"Itoldyou to at least hold off until we're somewhere safe," he slurs at me, the stench of liquor permeating the inside of my nostrils.
"You killed that innocent girl. Tortured her in front of her demon. In front of our friend," my teeth grit, every muscle in my body praying to tear this motherfuckers head off.
He laughs, drunkenly shoving me off him but remaining against the wall, "That's the least of what I've done. But Ialsokept the Sanctum from getting to Isla since you got here. Something you apparently couldn't be bothered to do since you brought her here even after my warning."
What warning?My eyes dart to where Isla stands, arms folded and watching the violence about to unfold. I already know if I let myself get too distracted by what this prick says, she'llmanage to sneak off, and I'll spend the next hour terrified and searching for her again.
Her eyes narrow at me, the mascara smeared beneath them proof ofjusthow unhappy this little reunion has been.I have a million questions to ask her, starting withwhat the fuck were you thinking? Followed very shortly bywhat warning?But Alastor doesn't need to be witness to either of those answers. Those are for me and Isla to hash out without a fucking audience.
"Oh man," Al laughs, catching on without either of us saying anything. "You two were fucking made for each other. A match made in hell, full of secrets and deceptions."
"Shut the fuck up," Isla bites at him, making him laugh harder.
He pushes off the wall,heading up the stairs painfully slowly, each step clearly a struggle with whatever's swimming through his system.Isla looks at me, my anger mirrored back in her haughty expression.
"Isla," I reach for her, and she slaps my hand away.
"You got a little something there," she sneers, pointing at my nose before turning and heading up the stairs just behind her cousin.
The flights of stairs to reach the floor where Alastor is staying are torturous.More than once, I try toreachinto Isla's mind, try tospeak to her.But if she'snowaware of it, it would beonlytoo easy for her to lock me out of her head altogether.Alastor stumbles more than once, recovering quickly enough that most people probably wouldn't notice just how intoxicated he is.
What is with these fucking Parkers? How do they manage to drink so much?
Good god, I can't stand this silence.
"So..." I prod Isla, "You guys are related on your dads side?"
Her glare reaches me for a split second over her shoulder before she continues ignoring me.
I don't get the chance to ask another question and get it ignored; Alastor opens the door and peeks his head into the hallway before swinging it wide enough that Isla and I can sneak out into the dim hall.
He doesn't bother telling us to follow or where we're going from here; hejust continues walking down the hall, whistling some tune that I already know will be stuck in my head later. Through the winding turns, he meanders, casually strolling and looking around each corner before taking it. Alastor moves so smoothly, so cavalier, all the while, it's clear to me that he's observing every dark corner, every possible place someone could be lurking and waiting for him. If he wasn't such a little fuckhead, he'd probably make a decent addition to my team.
After rounding a final corner and walking down a very long hall until we come to the last room, he holds a keycard up against the lock, waiting for it to turn green. As it does, he uses his whole body weight to shove the door open, pouring himself inside and flicking a light on.
Holding the door, I ease Isla inside with a hand on her back. Her anger and fear make her want to run, and I don't blame her. I'd be pissed, too. But she has to know I have a good reason.
I do have a good reason, don't I?
When I think back to the timesthat Ialmost told her, the justification I gave myself for not doing so just sounds ridiculous. In trying to make sure she felt like her head was the one place she was safe from me, I took that freedom from her. I could have taught her how to shut me out. Could have trained her mind to be as formidable a weapon as her body. I just wasn't willing to.Needed to haveaccess to the pieces of her that she was still determined to hide fromnot only me butherself.Butnone ofthose explanationswill be good enough, and I know it.
Alastor follows the narrow entryway, flicking on more lights as he goes until the whole suite lights up. A king-sized bed sitson one end of the room, a large couch and entertainment center on the other, only separated by a little half wall and three small steps. Each exterior wall isfullof windows, and my curiosity gets the best of me, drawing me over to see if he chose this room for the same reason I would have. Sure enough, the view is wide open to the little street below, ending with a perfect eyeline to the building where we spent most of the afternoon celebrating with Isla's friends.
Alastor wanders down the stairs toward the TV room, his lanky limbs swinging freely as he finds his minibar, twisting the top off a miniature bottle of dark liquor and pouring it into a disposable coffee cup.
He holds the monstrosity of a drink out in offering to me. Ignoring my suspicions, I take it. While my instincts tell me not to trust this man, it's hard totellif that's just because he's a hunter or if he's actually a threat to Isla and me right now.
Pouring Isla one of the same, he makes a third for himself, sinking onto the gray couch facing the night sky, leaving him open for eitheroneof us to attack him from the back.If he's so nonchalant, so sure we're not enemies right now,maybeIshouldbe too.
But I can't help but want to wring his scrawny neck for whatever he's said that's made Isla so upset she can barely look at me. It's like we've started from the beginning all over again, her hatred erasing all the nights— and days and mornings— we've spent together since then.
With a pained groan, he speaks, "So. Let's just get it all out there, shall we?"
Isla follows, sinking into a small armchair, tucking her knees underneath her to make herself as small as possible.
"No offense, but whatever grievances Isla and I need to air, they have fuck all to do with you," I tell him.
He waves a dismissive hand at me, "Yeah, yeah, no, that's your own bullshit to deal with later. I'm talking about your grievances with me."
