Free Cinder by Jessica Sorensen

me,” he says, like I don’t have a reason not to.
     
    I struggle not to laugh, knowing it won’t make the situation any better. “You have to earn trust, Cameron.”
     
    “Asher didn’t earn your trust,” he states, leaning closer to me, his shadow covering my body. “He lied to you just as much as I did.”
     
    “Yeah, but Asher’s good.”
     
    “How do you know?” A hand comes down on each side of my head, so he’s pretty much lying on top of me, yet he remains standing. “Maybe you shouldn’t go around believing things until they’re proven.”
     
    He’s right. Not about Asher, but about getting facts before deciding on what to believe “Tell me what the leader looks like,” I demand, pressing my back against the mattress, desperate to get space between us. “And why he’s here. That’s how you can establish my trust, if you want it.”
     
    “I don’t know those answers.” He looks as lost as me. “However, what I do know is that it’s really bad that he’s here.” He licks his lips, eyeing mine. I can read all over his face that he wants kiss me.
     
    “I know it’s bad.” I place my hands on his chest to hold him back. “But how bad exactly? I mean, people are already possessed and there’s a murder or disappearance at least once a week. How much worse could things get?”
     
    “Much, much worse.” He reaches for my face and I flinch as he strokes my cheek with his finger. “More and more deaths will happen. Reapers love their death. It’s like a drug for us.”  He looks like he’s going to kiss me and I’m not sure if I can—want to stop him if he tries. “We crave it. Breathe it. And our leader is connected to all our power; our feelings. So imagine how much death he craves—needs.” He leans in closer, our lips inches apart.
     
    Despite that I’m confused about how I feel for him, I still manage to get some room, pushing him away as far as he’ll allow me.
     
    “You can’t touch me, Cameron. I-I don’t want you to.”
     
    “Why not? You let Asher touch you and kiss you.” His breath is hot on my cheek and I shiver.
     
    “Asher’s an Angel,” I say, loathing that my voice cracks. “And he didn’t just tell me that he’s addicted to stealing souls.”
     
    “So what if he’s an Angel?” His eyes flare, the tips of his fingers pressing into my skin. “And I’m a Reaper. Both of us symbolize death. Both of us collect souls. There’s a very thin line between what we are.”
     
    “Not really.” I wince from his violent touch. “And besides, I know Asher enough to know that he cares about me and wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me.”
     
    When he speaks his voice is low and conveys rage, his breath hot on my cheeks. “Maybe you should get your facts straight before you go yammering your mouth off,” he says. I open my mouth to speak, but he covers my lips with his hands. “Tell me this, princess. Did Asher, by chance, ever mention who his father is?”
     
    I reluctantly shake my head. “No, but what does that matter?” I ask, my lips moving against the palm of his hand.
     
    He lowers his hand from my mouth. “It matters when his father’s part of the Anamotti.”
     
    “That’s impossible… It’d mean he’d have to have Reaper blood. And he can’t have Reaper blood because then it’d mean Asher would have Reaper blood in him, and I know that’s not true,” I say, my voice sounding a little off pitch. I can’t help having some doubt. I know hardly anything about Asher’s father, and from the few conversations we had about him, I got the impression that Asher’s father wasn’t that great. Still, it doesn’t mean he’s a Reaper.
     
    I push Cameron off me and kneel up on the bed. “Quit messing with my head. If Asher’s father was a Reaper then he would have told me. And you would have told me a long time ago.”
     
    “Why would I have told you sooner?” Cameron asks, pressing his hand to his chest where I shoved