Wicked Winter Book. 1

❅ Chapter 12 ❅

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

The only sound in the tent was the low crackle of embers snickering in the hearth and my breathing. Sebastian hadn't come home (yes we still lived in the same tent). He really didn't anymore.

Ever since our breakup, he would stay out 'til the Rising Bell. When the seven tolls bay would finally cease, he would prowl back inside with a half wild look on his face, his eyes blazing. Rarely words were passed. Normally I got a head nod, a grunt, and he would collapse on the couch with nothing more than a second glance.

This morning was only slightly different in the least. My sheets were suffocating this morning - I'd had a nightmare and the cool sweat from the dream left the silk and cotton sticky and wet to the touch.

But that's not what brought me to the brink of tears, to the the edge of hysteria.

The Rising Bell's chime still resonated inside me, seeming to vibrate inside my bones. Sebastian had come in late, slithering through the opening in the tent. Nothing new except... His hair was tussled, his clothes were wrinkled, and his lips were swollen. And... On this throat, right below his ear, I caught a faint shadow of red. On closer inspection, I realized it was lipsick.

My throat closed.

He must've caught me staring, because he puffed up the collar to his black tunic, a low grumble vibrating in his throat, his eyes fierce and cold. Almost distant.

So much for waiting, my own voice echoed hollowly inside my skull. You wanted this Eve, I tried to reason with myself - with the bubble of anger and raw betrayal building between my ribs. I was the one that broke up with him, after all. If he wanted to have... a little on the side, who was I to object? It wasn't my place to get angry or jealous. I wasn't his girlfriend anymore.

Breath in.

Breathe out.

Fine. If Sebastian was going to be so blinded, so naive that he couldn't see that what I was doing was only to help him, to protect him... Then so be it. I wouldn't care. I wouldn't let whatever these nagging, raging emotions inside of me were, control me.

I was not going to be broken by Sebastian O'Neill.

* * * * *

I did as Foster had instructed, not using magic even when I wanted to most. It was strange; he seemed like the only person I could trust anymore, given Nic and I didn't speak. I guess he was fae after all, so we were somewhat the same.
It was the main reason why I didn't put a few ice spikes between Danna and her little minions' eye balls. I pondered what they would look like - their faces, that is. Would they be outraged that a small, unprotected girl could get the best of them? Or would they be terrified, horror gripping their features in a tight, claw-tipped fist? I tried to keep the grin off my face as I imagined their red blood slick between my fingers.

Foster said I would only have to look for his symbol, and he would come to me. Finally the glamour would break, and I could blast them apart. I still didn't trust him completely, he was a faerie after all. And something about him seemed off - almost like he was hiding something, and I couldn't put my finger on it.

Something had snapped inside of me after the glamour was taken down for the first time. Something forever changed, and I wasn't quite sure if I liked it or hated it. I knew it wasn't me, to be so cold and maleficent - but it also made me numb. And being numb was a hell of a lot better than wallowing in my own self pity at night, choking on my own tears and snot.