Iniquitous (The Marked #3)(2)
No matter how hard I had tried to block him out, to push him out of my mind for my own sake, my heart wouldn’t allow me to let go of him. It held onto his memory like a saving grace, a lifeline. But I couldn’t reach out to it, I couldn’t grab a hold of it, and somehow, its lingering remnants only served to push me deeper and deeper underwater. Making it harder and harder for me to take in air.
Tears burned under my lids as I wondered if I’d ever see him again. I wondered what he was doing…thinking…saying. Was he still looking for me? Did he think I left him by choice? Did he think I was dead? My tears immediately ceased and were quickly replaced with broiling anger as I wondered if Nikki was by his side, playing the role of the innocent as she offered herself up to him—a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold…
God knows what else.
Rage prickled under my skin, festering through me like a flesh-eating virus. My hands curled at my sides as I recalled the icy glare in Nikki's eyes when she handed my ass to my enemy on a silver platter. That rotten bitch had set me up. She'd made sure I saw her fluttering around the edge of the woods, knowing I would think she was trying to mess with the protective barrier. She knew I’d protect my friend. She knew I'd walk right into her trap. And I did. I followed her because, two weeks ago, the worst I'd ever expected from her was some catty high-school confrontation with her and the rest of the bitch-squad. Instead, she pulled out a ballpoint pen and signed my death certificate right in front of my nose.
And if I ever got out of here alive, I vowed to return the favor.
My momentary burst of vengeance-fueled energy soon tapered off into nothingness as the weight of the world sat heavy on my lids, begging me for sleep again—for reprieve, and I succumbed to the exhaustion without the faintest sign of a fight.
In my dreams, I was always free. I was happy, and I was with him. Rays of warm sunlight poured over my body like a sweet comforting lie as his mouth found mine under the powder-blue sky of a better world. Blades of grass tickled my skin as I reached up and eagerly pulled him in closer to me. Closer, but never close enough.
His dimples blinked at me as he moved his lips from my mouth to my ear and then down the hill of my neck. It was always heaven like this with Trace. My own piece of paradise within the burning inferno.
He pulled away from me suddenly, propping himself up on his elbow beside me. “It’s time to wake up, Jemma.”
“No!” I clutched his waist like a madwoman hanging on to her sanity. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t leave me again.”
“You have to go back.”
“I don’t want to.” I shook my head as tears began to build behind my lids, blurring away the blue sky around us. “It’s always dark there, Trace. I can’t take the darkness anymore.”
“You have to find your way inside the light.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I answered as tears slid down my cheeks in despair.
His beautifully shaped lips continued to move with speech, but there wasn’t any sound now. He was slipping away from me again, going back into the light where he belonged. I wanted to be there in the light with him, but I didn’t know how to get there.
Wake up, he mouthed and then snapped his fingers. The sound of it echoed through my head like a gunshot.
My lids snapped open and the darkness of the dungeon quickly enveloped me once again.
Pulling my knees up to my chest, I parted my lips and swiveled my tongue around my mouth, searching for a drop of moisture to quell the overbearing thirst. But there was none to be found. My stomach roared back at me beneath my filthy dress, urging me for nourishment—threatening me with a total system shutdown if I didn’t comply with its demands. It was turning on me too, I imagined, just like everyone else in my life.
Click. Click. Click.
My head shot up at the distant sound. I crawled away from my cell door and stared at it, listening more intently.
Click. Click. Click.
Footsteps.
Someone was coming.
2. BAD COMPANY
“W-who’s there?” I called out, my voice shaky and hoarse from not being used in far too many days.
No answer.
More waiting.
“I said who’s there? Answer me!”
My demands were ignored as the steps continued to get closer at an alarming pace. I scrambled up to my feet and pushed my face up against the small peeper window, pressing my left cheek against it as I tried to steal a glimpse. A figure dressed in black emerged in the shadowy corridor, though I couldn’t make out any of his features. I quickly backed away from the door, staggering unsteadily and almost tripping over the disgusting mattress in the process.
“Well, hello there, Princess of Darkness,” he said in a mocking tone as he approached my cell door.
I tried to place the voice, to match it to someone’s face, but came up empty.
“Engel’s requesting your company,” he went on as a set of keys jangled outside the wooden door.
My heart pounded like bone drums. This is what I’d been waiting for; my one chance.
I held my breath and listened as he turned the lock and pulled back the door in a loud, shrieking sweep. It sounded like brick and mortar being pulled in two directions. It sounded like freedom. The flickering light from the passageway illuminated my cell as the unknown man stood at the entrance. Arms by his side, feet at shoulder width. His menacing shadow casting a black cloud of panic over me.