Undefined - The Zephyr Book 1 ? (completed)(#Wattys2016)

Chapter 4 - Syianne

4 - Syianne

When we reach Art's house, his bad mood suddenly vanishes. He chatters amiably for a while with Nita telling her about the game before he steps into the shower. I sit at the kitchen table, my mouth watering from the smell of Nita's cooking and continue to brood.

I want everything to stay still and steady and stop moving all the time. There's only one thing I wish I could change. If I could have, I would remove the Jewel from my forehead. I don't mind if that would make me someone other than myself, but it marks the fate that has been forced upon me.

Nita lets me be, and I'm grateful for that. I enjoy watching her cook, sweeping so gracefully through the kitchen, doing twelve different things at once. My own mom is a terrible cook; we usually eat frozen microwave meals.

Artus comes out of the shower, his blond hair dripping onto his faded blue T-shirt. He smiles at me and nods in the direction of his room. Silently, I pad after him.

His room is small, with a bed and a desk and just enough standing space to squeeze into the chair in front of the desk. I sit on the rug with my back against the bed and the huge toad doll propped between my knees. This exact spot on the floor and this doll have been mine for the past ten years. Art, like always, is lying on his stomach on the bed solving math problems we got for homework. I used to be a good student, but I don't bother anymore, it's not like I'll ever be able to go to college anyway.

I feel unshakeably content; I close my eyes and lean my head back.

"I had that strange dream again," he says. "With that place with all the grey buildings and rubble and flashing lights."

"Aren't all dreams strange?" I muse.

"But this time you were there," he continues, ignoring my comment. "You were walking straight on, wearing this long black raincoat and black boots and everyone was following you. The stone on your forehead was also black, and so were your eyes. It was scary, because I could tell it was you but then you looked at me and didn't seem to know who I was."

I open my eyes and stare at him; he's leaning towards me gazing at me with intensity. "I wonder what your subconscious is trying to tell you," I say dryly.

He smirks and ruffles my hair. "Maybe that you're under my skin."

That squeezes a smile out of me; I feel the weakness inside me begin to flutter again, small ripples of desire pulsing through me. He suddenly slides off the bed and his shoulder is touching mine. "Sy," he says looking wistfully at me.

I feel like I've swallowed a cat and it's thrashing about in my throat. I try to laugh this feeling off, shaking my head. "Art," I reply somewhat coldly.

"Don't be mad at me." It's not a request; he uses that commanding tone I sometimes use with him. The effect it has on me is outrageous; I suddenly can barely fight the urge to be irreversibly reckless.

And neither can he. He turns to me and grasps my face in both his hands, I grab handfuls of his T-shirt, trying to remember whether I need to pull him or push him. He presses his forehead against mine, his warm breath tickling my face.

It smells like toothpaste.

The bastard, he had been planning this all along.

My hands tighten over the fabric of his shirt, my breath is caught inside my chest.

I pull him toward me, my head turned toward his, my chin jutting upwards, my lips ready -

Nita knocks on the door; we both jump away from each other before she opens it, Art bangs his head against the wall when he leaps onto the bed. She's not dumb though, we're both flushed and out of breath, she takes a moment to look from him to me. Her smile is far too knowing, "Karnus is home," she says cheerfully, "let's eat."