Wicked Chase

❖ Chapter Seven

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END. PLEASE READ IT! 

[dedicated to Hope, who writes freaking fantastic fantasy novels]
[special mention to inevitxble for the cool cover in the multimedia section]

CHAPTER SEVEN

I knew my mother would not give up until she had gotten her way but I hadn't expected her to knock on my door for the rest of the day, demanding that I come out so she could tell me the rest of what she claimed was the truth. Except I was still angry and confused and furious. And I was better off not hearing anything that would only ignite a series of profanities and anger. Even when she knocked the door to give me my meals, I refused and said that I was not hungry when in actual fact I was. I was just so damn angry at my mother, at everything.

At the woman who never told me anything related to this before. At the man who claimed to be my father and wanted to protect me after leaving me fatherless for nineteen years. I was angry at the man with those alluring grey eyes that always managed to get me transfixed in his silvery gaze because he was a part of what I didn't know. And most of all, I was angry at myself. Of course I should have known that these nightmares were for a reason, that I wasn't totally insane as I thought I was, that meeting the man in my nightmares in real life had to mean something and that the man knew of it already because how could he not? When my mother and Alastair had made a mutual ground between them because they knew each other somehow, I knew that all my doubts about him were false - about him not knowing he was in my nightmares (except I wasn't really sure if he knew or not because I hadn't confronted him about it), about him being a normal man who had nothing weird or insane or questionable going on in his life.

I should have known. But I was always second thinking everything and that was why I was so damn angry at myself. Because if I hadn't actually second thought everything about Alastair I could have already had some answers from him. Now all I knew was that he had some connection with my mother and my father, and I was more than curious to know why, how, and what exactly was going on.

I was going to leave university, I knew that. I loved my mother to pieces and she had never made me do anything forcefully but I knew when she wanted things to get done, she would get them done. I had spent the rest of the night, sleepless, as I tossed and turned in bed thinking about the fear in her eyes.

Who was coming after me? Who was Thorin and why were his men chasing me? Endless questions had swirled my head and before I knew it the alarm was going off at seven in the morning, telling me that I had to get up and get ready for the classes and the day of work I had ahead of me.

When I had exited the room, after I had freshened up and put on a pair of skinny jeans which I had paired with a sleeveless turquoise cotton top, my mother was lounging on the sofa, her fingers pressing down on the buttons of the remote as she flicked through the channels on the television which wasn't all that classy because I didn't have the money to afford that luxury. She bolted upright once she had heard the shuffling behind her and looked at me.

"Genevieve, I'm so glad you finally came out," she said, relief flooding her voice and features and I felt the slight twinge of guilt for getting her so worked up. I wasn't making this easy for her and I knew that. "I'll get you some breakfast!" Without another word she dropped the remote control on the sofa and rushed to the kitchen, a few seconds passed by and a few noises, before my mother emerged from the kitchen holding a plate filled with pancakes and cream.