Page 181 of Wanted

His upper lip pulls back in a snarl. “Soulmarked.”

I want to ask her name now, but my throat refuses to cooperate.

The symbol on the Prophet’s forehead suddenly lights up, glowing bright red, and he smiles. “Come. It’s time to squash these annoying pests once and for all. I will answer more of your questions later. And you will answer mine.”

Using my hair as his handle, the Prophet drags me with him out of the room and up the stone stairs.

I feel the tugging on my scalp, but it doesn’t hurt.

However, it brings up some awful memories. Memories of my mother doing the same thing when I was younger.

And I wonder if that’s exactly why he’s doing it.

Don’t!my inner bitch warns a second before I act on the desire to tear myself free.

Hesitating, I snarl at her,Why not? Why should I let him drag me around? Shouldn’t I fight back?

Because something is off,my inner bitch says, sounding nervous for the first time. You should play possum for now.

Gritting my teeth together and trying to swallow down the huge lump filling my throat, I do as she says.

The Prophet pauses at the top of the stairs and turns his head to look at me. I peer back at him curiously, wondering why he stopped.

Slowly, almost gently, he slides his fingers out of my hair.

Can I attack him now?I ask my inner bitch.

No, she growls.

Taking a step back, the Prophet’s black scrutiny roams slowly down my body.

When he looks into your eyes, act as if you’re falling under his spell, my inner bitch snaps.

What?!

She screams inside my head, Act as if he’s Raphael!

The Prophet’s gaze begins to roam back up, and I do my best to soften my eyes when his black pits reach my face.

He peers at me for what feels like an eternity, and the only way I can keep my gaze soft is by blocking out his ugly white face and replacing it with Raphael’s.

“That’s better. Much better,” he purrs, then offers me his hand.

Take it and smile, my inner bitch instructs.

I grit out,Why am I doing this again?

Because he’s trying to do something to you that’s not working, she explains.And we don’t want him to know it.

Smiling, I place my hand in his.

Pretending it’s Raphael’s, I gently squeeze my fingers around his palm before his fingers squeeze around mine.

My very being wants to scream at the wrongness of it all. He is not my bonded. He is not my fated.

Not the other half of my soul.

He doesn’t complete me.

---