Free In the Dark by Melody Taylor Page B

held
no emotion for him any longer. He knew them to be true, but he
couldn’t remember them anymore. Even the moment in the
alley with Kent, watching him die, listening to him ask after Ian –
whatever emotion that had stirred, it was only an echo.
    Every day
Sebastian spent away from the pack gave him the opportunity to recall
more. Since leaving, he had found a few more tattered memories,
dragged up from wherever they had all gone over the years. That was
the use.
    He opened his
eyes, and tensed to find his room a wash of red. It startled him –
and then he realized. Tears.
    It had been so
long.
    None fell. The
liquid welled in his eyes, then dissipated.
    He wiped his
eyes, tightened his jaw, and went on with his exercises until dawn.

I AN
    T he
pillowcase was stiff with dry blood when I woke up, my face covered
in it. I’d cried myself to sleep again as the sun came up. Not
because Sebastian had glared at me, although that hadn’t helped
matters. Just because I missed Kent and felt lonely and wanted to go
home. I wiped at my face, but the dried blood only crumbled and
dusted the bed more. I sighed and decided to check out the bathroom
attached to this room.
    My body twinged
from all the exercise the night before – climbing in and out of
the house, walking all the way home, running like mad across the
neighborhood. I didn’t smell like sweat, though, or like anyone
does when they first wake up. Kent had explained that I was basically
a corpse. Regular showers and deodorant were things of my past life.
My hair needed brushing, though, and I seriously needed to wash my
face.
    Of course the
bathroom was large and ritzy. Antique tiling in the shower; old,
shiny gold knobs on the faucets; a pillar sink with an enormous
mirror above it. A shelf by the sink held a brush, a bar of soap and
a towel, otherwise, the room was bare. I used the brush on my rat’s
nest and the soap on my face, wishing I had something to change into
besides Sebastian’s clothes.
    After splashing
the soap off my face, I looked up to stare at myself in the mirror.
Pale and wet with flashing green eyes. My near-black hair made my
skin seem porcelain, and my white skin made my lips look almost
blood-red. I didn’t look my best, but I didn’t look as
bad as I should have. No swollen eyes, swollen nose, dark circles,
marks of a sleepless night.
    A vampire.
    The signs of it
were obvious to me. To anyone else, I supposed I seemed exotic.
    I gave myself an
angry glower like Sebastian had given me the night before. Even with
my fangs bared I didn’t look nearly as scary as he had. I
turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom.
    In the main
bedroom I pulled on the jeans and button-up I’d worn the night
before. Sebastian’s clothes. The way he’d glared at me
last night was like he wished I would just go get myself killed. Or
like he wished he’d never stopped to ask me if I needed help.
So why had he brought me home?
    I bit my
knuckle, carefully avoiding my fangs. Any cuts I made would heal up
over the day, but I would have them all night and fang slashes stung
like paper cuts.
    Maybe I needed
to go talk to him. Maybe after some time to calm down, he wouldn’t
bite my head off or give me filthy glares for speaking. And I thought
maybe I needed some answers to a few things. I left the room and went
to find Sebastian.
    He had the dusty
little TV on in the living room, standing in the middle of the room
with his arms crossed. He reached out to flip it off when I came in.
I paused. He could hear again. Or he’d seen my reflection
somewhere.
    “Good
evening,” he said. As if nothing unpleasant had happened the
night before.
    “Hey.”
My voice was thick. I cleared my throat. “Look, can we talk?”
    One of his
eyebrows flicked up. “Certainly,” he said, and stood
there. Waiting.
    I looked at the
floor to gather my thoughts.
    “Did you
kill Kent?” I asked, since it was my deepest fear.
    “No.”
As if I had asked him about the