Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I tapped my books. “I need to do my homework.”
Everything was gone in that moment. The air was replete, sucked of emotion, and I actually saw Kellan’s chest fall in disappointment.
“I don’t think I can go running in the morning. I’ll be up late studying. There’s a test in college psych tomorrow, you know…” I trailed off.
Kellan just sighed and left.
I was okay with it. I had homework to do. In some ways, I wasn’t sure if I was a coward or if I was courageous.
Dew still stuck to my car. The morning was chilled. A light smattering of chirping birds could be heard in the background as I arrived at school the next morning. I took a moment and remained in my seat. I wasn’t quite ready to face another day as a Braden. It didn’t use to bother me so much, but…things had started to change, somehow, unexplainably.
Pulling the mirror over, I sat back and studied what I saw.
I had a heart-shaped face, with slightly reddened cheeks that came naturally. My cheekbones seemed to stick out, which drew the eye to my lips. A curve filled out on my top lip, and the bottom was slightly plush. And my eyes, dark eyelashes over frostbitten green eyes, and coal black hair that framed each side of my face.
I looked good. I knew it, but I didn’t care. Giuseppa was gorgeous. She was one of those golden Greek goddesses, and she loved it. She used her looks to get anything she wanted, and if her looks didn’t work, she’d use her powers. She’d probably slept with half of the guys in school, and most of them didn’t even remember. Gus was the ultimate female player, but no one even considered slamming her with labels such as “slut” or “whore.” Gus was just Gus, and she wasn’t considered on the same level as the human girls, who would call each other “slut” or “whore.”
Gus used them, enjoyed them, and made them forget. There were no ramifications afterwards.
I wasn’t sure, but I assumed Vespar did the same thing. He was just more discreet about it.
And Kellan…Kellan slept with who he wanted. If he changed their memories, that was up to him. No girl dared make any demands after a night with him. She wouldn’t have lasted long enough for the words to even escape her lips. His look alone would’ve filleted her, but I knew he altered some memories. I’d felt it in the air, like he’d felt my power last night. I always assumed that his sexual exploits, the ones that turned bad, were the recipients of erased memories.
Maybe, maybe not.
Matt Rettley’s scamper was the same as everyone else. No one wanted to mess with Kellan. If they did, those people tended to be changed for the rest of their life.
And me…I stared in the mirror. I looked different from them. I felt different from them. But was I different? I had the same powers, more powers, but I rarely used them. I felt like I couldn’t, like I hadn’t a reason for them, not yet.
I eyed my clothes. I always chose black, though I wasn’t sure the reason. And I always covered every inch. Sometimes I wore jeans, like I was wearing today. They were faded blue that I paired with a tight black long-sleeved shirt. Why did I cover my skin? It wasn’t because I was pale to my siblings’ tanned skin. No, it was because something new had started to arise in the last year, something that I didn’t dare tell a soul, especially my siblings.
I pushed up one of my sleeves and looked down. My wrist was pale, like normal, but three inches above, a black circling tattoo had formed. Some days it was there, and other days it wasn’t. I hadn’t asked for it. I hadn’t performed any spell for it. I had no idea what it meant, but it was on my arm anyway.
It scared the crap out of me. I was the only one with it.
“Hey!”
I looked up in time to watch a body thrown across the front of my car. It bounced and dropped to the ground outside my door. I hurried out and saw the body was a skinny boy with scraggly blond hair. He looked like he hadn’t showered in a week, and there were two holes ripped in his red T-shirt. The jeans were skin tight, not designer tight, but washed too many times tight. They rested an inch above his socks and sneakers.
He looked up in horror, and the look doubled when he saw who I was. As I closed the door and stepped to the side, two athletic-looking guys raced around and braked at the sight of me.
I was a Braden after all.
“Sorry, Shay.” One of the guys rushed out, his chest heaving underneath a blue polo shirt.