《Darkling》8| Distracted
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I was sitting in History, secretly using my phone. It was 9:15, she should be up by now. I opened my phone to the text she sent me last night.
Hey.
That was it. Just so I had her number. I started typing and then quickly sent out the text.
Are you up?
A minute later, my phone buzzed.
Yeah, I'm up. Thanks for last night, by the way.
I glanced at Mr. Billy, making sure he was busy discussing the powers we wrote essays on.
You already thanked me last night.
She replied within a minute.
So? I'm thanking you again. Are you in class?
Yeah. But I have a free period after this. Do you need anything?
"Callum."
"Hmm?" I looked up from my phone.
"Your essay?"
"Oh, here." I took it out of my bag and handed it to him.
"Thank you." And then he continued collecting everyone else's. "Does anyone know where Clara is?"
"She's sick," I blurted out.
Everyone looked at me. Surprised, confused, shocked.
"All right, no problem. Let's continue."
Her text came through.
No, I'm good. Thanks.
I quickly typed out a reply.
Stop thanking me.
"Since we're talking about the power of fire and Callum wrote about it, why don't you tell us? Brief us on it."
"I can show you, if you'd like," I shrugged.
He sighed.
"Clara isn't here," I stated.
"Very well, here. A candle." He came and put it down in front of me. "Talk about it first."
I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Like all the other powers, it's driven by emotion and intent. Without emotion, it won't work. And if you can't control the emotion, you don't have control over the power."
"And how does one gain control?"
"By using their emotions and channeling them the right way," I replied.
"And can you show us by lighting the candle?"
I looked down at the candle, staring at the wick. My phone buzzed in my hand and my heart rate spiked up. And that lit up the candle. I blinked, surprised at myself.
Why would her text make me channel the fire?
"Perfect." He took the candle, showing it to the class, and then blowing it out.
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I glanced at my phone.
No, thanks.
I bit back a smile and put my phone in my pocket.
"Electricity. Callum, before we talk about it, do you want to tell us anything from the experience?"
"Um..." I glanced at the class. "It's my least favorite one. Because it hurts the most. Every time I use it, I get shocked. When I'm manipulating the electricity, it goes through me. And that current, also goes through me. It's pretty painful, depending on what it is that I'm manipulating. The bigger and stronger the light, the more painful it is."
"And how do you channel it?"
"Not with emotion, actually. It's the most logical power, I think. You just think about doing something, you prepare yourself for the shock, and it happens. And you're shocked," I shrugged.
After that class ended, I headed to her room to check on her. It's my job, isn't it? Well, that's my excuse anyway.
I knocked on her door, waiting for her to get. A minute or two went by and no one answered. I tuned in my hearing, trying to listen through the door. It was fairly easy considering my powers.
She's in the shower.
I glanced around in the hallway to make sure no one was here and watching because that would just be a disaster waiting to happen in the name of a false rumor. When I found the hallway clear, I pulled out the key to her room from my back and unlocked the door, slipping inside. I went and sat at the desk chair, putting my bag down by my feet. I glanced around her room, taking in how different it looked now.
Kiara never kept it that way.
The room still had its dark areas with her black desk and the black velvet curtains, but she had pops of color everywhere. Mainly pink and blue.
Kiara always had nude tones in this room. Cream-colored sheets, white shelves. And the beaded curtain that comes with the room- the one Clara brought out for display by her vanity- Kiara shoved that into the closet, keeping it out of everyone's sight.
The door to the bathroom opened, the lock opening with a click. She sighed, turning the lights off behind her, and then came out while drying her hair with a towel. She halted in her steps when she saw me. "Hi," she stammered. "What um, what are you doing here?"
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"I knocked but you were in the shower. I used the spare key."
"I thought that was with you in case of emergencies. Me being in the shower hardly classifies as an emergency."
"You not answering the door does," I smirked.
"I could have been busy," she argued.
"Doing what? Nothing could possibly keep you so busy that you can't answer the door," I retorted.
"And what if I walked out—"
I lifted a brow at her sharply and she cut herself short.
Naked, is what she was going to say.
"Naked?" I prompted.
"No," she scoffed. She clearly doesn't know I can read minds.
"Right, well. I'm here to do my job. Which is to check on you. Are you doing okay?"
"You know, nothing actually happened to me. It was just a nightmare."
I narrowed my eyes at her while standing up. "A nightmare that did a lot. Do you remember it now? Just a little?" I'm just trying to make sure she doesn't. It's a power I don't use often, it could fade away quickly and very easily.
If she wants it to.
"No," she sighed, turning around and going back into the bathroom, putting her towel away. "But I'm sure I can guess what it was about," she mumbled.
"What?" I asked, watching as she walked past me and over to the window in the corner of her room.
She opened it, letting some air in, and then glanced at me. "My mother," she exhaled, rolling her eyes.
"And why is that a nightmare?"
"It just is," she said, clearly not warning to talk about it. She tried walking around me to get to her vanity but I blocked her way. "What?"
"Why is that a nightmare?"
"Why do I have to tell you?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
"You don't. You can tell someone else. But you should tell someone if you haven't told anybody yet."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It's supposed to mean that it isn't a good thing to... keep everything bottled up." I moved out of her way and let her go.
She grabbed her hairbrush and started brushing her hair. "Why are you really here?" she asked.
"The principal—"
"I know what the principal asked you to do. But why are you listening to her?" She turned to face me. "Why are you really here?"
"I'm here to make sure you're okay. Nothing else."
"Having one nightmare isn't such a big deal," she huffed.
"You know, if you don't want me here, you can just ask the principal to put someone else in charge of you," I scoffed.
"Like who?"
"Atticus," I blurted out.
She put the hairbrush down and looked at me in disbelief. "Maybe I'll just have to remind the principal that no one is in charge of me."
I rolled my eyes, sitting back down in the chair. "You know, I didn't waste my history lesson being distracted only to come here for this."
"And what made you so distracted?" she chuckled humorlessly.
"You."
She glanced at me but didn't say anything.
"Because if something happens to you, that's on me."
"I really appreciate you constantly reminding me of that," she said sarcastically. "Who asked you to agree to what the principal asked of you?"
"She's the principal."
"It's a free country."
How the hell do I explain to her that the principal asked me because I'm a darkling and no one can do anything to her if I step in?
"You're new here and you don't know anything." I stood up and walked over to her, standing beside her. "This school isn't as nice as it seems. Or as safe as it seems. I'm kind of your best shot at surviving Arcane High."
"And what makes you special enough for that?" She turned to face me.
I can't answer that either, goddamn it.
"All you need to know is that you're better off with me on your side."
"What's wrong with having Atticus on my side? Since you said I could trade you for him?" She lifted a brow at me, clearly pressing me on.
"You can't trade me for him. He can't do anything for you."
"And what can you do for me without even knowing me?"
That's what this is about. Knowing each other.
"You want to get to know each other?" She didn't reply and moved towards the beaded curtain we were behind but I grabbed her arm, pulling her back to her spot. "You want to know me?" I asked.
"I don't trust strangers," she answered.
"So you do," I nodded. "Fine, let's get to know each other then."
.
.
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8 199An Alexander Hamilton Love Story (Book 1)
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8 136At His Command
I'm Sienna Amato, the author of exactly one erotic novel. It hit the bestseller lists and I made millions. Too bad my publishing company screwed me over.Now I'm destitute. To make matters worse, I'm suffering from writer's block and my mom's in an expensive nursing home. I need money, fast. When I apply for a position at a publishing company as a secretary, I'm hoping for a simple nine-to-five job.But the publishing company's CEO has other plans. Tristan Black wants me to write a book that he's sure will be a bestseller. It involves sexual games. Between the two of us.Did I mention that I'm a virgin?
8 203The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield
***The wrong girl is sometimes The Right One.*** Charlotte Samuels thought she'd be stuck waiting tables at Marlow's until all her debts are paid off-in about ten thousand years or so. She definitely didn't expect a marriage proposal from the arrogant Brandon Maxfield who was blackmailed by his father to make her his wife if he didn't want his least favorite cousin to run Maxfield Industries. Charlotte's instinct was to say HELL NO! but she's stumped by a few obstacles: 1.) His old man Martin Maxfield is dear to her heart and has been recently deteriorating in health. 2.) She gets a million dollars if she stays married to Brandon for a year. 3.) She would rather like the opportunity to teach the attractive but awfully rude man a few lessons he didn't think he needed from a 'teenage gold-digger' which was his term of endearment for her on their first date-er, business meeting. So what's a girl got to do, right? Sure, she's young and a little rough around the edges but there's something her would-be husband didn't know about her yet-she's nothing like he ever expected. Thrust into the glitzy world a standard-issue Mrs. Maxfield would fit perfectly and rule with impeccable social grace, Charlotte will either have to force herself into the mold or break free of it, risking what little she has left for everything that she can gain.*** Copyright © 2014 by Nina Tippett. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Nina Tippett. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Images, music and videos used in the cover art and any of the multimedia content posted in this story are the sole property of their respective owners.
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