Page 6 of Spelled By Truth and Tresses

I swallowed thickly, then slowed my pace. “Not all the time.”

“Do you dream too?” He asked.

“I barely sleep,” I said, evading the question.

His eyes darkened and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Why?”

I furrowed my brows. “Why the fuck do you care?”

His only reply, a quiet growl that rumbled deep in his chest.

We reached the end of the path, and I sat down beneath the branches of a towering pine tree and nestled into the cushion of dried yellow leaves, then rested my back against the trunk.

“Tell me, pet.” He continued, even though I had made it apparent the conversation was over. “When did it start?”

“I’m not talking to you about this. Leave me alone, Jax.”

“Of course you’re a brat.” He sighed, then crouched in front of me. “Can’t you see I’m trying to figure all this shit out? So I can get you out of my fucking head.”

“That’s just too bad,” I replied, although I was curious. But I couldn’t be near him, not when he was callous with his words. I just wanted to be away from it all. “You can’t just come up to me demanding answers and acting like a dick.”

He rolled his eyes, and I glanced up. Dappled sunlight snuck through gaps in the leaves, highlighting the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. He pulled out a textbook and ripped out a page, then scribbled something onto the amputated page and handed it to me. “Call me. We should talk about this.”

“I’m not calling you,” I snapped.

“Yes, you will,” he states arrogantly, then strode away quickly.

I went to tear it up, but something told me not, call it a gut instinct. I shoved it into my bag and watched him until he disappeared.

CHAPTER 4

Icouldn’t stomach another moment at the academy, especially after what Jax said about my dad and the dreams.

The nightmares.

Was he having premonitions about me? He said the dreams were drenched in blood, but that could mean anything. I was too quick to anger when he approached me today, but he was an asshole and certainly lived up to his reputation. I wasn’t about to spill my secrets to him. We’re natural enemies, and that tension was obvious when we were close to each other. It was as if our magic both called and rejected each other at the same time.

Once I was in the safety of my room, I let my hair out of the braid and sat at my vanity.

I squinted as the afternoon sun streamed through the steel gray curtains in my room and across to my reflection in the mirror. My teeth clenched together in a mockery of a smile as I practiced my relaxed, joyful expression, but the result was more of a grimace. I sighed, then let my face fall back into its new normal since summer began, the corners of my lips tilted downward.

I huffed, then crossed my arms over my chest. No way in hell was this smile going to fool her.

The knot in my chest only grew as I thought of the woman intended to be my caregiver since birth. I was my mother’s only child, meaning all her dreams had been placed heavily on me—and under that immense pressure I failed spectacularly. Well, at least in her eyes.

Since the start of summer, everything had changed. I had given up everything which used to be important, including my friends. The fracture in my friendship with Lalita was aided by my Mother.

My eyes burned as if I were on the verge of crying, but no tears ever fell. I toyed with a tube of lipstick my dad had bought me. He knew I loved them and would pick them up from the store on his way home. It wasn’t my color, but I loved him for trying. I couldn’t bring myself to give it away or throw it out, and I was glad I didn’t.

Since the day my dad died, I’ve changed irrevocably. The events of that day were permanently scarred into my memory. Mother had spent a good hour staring at my dad’s blanket, which she laid out on the bed. She touched the wool material and closed her eyes, clinging to the threads of him.

“What do we do now?” I had asked her, still unsure why I expected an answer. She blinked twice and let the blanket go, then walked out of her room in a zombie-like state.

The first week was the worst. I had never seen someone in so much pain. That was when the guilt trips started again. I escaped my mother’s clutches three years ago when I got accepted to Ghost Rose Academy. I showed my dad my acceptance letter and burned it. The risk of my mother finding it too great to keep as a memento.

My parents’ relationship was toxic at the best of times, but I know my dad loved her dearly. However, he understood how I ached to be free and encouraged my minor rebellions. If it weren’t for him, I would have never met Lalita or experienced true freedoms, even if it was only for a short while.

I turned, then stared at my bookshelf for so long the sharp lines defining each spine blurred into one, before I finally nestled into my bed. I pulled up my black quilted comforter until it reached my chin. My thin curtains didn’t block any of the light coming from the street. It was too early to sleep, but I didn’t care. I needed a head start; it took me hours of tossing and turning sometimes before I drifted off, and even then, it would be interrupted with nightmares.

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