She turns, her eyes skeptical. “What about today?”
“He wanted to scare you. Or me. Sebastian is playing a dangerous game.” One that will end with him ceasing to exist if he threatens Vivienne again.
“This is too much. I don’t think I can deal with this. Maybe I don’t want my memories, maybe I—”
“It’s too late.” I clasp her to my chest. “Memories or not, he knows who you are and what you are to me. He’s not going to stop.”
“So what do we do?”
Hunt Sebastian down and end him. Vivienne’s fear prevents me from saying the words. “We go inside. We take an hour to eat and think about anything other than Sebastian. Then, we call my uncle.”
I head for the door, but her hand yanks me back when she doesn’t follow. “Breck?” Her fingers tighten around my hand. “What am I to you?”
My eyes scan the frailty of her. This delicately beautiful slip of a girl who claimed my soul and is taking possession of my heart.
“My soul mate.”
Someone to You
Vivienne
“You have an uncle?”
I follow Breckin into the house, and this time we stay on the main floor. He points to the stools sitting at the kitchen counter, telling me to have a seat as he raids the refrigerator. Seriously? He throws words like soul mate around, then drags me into his million-dollar kitchen and offers me a snack? How did this become my life?
Soul mate. My mind refuses to process his words. I’m numb.
“Sort of. We’re not related, but he’s the closest thing I have to family.”
“Is he the one who erased my memories Saturday night?”
A jar of nacho cheese slides across the pristine marble counter as he shuts the refrigerator. “Yeah.” He moves to a pantry the size of my bedroom and grabs a bag of chips.
“And what does he think of all this?” I prod, when he doesn’t elaborate.
“Chip?” He pops the lid from the jar, dipping a blue corn chip into the sauce.
“Breck?”
“Vivie?” His brow arches. I force back a reply at his flippant tone.
“What does your uncle think of this?” I wave a hand between us.
“You can ask him when he arrives.” He stretches across the counter and holds a chip out. “Eat.”
“Did you just order me to eat?” I bristle, taking the chip without thought.
“Order is a strong word.” He dips another. “I asked.”
I cross my legs and square my shoulders, taking a breath. “You most certainly did not ask.”
The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Are you mad at me for trying to make you eat something?”
The chip he handed me drops to the counter, the glob of fake cheese smearing yellow across the gorgeous white. “I’m mad at you for ignoring my questions and yes, for trying to make me eat.”
“You’re not hungry?”
“Oh my gosh. That is not the point, Breckin.”
My flustered outburst is met with a flirtatious grin. It takes all my willpower to remain across the four-foot kitchen island from him. This boy makes me crazy.
Exasperated, I lean back. “Do you always get what you want?”
“Yes.” There’s no shame in his answer. I clamp my jaw.
My weak soul dances at his cockiness as my independent mind theorizes ways to knock him off his high horse. As though he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he smiles and tilts his head, his amber-flecked eyes pinning me to my seat. His intense gaze sends heat creeping up my neck. I wipe my palms on my thighs as Breckin’s entire face transforms. A tight mask of concentration takes over as he straightens his back and breathes with precision—his chest rising and falling slowly.
Something teases across my mind, and I jerk back, gasping for air.
Breckin blinks, his face relaxing as a small scowl appears.
I grip the counter and watch him closely as the feeling withdraws. “What did you just do?”
His scowl deepens.
“What did you do, Breckin?” My stool clatters back as I stand. Fists form at my sides.
Breckin wipes at his forehead with a curse. “I’m sorry.”
He hurries around the counter, and I step back, unnerved by his actions. His face falls.
“Vivie?” Breckin lifts his hands in a silent plea for forgiveness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I was trying to use compulsion. I never—”
“Compulsion? To make me eat?” I spit the words at him.
“You argued with me.”
That’s his excuse? “I’m sorry? I argued with you?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, it is, but—” He scratches his head. “I wanted you to eat. You were arguing, and it made me wonder if I could—”
“Oh. My.” Swallowing, I groan and walk away, needing space. Halfway across the kitchen, I turn back. “You arrogant angel. You think you can order me to eat and sit and stay. That I won’t ask questions? Do you want me to blush and giggle while following you around like the other girls do?”
Breckin’s shoulders shake as his lips quirk.
“Are you laughing at me?” I ask, the urge to punch him strong.
His face goes blank.
“Don’t ever try it again, Breckin,” I order, nearly stomping my foot.
“I won’t. I promise. I would never try to control you, Vivie. I was curious if it were possible. Since erasing your mind didn’t work.”
“I mean it, never again. It’s horrible. Like spiders crawling around in my mind. Sebastian did it, too. I hate it.”
Breckin stiffens. “Sebastian was in your head? When?”
His tone kills my anger. “Saturday night. I don’t know if he was in my head, but it felt the same.”
He pulls his cell from his pocket, holding up a finger when I ask what he’s doing. Tugging on my sleeves, I fold my arms across my chest and wait.
“We need you.” His eyes stay on mine as he nods. “Nope. She remembers everything.” There’s a pause as he listens to the person on the other end of the line. “Okay. Yeah.” After a few vague, one-word answers, the call ends, and he sets his cell on the counter. “Can you stay for dinner?”
“If I say no, will you try to force me?”
He blows out his cheeks. “No, Viv. I’ll never try to compel you again.”
“Damn straight you won’t.” Breckin cracks a smile. “Of course I’ll stay. He’s coming?”
“He is, in about two hours.”
My pulse kicks up a notch, my nerves fluttering to life. Breckin pushes the stool I kicked back to the counter and comes toward me. His hand touches the bottom edge of my sweater, tugging it. I take a step toward him as he takes another toward me.
“I’m truly sorry.” His hand brushes my cheek as it wraps around my head. “I know this is a horrible excuse, but . . . everything feels different with you. It’s new territory. My curiosity got the best of me.”
I hook a finger through his belt loop and pull us closer still.
“Different how?” My voice is husky and broken. My soul, or whatever it is within me that seems to want him, flutters.
“I’ve compelled humans before, to forget what they saw, or to get what I want.” I frown, and he grimaces. “It’s easy with them. A touch or a look and a thought, and they do what I need. You don’t work that way. My abilities don’t work on you at all. It’s . . .”