off the bed and shuffle toward Kaiden’s voice. A sliver of light spills into the dark corridor through the crack in the library door. He’s talking to someone on speakerphone—Malik. I halt, hug the sketchbook to my chest, and mentally prepare myself to confront Kaiden. When I’m about to open the door, I hear my name and pause.
“How’s Iris?” Malik asks.
“She’s sleeping. She’s healing faster now because of the weakened barrier. Her bruises have almost faded entirely. That and her witch friend is really skilled; the healing potion she brewed helped a lot, but I still want you to come by and mend her ribs,” Kaiden replies.
“We’re on our way back. I’ll be there by midnight. Did she remember anything else?”
“I don’t think so. If she did…she hasn’t mentioned it.”
There’s a long pause before Malik speaks again, his voice grim. “There’s only a matter of time until she does, given the cracks in the barrier—if what happened at Sin didn’t obliterate it completely. What are you going to do when she remembers you were the one who locked her powers away, alongside her memories?”
What the fuck.
I can’t hear Kaiden’s response because the singe of betrayal takes hold of my body one cell at a time as my heart breaks into a million jagged pieces that scatter all over the floor. I drop the sketchbook. The broken sob ripping from my lungs swallows the loud thump. Whirling around, I sprint toward the dressing room.
In the next second, I crash into a hard wall of muscle as Kaiden materializes out of thin air. The force of the impact makes my teeth grind as a stabbing ripple travels through the entirety of my torso. Still, the physical pain has nothing on the way I feel my chest crumbling within itself.
“Iris, what happened?” Kaiden asks, alarmed, his fingers wrapping around my shoulders.
I jerk out of his hold and take a stumbling step back. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I scream.
Kaiden’s eyebrows knit. He takes a tentative step toward me. “What’s wrong?”
I shuffle backward again and almost step on the sketchbook I dropped earlier. “You lied to me! You fucking lied to me! I can’t believe I trusted you.” Glass shards impale the back of my throat. It takes everything I’ve got to stop the dam of emotions from bursting and sweeping me away in the devastating, murky torrent. I can’t—won’t—let him see me cry.
