Fated (The Soul Seekers 1)

“’Fraid I’ll have to miss it,” I say, striving for nonchalant, but my voice betrays me with the way it trembles and pitches. “Gotta bus to catch, so … if you don’t mind.” I wriggle my fingers, motioning for him to step out of my way. But he remains right where he is, blocking my exit with a grin on his face.

He cocks his head, allowing a clump of hair to fall across his eyes as his gaze sweeps over me and his tongue flicks across his front teeth. “Now you’re just being mean,” he says, smile broadening as he rakes a hand through his bangs. “Least you could do is stay a while. Give us a chance to get to know each other better. I had no idea Paloma was hiding such a pretty granddaughter—did you?” He turns to his father, their eyes meeting in a private joke that escapes me.

I start to speak. Start to ask how he knows about Paloma and me. But before I can get there, he says, “Trust me, Enchantment is even smaller than it looks. Hard to keep a secret in a town where everyone knows everyone.”

His eyes meet mine, but instead of that odd, nonreflective blue they once were—they’re now crimson. And when his lip quirks to the side, they part just enough to allow the snake to slip out and dart straight for my chest.

I gasp. Shove him aside and make for the door. Fingers straining for the handle, just inches away, when the walls begin to melt, the roof begins to sink, and the space shrinks so small it swallows the door and bars my escape.

The room crushing, pressing, fo

rcing me to the floor, forcing me to my knees—depleting it of oxygen, making it impossible to breathe—to see—to do much of anything other than scream.

I scream until my head swells with the sound of it.

Scream until my eyes fill with bright swirling circles.

Scream until I realize I haven’t screamed at all—the sound stayed inside me, never found its way out.

A cool, firm hand clamps hard on my shoulder, as the boy peers at me and says, “Hey—hey there, you okay?”

I stare at him sideways, seeing him for what he truly is—no longer a demon but rather a beautiful, overconfident boy wearing a false mask of concern.

“Can I get you some water? Do you need to sit down?” His eyes crease with amusement as the room settles around me, returning to normal again.

He reaches toward me, offers a hand, but I’m quick to jump up, slip out of his grip. Noting the way his dad watches, his face placid, unreadable, while the boy hovers beside me, pretending to care.

“Get away from me,” I mumble, my voice weak, whimpering—my body a trembling mess of nerves. Assuring myself that what I saw was real, even though it’s ridiculous, even though they do their best to pretend not to have noticed.

“Hey now.” He reaches toward me again. “That’s no way to—”

“I said, don’t touch me!” I grab hold of my bag—bolt for the door.

The boy calling after me as I shove through crowds of people my age, people I might’ve befriended had Paloma succeeded in keeping me here.

Knocking into girls and bouncing off boys, until one in particular catches me, steadies me. His fingers circling my arm as he peers down and says, “You okay?”

I struggle against him, fight to break free. Though it’s not long before I’m overcome by a cool wash of calm chased by a comforting warmth that folds like a blanket around me. My movements slowed, my thoughts becoming so hazy and loose, I abandon my flight. Robbed of all recollection of why I wanted to leave when I’d do anything to always feel so secure—so safe—so loved and at peace.

So at home in his arms.

I melt against his chest—lift my gaze to meet his. Gasping when I stare into a pair of icy-blue eyes banded by brilliant flecks of gold that shine like kaleidoscopes, reflecting my image thousands of times.

The boy from my dream.

The one who died in my arms.

Brothers.

As the boy claimed they were:

“Not to worry, brother—it’s the soul that I want, the heart is all yours.”

But I know it can’t be. My mind is deceitful. I can longer trust the things that it shows me.

I break free, jolted by the sudden loss of warmth—the crushing chill that surrounds me the instant I sever his touch.

“I’m sorry—I just … I thought you needed—” He peers at me, gaze fraught with worry, head cocked in a way that causes his long, glossy black hair to spill down his side.