Wow, I never though people who like this that much. Looks like I'm not the only one who's obsessed with the amazing book series of Hush, Hush. Sorry for the slow update, I was very busy with school and personal issues. Another apology for this chapter, it's short and pretty bad. I haven't wrote in a while and it's hard for me to get back into it. I also just wanted to give a little more of a background. I hope you guys enjoy it, and I promise another update as soon as possible. Feel free to message me some of your own ideas and input. A cover photo would be amazing, just throwing that out there! :p
Thanks again!
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The force of the wind, that my body defied gravity by pulling, whipped and whirled me around as I soared across the humid, damp room. Trying to control my landing, which was preferably on my feet, my behind got the brutal fall and skidded me backwards, slamming my head and upper back against a wall. Air completely left my reach as I put my head in my hands fighting to breathe. Looking up slowly to the source, our eyes met and vulnerability hit as concern flooded his dark eyes. A small smirk pulled on the corner of my lips before I pounced. Our moves performed in perfect sync, with such beautiful grace and rhythm that we matched in. Finally the upper hand presented itself, and my legs severed a roundhouses kick straight to the gut. He stammered, helping me gain strength to shove him against the wall, with my forearm pushing roughly into his Adam's apple. Quickly grabbing my blade from my right leather bootie, I used it to replace my arm. We both panted and held eye contact until his smile of defeat appeared, which triggered my own full on beam.
I did it. I actually did it, I stated in my mind with disbelief. Backing up, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.
I told you it was possible, angel. You did it, and you didn't even have to push a tree, Patch spoke to my mind pridefully. A real giggle escaped me. Ever since the battle between Dante and I, I feared of history repeating itself and needed the comfort of knowing I could protect myself and those I love. I couldn't possibly sit back and watch something try to tear me and Patch apart again. So, for the past three and a half years I've had Patch train me, help me and exploit my supernatural strengths. Dante's little, and very much fake, training techniques surprisingly worked a little bit. Or maybe it was the fact that my mind switched to battle mode and channelled enough for beginners, and I just simply can't face the memory that we'd all been fooled. During the years of Patch's training, we'd come to the goal of me beating Patch. That's how I'd know I could relax, and try to completely forget the things in the past and have peace of mind. It felt like a huge weight rolled right off of my chest.
New York City roared with its typical loud noises and buzzing tourist. The lights of time square gorgeously glistened against the night sky, this was by far my favorite thing about living in this city. Inspiration found on every corner, and thousands of people to feed off of it. I could tell Patch felt happy here too. Because we were free. We didn't have to worry about anything other than us here. Our hands intertwined as we turned down an unfamiliar alley and kept onwards.
"Jack and Rose could've saved their love, but they both were too irrational. If I were Jack, I would've made sure you left on that lifeboat. If Rose didn't get off of it, she would've been safe sooner and Jack would've survived," Patch argued, getting irritated over the decisions of the characters from The Titanic, which we just finished watching a screening of at a small movie theater. It caused butterflies of love and frustration flutter in my stomach at his words. He always put my safety first, making it difficult for me when I only cared for his.
"I think Rose made a right move, except for taking up the whole door thing in the ocean. Even if Jack insisted of her staying on there, she could've at least help him get something to lay on before she took a nap," I discussed further. No matter how many times I watched the movie, which was well over a hundred, I couldn't figure out how they didn't think of better ways for them both to survive and just meet up afterwards. Patch tilted his head from side to side in a slight movement, considering.
"They were both just stupid and in love," he simplified, smirking down at me as we stepped onto a sidewalk.
"Maybe we can relate," I thought of all our ridiculous situations during our relationship. Patch's smile broke out and he shook his head, "No we can," he spun my hand around so that my stomach was pressed against his hard chest and I was looking into his eyes that were just so close and nearly the hue of his black v-neck. "We're smart and in love," be finished, pecking my nose as I laughed at his corny words. We continued to walk on, and I couldn't help but to walk closer to him. I loved all of the sides of Patch that I have been blessed to see. The mysteriously sexy, dark and infuriating, dangerous and humorous, sweet and loving, generous and kind, charming fallen angel always found a way to melt my heart. Patch suddenly stopped in his tracks, pulling me out of my train of thought and caused me to stumble a bit. I fixed my footing and found him staring at the building on the right of us. Following his eyes, I read the sign hanging outside and a smile stretched across my face, mimicking the one that started to grow on his own face.
Sticks Pool Hall, stood out in neon colors hanging from the inside of a gigantic glass window. Gambling is something that I've known Patch for since we've met. His fallen angel abilities and the fact that he's had centuries to expert the techniques, you could say he was pretty amazing at it. However, ever since we've left Coldwater, he hasn't been able to feed his addiction.
"Wanna go in?" I ask already knowing the answer, for old times sake. Patch simply gave me his signature wicked smirk and started his way towards the door, with me following hand in hand.
The scent was oh so familiar, I couldn't help but pull Patch's arm closer, so I could press my nose into his shoulder to smell his earthy scent mixed into the smoke. A smell that reminded me of a time where I considered Patch nothing more than my attractive and dangerous biology partner, who I couldn't of been drawn to enough.
We played a few rounds of pool, Patch obviously winning due to the fact my skills of the game were very limited. I now sat down at the little bar, drinking a sprite as Patch played a hand of poker with a few other men. Men that looked like they didn't like the thought of losing one bit, especially to someone who looked merely nineteen years old. They were buff guys, with tattoos designing their arms, along with big gory scars tracing their features. It frightened me seeing their facial expressions when Patch received the upper hand, but I understood Patch knew what he was doing.
"New comers?" A voice said from my right, startling me. Whipping my head in their directions, a girl smiled wide. She had obviously dyed, fire engine red hair that feel gracefully straight down to the small of her back, side bangs tucked behind her ear with one strand close to her left eye. A beam heart shaped, flawless kind face with brown eyes, that I swear had flecks of actual gold in them. Her attire consisted of a plain white tee v-neck, a pair of distressed fade boyfriend jeans rolled over a pair of black combat boots. She looked comfortable in the environment, which I seemed envied greatly. Snapping out of my trance, I returned her smile before nodding my head.
"Yeah, my boyfriend and I just moved to New York a little more than a year ago, and haven't really had the time to get out much with the move," I somewhat lied. We did move here fifteen months ago, almost to the day. However, the move was easy and took less than a week to complete. We rarely got out due to the fact that we were too caught up in each other and didn't want to let the outside world in. Even if it were three years ago, I did lose Patch and during that time he was gone, it felt like I went an eternity without his love. The red head nodded, picked up her mug which I assumed held beer and took a small slug.
"Understandable. How's the city treating you and you're old man?" She asked with what seemed like actual interest. My smile grew wider, "Very well, thank you."
Her stool spun around so her body was facing me completely as she stuck out a hand that had rings attached to every finger.
"I'm Drusilla, well, Dru," she chuckled as she tried to excuse the old fashion name with a nickname.
"Nora," I shook Dru's hand in kind greeting. Drusilla slipped her bottom off of the stool, gathering her hobo bag that rested underneath the bar. Flinging it over her arm, she turned to face me once more.
"Well Nora, it was a pleasure to meet you," she grabbed a napkin and removed a sharpie marker from her bag, taking the cap off to scribble some unknown things down on the napkin. "But, I've got my fills for tonight and I see that your man is destroying and don't want to press my luck anymore than I already have," she replaced the cap and returned it to her bag before handing me her artwork. Looking down with a raised eyebrow, I see what seems to be her telephone number. "So here is my number, and I hope that you and your boyfriend will give me the honor of being your official New York City tour guide, trust me I've been here long enough to know the best pool halls and bars," she smirked, bid her goodbye, and dismissed herself without another word. I found her exit slightly odd. But I couldn't deny the happiness that the thought of a possible new friend brought to me. It's been forever since I've had an actual girls day, which I couldn't blame Vee for. She's made plenty of new friends in England, and it's not her burden to have me depend on her from another country. Pushing the thought of Vee aside before the knot surfaced in my stomach, I put the napkin in my back pocket with a beaming smile on my face as my eyes searched for Patch's. When they found each other, my heart melted from the smirk that was teasing on his lips. Gathering his winnings, he stood to move towards me, but stopped suddenly. His eyes were locked on one of the men, eyebrows raised.
What is it?, I asked telepathically. He looked away from the man and back at me, there was something I couldn't fathom on his face. But a feeling in my gut told me it couldn't be good.
Please, not again.
Patch shook it off and continued his way towards me, grabbing me by the forearm and leading me out of the door. Ignoring my questions and protests, he dragged me all the way home, not saying a simple word.
My head clouded with dread as I prepared for the worst, and wondered why this always happens.
