A Want So Wicked (9 page)

I'm unable to look away from him this time. Abe reaches over to brush a lock of my hair behind my ear, keeping his hand there.

“I should take you home,” he whispers. “Don't you think so?”

Abe's voice is like syrup—sticky and sweet—as it winds through me, clouding my judgment. All I can think is that he's right. We should go home.

In the kitchen someone drops a bottle and when it smashes on the floor, the room erupts in cheers.

Words nag at my brain until I finally turn to Abe, putting my hand on his arm. “Do you want to come over?” I ask, feeling better the minute I say it. “My father's working late and Lucy's never there.”

“Why, Elise,” Abe says, grinning down at me. “I do think you have succumbed to my wooing.”

“Maybe,” I answer. “Or maybe I'd rather not be at the party of one of your exes.”

“That's a good reason too.”

Abe leads me outside, and we walk down the driveway, his arm over my shoulders. I'm not sure why, but I just invited a boy back to my house. The idea of it fills me with all sorts of unease. But then I remind myself that it's Abe—and that he is always a gentleman when it comes to me.

 

The house is dark when we walk in, and I practically dive for the lights. The idea of being alone with Abe is starting to intimidate me. I can't believe I invited him back to my house. It's so brazen.

“Soda?” I ask as he closes and locks the door.

Abe nods, and I walk into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door. As I take out two cans, I also check my phone for missed calls from my dad or Lucy. Nothing.

On the couch, Abe is already clicking through the channels with the remote. I put a Coke in front of him, not sure if I should sit next to him. He seems to notice.

“Come here,” he says, patting the spot next to him. “I'll be careful with you.”

I wait for him to laugh off the comment, but he doesn't. I'm slightly perplexed as I ease down next to him. We're quiet at first, the television silently showing a
Project Runway
rerun. Abe's shoulder rests against mine, solid and warm. He shifts, turning toward me. “Elise,” he says softly. “Do you want to be with me?”

The question is blunt and I'm completely unprepared for it. My lips part, but no words come out. And although it feels almost cruel, I can't respond. I don't know the answer.

Abe swallows hard, the noise audible in the room. “I promise I won't hurt you. Not if you stay with me.”

I'm surprised by his words, what they could possibly mean. But when I look at him, I get caught up in his dark gaze and feel myself drift away slightly.

“We belong together,” Abe says, drowning out my thoughts with his words, making them hard to sort out. “Why can't you see that?” I don't respond, struck silent. I can feel him—his desire. It's like I can see inside his head and know that he's been so lonely without me. He thinks I'm beautiful.

“I'm going to kiss you now,” he murmurs, and draws me to him, his mouth covering mine. His fingers knot in my hair, tipping my head back as he kisses my neck, breathing heavily in my ear. “Just say yes and we'll be together. Just say yes.”

I barely register what's happening as Abe's mouth is on mine again, softly whispering how much he wants me. It's then that it begins—the numbing sensation.

What starts as a soft tingling in my lips begins to spread through my face. My neck. I put my hands on Abe's chest, trying to move him back as he continues to kiss me. A shock of cold, like ice water pumped into my veins, tears at my flesh.

Finding my strength, I push Abe off and jump up from the sofa, wrapping my arms around myself.

Abe looks startled and reaches for me. “Elise?”

I don't know what's happening, but I have to get away from him. I turn and run toward my room, my body cold. Everything aching. It's not Abe's fault; it was just a kiss. A kiss can't do this. It's another sign that something is seriously wrong with me.

When I reach my room, I slam my door and lock it. Still shivering, I slide down until I'm on the floor, legs stretched out in front of me. I'm filled with absolute sadness, as if my heart is broken—no, shattered. I'm drowning in misery. And then an old memory slips in place.

He loves me. He loves me like no one else can, no one else will. He is mine forever. And with that knowledge, I know that I can let go. Because he'll never forget.

“Elise?” Abe says softly on the other side of the door.

“I can't,” I try to say, covering my face with my hands. I want the memories to stop, but at the same time I miss him—the guy in my thoughts. I think I might die, I miss him so badly.

“I'm sorry,” Abe says. “It wasn't supposed to happen like that. You're . . . different.” He exhales. “Please come out.”

I lift my head then, staring straight ahead toward my reflection in the bottom half of the closet mirror. “Who are you?” I ask myself silently, tears streaming down my cheeks. But nothing happens; the reflection doesn't change. Instead, I'm just sitting on my bedroom floor, a guy outside my door begging to talk to me. But I'm a freak. And I tell him to go home and leave me alone.

“We need to talk,
querida
,” Abe says, sounding miserable. “I can't just let you go. Not now.”

Headlights of a passing car illuminate the room, and when it does, I notice a glimmer under the bed. I reach for it, both comforted and saddened when I find it. It's my angel statue set in a clear stone.

On the other side of the door, Abe's feet shuffle. “Look, I'll leave. But . . .” He stops, as if uncertain of what to say next. So when he doesn't say anything at all, only closes the front door as he leaves, I start to cry harder.

I climb into bed, pulling the covers up over my head. I want to hide from the dark thoughts chasing me. I clasp the stone angel to my chest as I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing all of the creepiness away. Wishing I could live a normal life again. And when I'm done wishing—I pray.

CHAPTER 14

I
'm in the middle of a road, a tumbleweed rushing past me. It's daytime, but the overcast sky sets everything in a gray light. I'm the only thing glowing—a golden light under my skin.

I'm dreaming. Dread twists in my stomach, a feeling of something not right.

“What are you, Elise?”

Startled, I turn to see Abe, handsome as ever in a black suit as he walks toward me.

“What do you mean?” I ask, but my words come out too soft, too weak. I'm afraid as a sense of foreboding, a pressure, builds around us.

“You can tell me,” he adds, smiling gently. “I know you're not like the others.” He holds open his arms, coming to wrap me in a hug. I let him, trying to process what's going on as his fingers trail over the bare skin of my arm.

“I'm sorry to invade your dreams,” he says, his lips against my temple. He kisses the skin there, then the high point of my cheek. “But I had to see you,” he murmurs. “I want you, Elise.” His lips graze mine. “I want you to stay with me.”

But in this world, in this dream, I suddenly know that's not possible. “I can't be with you,” I say, putting my arms between us to break away. Abe keeps me close to him, bringing his face near mine.

“Silly girl,” he says, a devious twinkle in his eyes. He runs his hand down my neck, over my collarbone, before sighing longingly. “You already belong to me.”

 

“Elise?”

I wake with a start and see my dad standing in my doorway, holding it half-open. The green numbers on my alarm clock read that it's after midnight. “Hey,” I say, taking a second to get my bearings, the dream evaporating almost instantly. I sit up and touch my lips. They're cold.

“Just got home and wanted to make sure you were okay,” my father says, sounding exhausted. He sits on the end of my bed, the light from the hallway casting shadows over the room. “Okay, maybe I wasn't so much making sure you were okay as I was checking to see that you were home. I hope the date went well?”

“Date?” Fear rushes through me as I remember what happened with Abe, what happened when he kissed me. “It was fine,” I say, quickly brushing back my hair. But it's not fine. It's so freaking far from fine that I'm trembling, barely able to keep myself from screaming.

“Honey,” my father says, touching my arm. “You're so pale.”

I'm not sure how to answer, how to explain that a psychic told me I wasn't human and now I'm starting to believe her. How can I tell my father that memories are trying to take me over—memories that aren't even mine? Instead I reach out and hug him, letting him hold me until I stop shaking.

“Elise,” he says. “Has something else happened? If you're still having those episodes, we should take you back to the doctor. We'll find every specialist we can, drive up to Phoenix, even. Someone has to know what's going on with you.”

It never occurred to me what it would really mean to try to find a logical solution. But now I understand—I'll be trapped in a hospital bed, undergoing surgeries and tests, blood work and X-rays. I'll be like my mother in her final days. Only my affliction won't be so easy to diagnose. What will they do to me?

“I'm just really tired,” I say, straightening up. “Santo's has been way more physical than I thought, and I'm working too many hours. The low vitamin D only adds to that. . . .”

My father seems to consider this, nodding after a moment. “I think I should set you up with one of the other counselors at the church,” he offers. “If this is mental somehow—”

“It's exhaustion,” I say.

“If this happens again . . .”

“Hospital,” I reply quickly. “I promise.”

He exhales, but his worry lines don't diminish. I can tell he has another reason for talking to me tonight.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It's your sister.”

My heart skips a beat. “What's wrong with Lucy?”

“It's just that . . .” He glances toward the hallway, lowering his voice. “I took her to see the doctor this morning. And after, Lucy said she had a clean bill of health. But there is something different about her. You see it, don't you?”

“Like a new piercing?”

“I don't know,” my father says. “I can't quite figure out what it is.” He rubs his forehead, a movement similar to one of my own.

“It's okay, Dad.” I rest my cheek on his shoulder. “She's probably found a weirdo boyfriend who you'll hate and forbid her to spend time with. Then everything will be back to normal.”

“Sounds awful, but I hope you're right.”

I close my eyes, thinking about Lucy, about the horrible things happening to me. It's like our family is falling apart—breaking down a little each day. I'm not sure what to do anymore, but I have to fix this myself. Marceline said that no one else could help me. And I'm starting to see that she's right.

 

I promise my father that I'll talk to Santo about cutting down on my hours, and in return he agrees to try to do the same at the church. I feel immediately better because that means he'll be around more for me and Lucy. It gives me hope that there's a chance we can get through this. Even so, I secretly hope it doesn't resurrect his family game-night ideas.

I plan to go to Marceline's, and this time I'm not just going for her creepy mythology lessons. I want answers. I want to know how to stop what's happening to me.

I ask my dad to drop me off at the café on Mission Boulevard, telling him I'm meeting Abe for lunch. He doesn't need to know that I haven't heard from him. I'd checked my phone all morning, thinking he'd call, but there was nothing. What does Abe think happened? Did he feel the cold, or was it just me? Does he think I'm a prude who can't handle being touched? His perfect silence is killing me.

After my father drops me off, I wait for him to drive away and then start toward Marceline's. I didn't have her number to call—it wasn't even listed—but I have to talk to her. She can't turn me away.

When I get closer to her house, I notice someone just ahead. My heartbeat quickens. Harlin is sitting on his motorcycle at the curb—looking smoking hot as usual.

He glances up as I approach, a slow smile pulling at his lips. “I'd love to tell you this is a coincidence,” he says.

I hike my backpack up on my shoulder. “Are you saying you're here for me and not a tarot card reading?”

“I am definitely here for you,” he says in that same low voice. “I've already had my cards read this week.”

I laugh. “Hope it was good news.” I pause, looking him over. “How did you know I'd be here?”

He shrugs. “Just did.”

I stand on the sidewalk, wondering how Harlin could have guessed something like that. I consider asking him, but I'm afraid of the answer. Does he know about the stories Marceline told me? Does he know about me?

“I have to go,” I say, pointing toward the house. I start down the path to the front door when Harlin calls to me.

“She's not home,” he says. “I already knocked on the door.”

“Oh.” I stop then, both disappointed and relieved. I want answers, but at the same time, I'm terrified of what they are. “Do you think she'll be back later?” I ask, not clear on how Harlin fits into the life of an old psychic in the first place.

“Maybe. If you want, I can keep you company while you wait.”

I look around the street. “Here?”

“Or I can take you to lunch,” he offers. “That is, if you're free?”

“Well,” I say, starting toward him. I don't know what it is about him, but when I'm around Harlin I'm so much braver. “I guess it depends.”

His mouth spreads in a slow smile. “On?”

I motion toward his bike. “Are you going to take me on that Harley?”

Harlin's hazel eyes flash wickedly. “Yeah,” he says, reaching for my hand. “I am.”

When he touches me it's like a current of electricity, warming me all over. He holds my gaze as he licks his bottom lip, the movement sexy. Inviting. I lean forward, planning on kissing him right here on the street. But before I get close enough, he turns away.

“Someone's looking for you,” he murmurs, letting his hand slip from mine. I'm dazed, caught up in the moment, when I hear my name.

“Elise!”

My stomach drops when I see Abe jog toward us. He waves, casually glancing at Harlin, and then slows down his approach.

I take a step back, feeling like a terrible person. I was just out on a date with Abe last night, and here I am flirting with Harlin. I almost tried to kiss him. What was I thinking after what happened with Abe?

“I've been searching everywhere for you,
querida
,” Abe says with a wry smile. “Off getting harassed by transients again, I see.”

Harlin chuckles from next to me, folding his hands in his lap as he rests back on his bike, not looking intimidated in the least. I, on the other hand, think I might puke.

“Abe,” I say, my voice a little weak. “This is Harlin.” Abe sizes Harlin up with little more than a head nod before turning his dark gaze on me. Technically Abe isn't my boyfriend. And honestly, after last night, I don't really want him to be. It was a disaster.

“Elise.” Abe takes my wrist, tugging me gently forward. “We need to talk. I came to meet you, and Margie said you called in. I went to your house—no answer. Then I find you on the street with some . . .
guy
.”

I don't appreciate the insinuation, the accusation in his words. Any guilt I had for leading Abe on quickly evaporates. He's different somehow, his charming exterior fading into possessiveness. But I don't belong to him.

“Stop,” I say, trying to twist free of his grip.

Abe's face drains of color and his eyes narrow. Fog begins to slide inside my head, whispering. Blocking out my thoughts.

Leave
.

I hear Harlin shift next to me. Suddenly my confusion clears and I yank my arm from Abe, backing up. “Don't grab me like that,” I say. The skin of my wrist aches, even though he didn't grip me that hard.

Abe's color returns immediately and he shakes his head, like he doesn't know what he was thinking.

“I'm sorry,” he says, a half grin pulling at his lips, boyish and sweet. “I apologize. You can't blame me for getting a little jealous, can you?” He motions to Harlin.

“I'll call you when I get home,” I offer, knowing that I can't avoid the discussion with him. I don't want to hurt Abe. I know he likes me, and I thought I liked him. But something's changed.

Underneath his white T-shirt, Abe's muscles tense and a pained expression crosses his features, as if he heard my thoughts. But then it fades, replaced with something cold.

“Yes, you do that,” he says, backing away. “Don't forget.” His eyes flick to Harlin's with some amusement, like it's an inside joke they share. And then Abe stalks down the street, turning at the next corner.

“Boyfriend?” Harlin asks, adjusting the mirror on his bike.

“Not really,” I say. “I'm not sure what he is, I guess.”

Harlin seems to consider this and then shrugs as if he doesn't care if I have some weird love affair going on with my coworker. “I've got a pretty good idea,” he says.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask him. To my dismay, Harlin is quiet long enough to make my insides knot. Then he lowers his eyes.

“No,” he says softly. “No, I don't.”

I'm reminded of when Marceline called him a tortured soul. It's been a long time since I've seen someone as torn up as Harlin looks right now. I reach to touch his arm, drawing his gaze.

“I don't know what's wrong,” I say. “But I'm sorry for whatever's hurting you. Though if I'm honest, you're sort of bumming me out.”

“Well, that is definitely not the emotion I'm working toward,” he says, moving up on his bike to throw back the kickstand.

“No? Which one are you going for?”

Harlin takes his sunglasses off his collar, sliding them on before turning my way. “I think mutual attraction is a good place to start.”

I laugh, setting my backpack over both shoulders as I climb onto his bike. “Oh,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist as the Harley roars to life. “I'm pretty sure we've already got that covered.”