Page 22 of Reject

Page List


Font:  

Roman was the opposite. He was a protector, a guardian. Someone I could fight alongside and respect but not give a second thought to. It was sometimes alarming to see the physical and personality changes between them, but we’d been around each other long enough it was seamless now and a lot easier to differentiate. We weren’t friends, I triggered Hiro from time to time without meaning to, and that was something Roman didn’t like. We respected each other outside of that, nothing more, nothing less.

I nodded at the altar, and he returned the gesture. I’d noticed him watching over Harlow just as much as I did. It was nice to know someone was looking out for her, especially with a demon like Ivar by her side.

I just wish I knew why I even fucking cared if she was safe here. Which was exactly why I shouldn’t get too close. To her. To Hiro. To anyone.

“Because she’s yours.” The voice in my head wasn’t my own, but I managed to hide my shock. It had been years since the Queen of Helheim dropped into my head and it was no less startling than the last.

“Mine for what?” Her amusement filled my head, and I winced at the strange feeling. I was standing still on the sidewalk, so I likely looked crazy, not a good thing for someone standing outside of an institution like Dark Haven. But sharing a mind felt invasive, and I fucking hated the feeling.

“She may have been gifted to Ivar and Kol, but you are her balancing guardian, the one who will hold the group accountable. I need you to succeed, Drake. My protection only goes so far.”

“Who is Kol?”I asked back internally. She sent a mental image of a towering gargoyle. I hadn’t seen them outside of their stone forms but I’d heard whispers of their existence. Hel’s personal warriors that did her bidding. Cold, neutral, and swift in their punishment. “Where is he?”

“Not awake quite yet, but soon,” she promised. “Things are changing, Drake. Keep your eyes open and instincts sharp. Listen to them and stop hiding from your demon side. It’s not a curse.” The sharp command there struck more fear into me than the entire conversation with Ivar had. Hel could harm me, but for now, I was useful. It was time to actually give into my demon side. But how the fuck could I do that when it was the part I hated most about myself. “She is yours as much as theirs. And another’s. I have seen the future, Drake, and you’re a key part of it. Don’t let me down... or Harlow. She’s special.”

Hel was already in my head, she didn’t need me to respond. I could lie and say I didn’t want Harlow or any part of this. But it was a lie I couldn’t hide from her or myself. This was the kind of purpose I needed in my life and I didn’t even know the details yet.

There was always mystery surrounding me. The demons, their purpose, Hel, Helheim... all of it. I’d researched what I could find in mythology, but most of my knowledge was a mix of human books and observations in Dark Haven. I had a feeling neither were a true depiction of the realm itself.

Just as quickly as she had arrived in my mind, she was gone again, and my entire body sagged in relief. I may hate her world, her demons, what I was because of it, but I couldn’t disrespect Hel herself. She may not be a full goddess, but she sure as hell could kill me as if she were one.

After the encounter, I was stuck frozen in front of the line of storefronts. I needed to move but I couldn’t quite make myself. Hel’s words were ringing in my mind.

Harlow is mine.

“Hey there.” The seductive purr in my ear sent disgust rolling through me, and I stepped away. Glancing back, I saw Sarah, a human hookup that I was no longer going to entertain. She was a distraction from my life, and bubbly enough that I couldn’t feed from her. But the thought of touching anyone but Harlow or Hiro had me retreating. She frowned at the open rejection and started to protest but I shook my head. The girl meant nothing to me, and I didn’t care that she was yelling insults at me as I walked away.

She was the reason I’d come out here in the first place. The curvy barista was my usual go-to when Dark Haven was too much. She didn’t ask questions, and I always made her feel good. The whole thing was devoid of emotions, but the release always helped.

“Fucking, Harlow,” I muttered, realizing she was the reason I couldn’t fuck away my tension. The bitch had gotten into my head, and Hel wasn’t helping. Then again, if it she was meant to be mine, and I’d piss off a demon commander in the process, then why the hell wouldn’t I just fuck her?

That thought was enough for me to turn into the small novelty store I was now standing in front of, not leaving again until I had an armload of snacks. Instead of running away from Dark Haven like usual, I was heading right back.

Life was fucked up sometimes.

ChapterEight

Harlow

Tuesday Afternoon

The First Floor

“Are you angry at your father?” Dr. Bradley’s question had me ready to scream. Was he fucking serious? How had this man made it through any sort of fucking schooling? He’d gone from questions about the exorcism, my grandmother and how I wound up with her, and wanted every detail of the encounter. What kind of therapist asked what the buyer did to me, if he touched me.

Sick fuck.

“Watch your language.” Gran’s voice echoed in the room, and I jumped. He was watching me curiously but didn’t call me on the way I curled in on myself at the sound. But a glance around the tiny office revealed we were alone... outside of the shadows hanging in my peripheral, reminding me that this session was doing more harm than good.

Just his line of questioning alone had shadows popping in.

“Of fucking course I am. He tried to let his friend fuck me in exchange for money to solve his gambling debt. And guess what, he’d have done it again if it had been successful. He didn’t give a fuck about me, and I have every damn right to hate him for that. I hope he’s spending eternity being tortured in hell for his sins.” I was close to screaming at this point, my voice shaking and angry.

“I’m detecting a lot of suppressed anger here,” he replied with wide eyes. His tone was disproving, like I was in the wrong. He’s a fucking nutcase and that was saying something coming from me. I couldn’t exactly see myself, but even I wasn’t good enough at hiding expressions to not show my utter disgust and disbelief at this man’s words.

“Oh, it’s not suppressed at all,” I promised him. “I’m not shy about it.”

“Perhaps we should move our focus to your life after him,” he hedged, nervously glancing at the clock.


Tags: Jarica James Paranormal