Unraveling Soren, Marisa Maichel [people reading books .TXT] 📗

a waitress in an American-themed restaurant. “Kayla wanted me to work her shift, so she could be with her sick baby. And then Harlow wanted me to work so she could go to her boyfriend’s band concert.”

“Is the band any good?”

“No, they suck. But she’s crazy about him, and I love her, so I couldn’t say no. Besides, I owe her for taking my shift when I got the flu.”

“The flu can go screw itself. It should know you’re mine,” I teased. Truthfully, I’d been worried. Sarah has a weak immune system, due to her mother’s constant drinking while pregnant. She had also forgotten to get the shot in all the excitement of the preceding year. My mother, who had taken a liking to Sarah and fallen completely head over heels for her, blamed herself and said it was her duty as a mother to make sure all her children were taken care of, especially the weak, fragile humans.

Sarah, Sabine, and Cirino. Cirino was Sarah’s son from Michael Nales, who had raped her the November before last. As a result, the baby was born last July. He was still tiny and gassy, but he’d grown a lot since then. He had started to crawl, for one. Sarah’s dog, Spunk, had learned to crawl along with him. The golden retriever would slide along the floor on his belly, using his back feet as propellers. The dog was not very bright. Their other dog, Coffee, a Tyrannosaurus Rex in the form of a brown Chihuahua, had taken a liking to Cirino and made herself protector of him.

Coffee would no longer let me near Cirino. Granted, she refused to let me near Sarah for the longest time. Sarah insisted that Coffee just didn’t like males, but the little tyrant’s relationship with my future stepson and my cousin Kieran proved her statement wrong. Kieran had attached himself to the family, despite his strained relationship with my stepfather, Alexander. Kieran blamed him for his mother’s death. Kieran was half-human, a rarity in the world of supernaturals and paranormals. His friend, Kellan, was fully vampire, an albino man with a massive crush on Kieran. Kieran, however, had been reluctant to date anyone since his mate, Thomas, had passed away.

Sarah put her feet on the ground, then sat on my bed cross-legged. I noticed that she was wearing one of her cheerleading practice outfits: leggings, and an oversized t-shirt that used to be mine. Her feet were bare, though. She whipped out her cell phone and texted furiously. No doubt to one of her many friends. She was currently the most popular girl in school. Frankly, it didn’t matter to me how many friends she had.

She was mine, that was all that mattered. My unconditional love for her had begun not long after I rescued her after she’d been raped by Nales. Before then, I’d loved her, but I didn’t know her very well.

She stopped texting and looked up at me.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” she said. “I like it long. Don’t ever cut it again.”

“Baby, I might have to. Toby might be fine with waist-length hair, but that’s not for me,” I teased.

“Yeah, how is Toby?”

“He’s better. He can speak freely now.” Last year, my friend and ex-guard had been hung from the ceiling with a rope around his neck. He’d been dangling there for five hours. He couldn’t speak for weeks. His mate, Spencer, had expressly forbidden him to be a guard again. Toby was now working as a house cleaner instead.

Sarah uncrossed her legs, then laid across my bed. I laid on the bed on my stomach, gazing at her as she focused her attention back onto her phone, which had vibrated.

“Who are you texting?” I asked.

“Ariella,” she replied. I tensed. Ariella Spears, my human ex-best friend, had chosen the werewolves over me and Uncle Soren, with whom she’d had a brief, mostly physical relationship with.

But now Damon Sage had dumped her again. I had never cared for Damon Sage, anyway, even before I knew he was a wolf. I always thought he was dumber than a box of rocks. No sophistication, no class, no dynamic. It was all leather and motorcycles and cigarettes and beer for him.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“We’re discussing our next study session. Senior year is so important. Everything you do matters.”

“Don’t overwork yourself,” I warned.

“You’re one to talk. What, how many pieces of paper are in your bookbag?”

“A lot. But it’s not all schoolwork. I also have Council notes, college essays and applications, and I have to keep practicing guitar if I’m going to teach you how to play it.”

“Yeah, about that…I’m not sure I want to learn guitar. Piano, yes, but not guitar.”

“I can teach you piano, too. It’s a great way for you to learn something and for us to spend time together.”

“Yeah…I’m not sure if I want you to teach me, either.”

I tensed. I remembered Eric Martin, a werewolf and her original piano teacher. He’d chased her until she told him to stop. What if that happened again? My girl was more than a human; she was also part fairy. Her fairy blood was what drew more people to her. Sure, she was naturally beautiful, and sweet, a beautiful soul, but her fairy blood enabled her to control people if she so desired. Not that I was afraid of that. No way.

And what girl wouldn’t want a million guys chasing her? Or so I’d thought. Love triangles are messy, confusing, and unfair to the person who will not wind up with the love interest. But still, girls seemed to want guys always after them. Or maybe it was simply the female company that Sarah hung out with, who really did have at least a dozen guys chasing them.

Sara “Honey” Blynn, Rachel Griffin, Angela Montgomery, Mia Rayport, and now Ariella Spears. Scarlett and Jordan Hart no longer included.

The worst of the worst. The best of the best. The ruling clique. And Sarah is at the top, and she’s the best of the best. She had at least four hundred guys lusting after her, but she stayed with me for some unfathomable reason.

“I hope I didn’t insult you,” she said after a while.

“No,” I lied. “It’s okay.” No, it was damn well not okay. She was mine.

Control yourself, Reese. I blinked. Of course Father would be listening in. Girls don’t like jealous guys. It’s a red flag.

He was right. Of course he was. He’d been married and divorced once, to my mother, even though he was over two thousand years old. Or so I thought. I had the feeling that he had been with more people than just Mother and Faolan, but he never mentioned them. Perhaps he didn’t want to remember them, or maybe he was afraid I would try to find them, which was irrational, but totally something that he would think I’d do.

I went over to my stereo and turned on REO Speedwagon. Both Sarah and I liked them, one of the few bands we could agree on, along with Breaking Benjamin, Journey, and Green Day. She was listening to more and more of my music, though, and I was listening to more and more of hers. Our bookshelves had mixed genres. I preferred horror, she preferred romances. But she had read Dracula for the first time recently, and liked it. She asked me how much of it was true, and I said a bit. There are vampires who can’t handle sunlight. There are a select few who can turn into animals. There are a few who are allergic to certain foods, but onions and garlic mostly stink to us.

I asked her if all humans were entitled brats. She laughed and said that some were. She dealt with entitlement all the time at her job.

Anyway, I took Sarah in my arms and lifted her up. She put her feet on the floor, and we started to dance to the music. Then Jack Savoretti, who was one of her favorite artists, came on. After a few more minutes, she broke away, saying “Bathroom break,” and sprinted to the bathroom. I watched her muscular legs as she moved.

I turned back, and blinked. Who was that in the window? It was a man, that much was clear. He wore glasses, and he had light brown hair and brown skin. His eyes were green. Then I realized…he looked like Beckett Cresley, Sarah’s dead father. He jumped down when she came back.

“What’s so interesting out there?” she asked.

“N-nothing,” I lied. She looked concerned, and I took her in my arms again. We danced for thirty minutes, then she sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest.

I took her hand in mine and sat beside her. I looked at her hand. Soft, brown tan, the nails long and rounded, covered in a dark red nail polish. The knuckles were sparkling.

“Did you put on some shimmery lotion?” I asked.

“No,” she answered, looking confused. “Why are my hands sparkly?”

I couldn’t answer that. She stretched, her arms reaching up to the ceiling, and I heard her back pop.

“Oh, my back hurts,” she complained. “Four times I had to have Stella on my back, because Ms. Kent said my pyramid work was sloppy.”

“What a bitch,” I said, the appropriate answer for Cella Kent, whom all the cheerleaders hated, as she’d insulted every one of them at least once. Chris, Sarah’s personal guard, was now watching the outside practices under the guise of a watchful aunt, ready to intervene if things went too far. She had reported that Kent was definitely a bitch, but nothing that warranted intervention yet. Sarah could handle it herself. And the cheerleaders, although some of them hated each other, stuck up for each other at this point, they all hated her so much.

Chris had grown attached to Sarah, almost like another mother. Sarah had my own mother, as her own mother was now dead and my mother acted more like a mother to her than her mother did. There had been a brief incident last year, when a vampire named Jessica acted strange, following Sarah around, saying that she reminded her of her dead daughter.

Subsequently, my mother won that brief cold battle.

Sarah finished stretching, then laid back upon my new queen-sized bed. She looked at her phone, then yelped.

“I should be at Sabine’s school right now! I’m supposed to pick her up from cheer!”

Apparently, Sabine had also decided to become a cheerleader.

After Sarah left, I thought about what I’d seen. Beckett Cresley was dead. No way he could be alive. Or maybe he’d only pretended to be dead? If he had, that was a crappy thing to do.

The next morning, I went down to find a glass of blood already set out for me. I drank it quickly, pausing to wipe my mouth with a napkin. I had some time before I had to leave for school, so I looked over my homework and made sure I got all the Calculus problems right. I was sure I’d screwed up somewhere on question nineteen.

I checked Sarah’s Facebook, as I did every day. She’d already posted her daily selfie. This time, her hair was in a fishtail braid, her lips pink, her eyes lined with brown eyeliner, making them look bigger, and her mascara was perfect, as always. She was sipping her daily iced mocha from McDonald’s. Twenty-four likes already. I checked her Instagram. Thirty-four likes. No doubt her Twitter had some likes, too.

I shoved my homework back in my backpack, then headed to my car. I’d fallen in love with a Nissan GT-R last year, and now drove it. Along with a Toyota on occasion. I also had a Jeep, and a Chevrolet Astro that no longer worked. I was sad, because I loved the Astro, and always would. My father had even more cars. A Rolls-Royce, a Ferrari, a Corvette, a Lamborghini, and a Dodge Charger. Sometimes I wondered how we had