Ember (27 page)

Her fingers passed over the spot on his back where the bone thickened, her other hand had already wound into his hair when she finally came to her senses. It was wrong; it was all wrong. He wasn’t the one she wanted.

“Wait,” Candra pleaded, pushing Draven away.

He moved easily, compliantly, licking his lips and gazing at her like a starving man seeing food for the first time in days. He was still near enough to only need to shift his weight and he would be kissing her again.

“I can’t,” Candra whispered in a ragged voice. Her heart, her body, her mind…they were all screwed up, conflicted about what she was feeling and what she should.

Draven scrunched his eye shut tight like he was fighting against himself and then moved away from her, sitting back heavily. “It’s okay.” He frowned tensely.

“I’m sorry,” Candra apologized. “I just…I can’t. It doesn’t feel…” She tripped over her words, trying to get them out.

“I said it’s okay,” Draven repeated sternly, running his fingers through his hair. He stood up quickly, spinning away from her so that she couldn’t see his face. “Don’t embarrass either of us by making excuses, please.”

Either of us? He’s embarrassed.
The idea confused Candra a little. Draven, who was normally so confident and in control, sounded flustered. She was about to call him out on it when a commotion in the hallway made them both look toward the door.

Lofi burst through moments later. She was pale with red-rimmed eyes as though she’d been crying. Her normally immaculate hair was mussed up, and she was wild-eyed and angry.

“What in the Arch’s name is going on here?” Draven raged.

“Call your dog off, Draven,” Lofi warned venomously through gritted teeth, swatting Ananchel’s hand away from her arm, “before I put her down for good.”

“What do you want here?” Draven demanded, ignoring Lofi’s warning.

Candra panicked and stood up to go to Lofi, who was edging toward her, continuously evading Ananchel’s grip.

“Call someone,” Ananchel shouted to Draven.

Candra made to move toward them, but Draven caught her arm, holding her back.

“Stop it,” Candra roared toward Ananchel, and she noticed Lofi was holding her phone in her hand. Bile rose, burning in her throat. This was bad…she knew it was bad. Lofi wouldn’t have come here otherwise. Something was very, very wrong.

“Please, Draven,” Candra begged as both Ananchel’s and Lofi’s wings sprouted from behind them. “Please.”

“Ananchel!” he bellowed and as if he had physically restrained them, they both stopped just as two burly men—Watchers—appeared at the door, ready to tackle Lofi.

Lofi’s wings instantly disappeared, and Draven released Candra’s arm. She flew toward Lofi, Candra’s eyes already filled with tears of shock and fear. She didn’t even know why yet. Her mind refused to wrap around her biggest fear.

“You have to come now.” Lofi sniffled. “Something awful has happened, just awful. There was nothing anyone could do. They couldn’t stop the bleeding. It was already too late.”

Candra’s hands were on Lofi’s arms and hers on Candra’s, already grasping at each other for support. “Where’s Brie?” Candra asked shakily as a thick, salty tear rolled down her cheek and over her lips.

“She’s at the house; I was nearest to here. I tried to call you, but—” she held her other hand up, showing the phone “—I forgot you left it at our house last night, and I had it in my purse to bring it back to you. When I called here, they wouldn’t put me through.”

Candra glowered over at Ananchel, who made no gesture of remorse. She simply glowered back defiantly. Suddenly Lofi pulled Candra into an embrace, and she felt sick and shaky. Candra’s mind called Sebastian’s name, but her mouth couldn’t seem to find the words.

“I’m sorry,” Lofi muttered repeatedly.

Candra’s body felt like jelly; her legs felt empty, not able to hold her weight. Her whole body felt pliable and hollow, as if she would float away at any moment except for Lofi holding her there.

“It’s Ivy.”

It was two words, just two tiny words, and Candra felt her whole world implode. Everything went dark as she sagged against Lofi, both devastated and elated in one gut-wrenching and terrifying instant. All the air left her lungs in a terrible wail. Sebastian was safe; he was alive. For a fraction of a second it was just like losing her father all over again. It was her only other experience of death since she didn’t remember her mother. In that moment she had been terrified that Sebastian had done something stupid, because he’d been distracted or worried, that had gotten him killed. Her world had stopped turning. But it was the very same instant when Candra knew he was safe, she realized Ivy wasn’t.

After Lofi said Ivy was gone, Candra felt the world fade away. Time stopped for her. Candra vaguely recalled demanding to know how Ivy died and then crying, lots of crying. She had covered her ears like a petulant child refusing to listen. She didn’t want to know. Knowing would mean it really happened, and as if a switch flipped inside her, she shut down. The tears continued but nothing else. If she refused to hear how it happened, she could pretend to some degree it was simply another bad dream. Everything began to spin and buzz around her, but she was standing still in the midst of it. She remembered the smell of leather, but she couldn’t remember how she got home. But she knew she was home; it smelled like home.

Candra had a vague recollection of raised voices and being carried, but she tuned it out—it didn’t matter. She thought about time and decisions and consequences and how every little action in an entire life can mean setting an entirely new course.

If she had stayed with Ivy instead of running after Sebastian, would Ivy still be here? Her friend would have been safely tucked in bed instead of lying cold on a slab if she’d had the sleepover Ivy wanted. If she had told Ivy the truth, if she had never sat beside Ivy in class the first day they met, if she had turned away when Ivy spoke to her? Candra couldn’t help wondering if any of these choices changed the path of Ivy’s life that led to her death. She imagined time as a living breathing animal that she could corral and tame, a thing she could force her will upon instead of always the other way around. If she could just take back one moment, just one tiny moment in the grand scheme of whatever it was she was giving up everything to save, it would all be different now.

What if she couldn’t change anything? What if she gave up everything and the Watchers’ war began again regardless? Why should she be the one to sacrifice everything to save the lives of beings that were all going to die eventually, no matter what she did? The Watchers weren’t immortal. They could die, and eventually they all would, one way or another, and still there would be no eternity for them. It was all so unfair.

Sebastian was thinking about what he had promised Candra as he spent the day watching her drifting in and out of consciousness. Her mind didn’t want to accept the reality of what happened with Ivy, and instead it kept her locked in a semi-waking state where everything was just blurred around the edges enough to make it feel like a dream. He was meant to help her through it, the transition from her life to a life with Draven. It was such utter bullshit. How could he possibly stand there and hand her off to another guy? The part of Sebastian that was her friend—the one that cared for her enough to let her go as long as she was okay—was being repeatedly shot down by the two other parts: the Watcher part that was loath to give in to Draven and the guy part that was emotionally inexperienced with women and was torn between being a gentleman and just going with what he really wanted to do. Sebastian was used to controlling his desires, and having them control him was a whole different situation. So far he was pretty sure he was failing miserably.

Flying had been an impulse decision, a damned stupid impulse decision. He had gotten caught up in the moment when Candra made him roll down that hill, and he had wanted to share something with her. Sebastian never wanted to share anything with anyone.

Just before he had taken her up, he felt a rush of excitement, like every molecule in his body was roaring at him, trying to wake him from the stupor he had been walking around in forever. And then, in the clouds, she was suddenly everywhere, and the stunning view around them paled in comparison to her, not just her outward appearance, but everything about her: the way he wanted to touch her, the way she made him crazy and talked him in circles, how he couldn’t help smiling every time he caught her checking him out. He realized the time he spent with her wasn’t for her benefit—it was for his. He hung around so much because of how he felt by just being close to her.

Sebastian had so many misgivings about everything pressing down on him, and it made him want to scream or fight. But he couldn’t fight the past or change anything he had done, and at the same time, he knew it was his decisions that had brought him to that moment in the sky—Watchers, like humans, were the sum of their experiences. Sebastian truly didn’t want to make another mistake that could potentially leave Candra with a battered and bruised heart or carrying more emotional scars into her new life. Neither could he deny his feelings any longer. They had come flooding out of him in a torrent he couldn’t control.

He wanted to tell her—he was practically bursting at the seams to tell her—and the setting couldn’t have been more perfect. Up in the clouds was his secret place, where he went to be alone, and it was as if the sky itself had been rooting for him. But he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. Apparently words were not his thing, and so he’d told her a story he had heard once. It was utterly pathetic; for everything Sebastian had experienced in his life, he couldn’t afford himself the vulnerability of exposing his emotions that way. Then, he had kissed her…and she had kissed him back. Really kissed him back. Words didn’t seem so important any longer.

Rage had sliced through his body at the sight of Draven waiting for them at the townhouse—and not just at Draven, at himself too. For one glorious, foolish moment, he had allowed himself to believe Candra couldn’t leave him, that there was no way she would be able to walk away after what had just happened between them. It had blackened his rage further to know it was Draven that shattered his illusion, reminding him that his time with Candra was short. He did promise to let her go. A ridiculous promise.

When he had gotten the call from Brie about the shooting, he had rushed right over to the townhouse. Candra had come through the door, and flung herself across the room, crashing into his arms. That was when the proverbial shit hit the fan. Sebastian had scooped her up as she buried her tear-soaked face into his jacket. Brie wasn’t happy, Gabe wasn’t happy, and Lofi had worn a strange expression of disappointment. He had no idea what was said, because he hadn’t been listening. He could guess it went something along the lines of this being his plan all along. They would have been partially right; he did want Candra to fall for him, and it would have worked too, if he hadn’t gotten so damn close to her and fallen for her instead.

After that, he had held Candra for a good portion of the day, unwilling to force her to deal with the situation, knowing it made no difference. It wasn’t going to change anything if he let her sleep through her sobs. That turned out to be another wrong decision.

“Shush,” Sebastian whispered against Candra’s ear. He was lying curled behind her, his fingers soothingly combing through her hair.

“What time is it?” Candra’s throat was raw, and her chest felt like someone had stood on it. Outside her window, she saw it was nighttime, and her room was in darkness apart from the glow of streetlights.