"Excellent." When Nicholas says that, I realize what I've just done.
"Wait, no!" I say hastily, ripping my gaze away from Jeremy. Nicholas and my father were already shaking hands, sealing the deal. Dad has this thing that once you shake on a deal, you can't go back on your word. For me, that means that I'm out of luck.
"Errapel, we have a room just right for you," Nicholas says. "Mark, show him to the spare room on this floor." Mark nods obediently and gets up to escort Dad to his room.
That leaves Zach, Nicholas, Jeremy, and I alone. And it's making me uneasy. Especially since Zach and Jeremy's emotions are still screaming lust. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to resist the urge to turn back around and shout at them both.
"Emmy Lou-"
"Emmy," I cut Nicholas off, getting real tired of being called Emmy Lou.
"Right, Emmy," he corrects. "We'll need some time to prepare a room for you, so until then you can stay with Jeremy." My mouth goes dry at the thought. I'm not exactly sure if it's because the idea is appalling, or pleasurable.
I can't really argue with him, something is stopping me. I slowly came to the realization that that something is the tingles I feel on my shoulder, caused by none other than Jeremy's hand resting gingerly there.
My whole body goes stiff as the tingles spread down my spine, involuntarily making me shudder in something close to pleasure.
"Come on, I'll show you where our room is," Jeremy says from behind me. Our room. That statement, although completely absurd, makes my legs feel like jelly. I don't stand up for a moment in fear that I will just collapse. Nicholas is watching with interest behind his desk, what I think is a smirk faintly on his lips.
I shake my head to snap out of this daze, before standing up. My legs manage to hold my weight, that is until I feel Jeremy's hand on the small of my back. Part of my brain--the logical part--screams at me to get his hand off me, while another part told me to get closer. Against both, I remain where I am, allowing him to keep his hand on my back, but refusing to get any closer. He guides me out the door and through the halls like this, my mind and heart going a million miles a minute.
We stop in front of a dark oak door, and Jeremy twists the knob and ushers me in.
If I didn't know better, I would question if it is actually his room. It seems so plain, and clean, for a teenage boy's room. Then again, what do I know about teenage boy's rooms?
The walls are a plain white, the only alteration to them being a few pictures hanging up. The bed is covered with a black comforter and plain white pillowcases, the entire bed big enough for two. There's a large dark wood desk against the wall to my right, covered with scattered papers and an orange mesh backpack slung on the back of the chair. A matching chest sits opposite of it to my left, right next to two doors I assume lead to a closet and bathroom.
"It's nice," I say, not really knowing what else to say.
He shrugs as if to say 'eh', and before I know it, he has both his hands on my hips, forcing me to face him. My breath catches in my throat at the sudden movement, and my heart rate increases as I realize that we are suddenly much closer, maybe a little too close.
"So, Emmy," he start, his voice almost a whisper as he looks down at me with those magnificent golden brown eyes of his. "Why did you run from me earlier?"
His question has me taken aback for a second. I didn't really think he would bring it up. I mean, it wasn't technically considered 'running away', because I'm still here.
"I-I, I didn't?" I try lamely.
He frowns. "I think you did."
"I went into the room by us, trying to find some shoes?" Someone write this in the history books; Emmy is lying. I've never told a single lie in my life, and now I can see why. I'm terrible at it. Why I'm lying to him, I'm not so sure. For some reason, he seems a bit hurt by the idea of me running from him, and I don't like it.
He looks down at my feet as if to confirm my story. "Why were you walking through the woods barefoot in the first place?"
I couldn't conjure up an even remotely believable excuse. However, I welcomed the change in subject.
"Why weren't you? It's a lovely day out."
His eyebrows furrow together, and I can't help but to think he looks adorably confused. "You could have stepped on something and hurt yourself."
I roll my eyes at his concern, but inside me my heart flutters. "I didn't though. I could have just had Zach carry me I suppose, but I felt like walking."
He surprises me by the growl-like sound that escapes his lips. I try to take a step back, but he pulls me closer than before to the point that our bodies are touching. Even though I know I shouldn't, I love the feeling of it.
"I would have ripped Zach's hands off if he had," he mutters, and I'm not sure if I was meant to hear that or not. Nevertheless, I did, and my eyebrows shoot up.
"A little rash, don't you think?" I ask, all the while thinking about how extreme him and Nicholas both are--death penalty for trespassing, seriously? I wonder why in the world Jeremy cares about me getting a little lift from Zach anyways. Certainly, it isn't protocol to want to rip someone's hands off for carrying a strange girl who was found in the woods. I could be mistaken though.
He looks back down at me, his eyes a little darker than the gold color I've already strangely become accustomed to. They soften when they land on me though.
"Not at all. I don't want anyone touching you like that," he says possessively, his hands removing themselves from my waist to wrap around my body, keeping me hostage against him. I don't really fight it, mostly because I know I would be fighting a losing battle.
"As if you have a say?" I scoff. "I'll have you know, I'm perfectly capable of making those decisions. You're lucky I'm not fighting you for this right now." I pat his hands that are on my hips.
He looks me straight in the eyes and raises a brow. "Why aren't you?"
My mouth feels like someone stuffed cotton in it as he asks that. Why wasn't I fighting him right now? It felt...right, being like this, though I didn't appreciate the challenge. All I could do is stare in bewilderment.
"Emmy Lou, I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but every werewolf has a mate," he says. He leans down slightly so his lips are right next to my ear, his warm breath fanning down my neck. This causes me to shiver once again. "And you are mine," he whispers.
My breathing becomes rather erratic when he plants his soft lips right below my ear. He doesn't make any move to actually give me a proper kiss, and as soon as I come to my senses, I'll be thankful for that.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. I meet his eyes, before shaking my head and taking a step back. He removes his arms from around me, giving me the chance to.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe you," I say. He looks like I had just delivered a blow to his face, and I had to push away the urge to comfort him and erase any hurt. Because that's exactly what I could sense him feeling.
I couldn't be his mate. Soul mates are very much real, for werewolves and humans alike. However, your soul mate is decided before you're even born. And the thing is, angels don't have soul mates. Jeremy is older than I am, meaning his mate was decided well before I came along. I wasn't even supposed to be born, so how could I possibly be his mate?
"You're going to have to. I have never been so sure about anything in my life, and whether you like it or not, you're my mate," he says after a moment of silence passes between us.
I shake my head again. Now, I understand what's happening; he's mistaking some intense feelings for me. Soul mates are the only people who can bring out such strong feelings of love and lust in you. And being an angel, it's natural for people's feelings towards me to be a bit more extreme. He's just mixing them up. Once he meets his mate, he'll realize it.
"I hate being the bearer of bad news, but you're wrong," I say. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, giving him a tight smile. "Don't worry though, you'll find her."
He stares at me in disbelief. There's an awkward silence between us after that. He looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it each time. Me? I realize I've kept my hand on his shoulder longer than necessary. After awkwardly clearing my throat, I pull my hand away and take a step back.
"Now that we have that covered," I mumble, "What exactly are the sleeping arrangements?"
He blinks a few times, before shaking his head. I want to say that he came to his senses and realized I was right, but his expression portrays hurt. He seriously thinks I'm his soul mate.
"I'll sleep on the floor," he mutters.
"Oh no, that won't be necessary, you can have the bed," I say. You see, angels don't sleep. Or eat. Yeah, that'll be fun to explain later, but whatever. Heaven is one thing all the time: day. There is no need to sleep, and there is no need to eat. Therefore, it won't be necessary for him to take the floor when I'm not even going to use the bed. "I meant what time do you go to sleep."
His frown deepens. "I'm not making you sleep on the floor."
"I'm not taking your bed from you," I protest. "Besides, I'm not all that tired. You'll probably be asleep well before me." Way before me, I add in my head.
"I don't mind," he says, ignoring my further protests as he goes into his closet and comes out with a few blankets and pillows. I try stopping him from creating a bed on the floor, but the boy has an amazingly stubborn will and studiously works around my gripes.
By the time he's done, I'm standing next to the blankets, scowling with my arms crossed.
"It's not even night time yet," I point out, pointing to the window where the setting sun is just peeking through the white curtains.
"Well it will be ready then," he shrugs.
I debate just picking it all up myself and forcing him to sleep in his own bed. Deciding to drop the complaints, for now, I run a hand through my hair and sigh.
"I'm going to go speak to my father," I say, before stepping out of the room. I half expect him to follow me, and am mildly disappointed when he doesn't. Stop it Emmy, I scold myself as the thought crosses my mind.
I need to talk to Dad about what we've gotten ourselves into. I'm sure he'll be able to help me decide what to do with my new delusional roommate.
It turns out that my sense of direction isn't the most stellar, because I end up lost in the maze of hallways without a clue as to where I am. I've passed a few people, but didn't really bother asking. I'm not sure if they're aware of us taking residence in this house anyway.
After knocking on yet another wrong door, I give up and just ask Dad where he is at. He tells me he is in his room, located on the third floor down the hall from Nicholas' office. That information would have been helpful, if I knew how to get there from my current position.
Sighing, I try retracing my steps, which only causes me to bump into someone. I look up to see Laney, the girl from the kitchen.
"Whoa. You must be the new girl everyone's talking about," she says.
"I must be," I shrug awkwardly.
"Emmy, right?"
"Yes. And you're Laney?"
"Yeah... how did you know that?"
I try to keep the smile hidden from my face. "You look like a Laney."
She tilts her head to the side a bit, staring at me quizzically. "You're not a werewolf," she states matter-of-factly.
"No, I'm not."
"What are you? Your scent is so... weird. Like, sugar and sunshine weird."
"Can you help me find my Dad's room?" I ask, changing the topic. "Just lead me to the room that smells like me, I guess."
She scrutinizes me for a minute longer, and I scratch the back of my neck in discomfort. Well, at least I know I don't smell completely gross to these werewolves. Sugar and sunshine, how lovely.
Finally, she nods and beckons me with her hand to follow her. I obediently do, trying to pay close attention to how we're getting there for future reference. It's next to useless; since she's taking me in circles in this labyrinth they call a house.
Finally, she stops outside a door.
"Here it is, sugar and sunshine just exploding within," she says.
"Thank you so much," I say gratefully, grabbing onto the door handle to let myself in.
"Wait, can I ask what's up with your outfit?" she asks, making me pause.
"Oh, this old thing?" I ask, looking down at my white dress. I guess it does make me stand out some, and judging by the fact that no one is wearing anything similar, it's a bold fashion choice.
"Emphasis on the old. You look like you stepped out of the 1800s."
I look down at my dress again. It's simple, white, and silk, that flows down to my ankles and sleeves that hang delicately off my wrists. Nothing suggests that it's from a certain time period anyways.
"It was just the first thing I grabbed," I shrug, wanting to end this conversation.
"You're not some time traveler are you?" she asks, squinting her eyes at me and pointing an accusing finger. I smile, shaking my head.
"No, I'm not a time traveler." Not me at least. There is an angel whose gift is the ability to time travel, but it sure isn't me. I think that would be a fun gift though, or a useful one in my case.
Deciding the conversation is over, I wave to her and open the door to my dad's room, closing it quickly behind me. Like Dad was waiting for me, he's sat in a big leather chair in the back of the room, his hands folded on his lap as he casually leans back in the chair.
"Did you get lost?" he asks, smiling slightly.
"A little bit..." I admit sheepishly, before throwing myself down on his bed with a dramatic sigh. "Settling in well?"
"Yes, it's lovely here," he says. "And you?"
I turn my head to look at him, an incredulous look on my face. "How do you think I'm settling in? I'm stuck in a room with a boy who's convinced we're soul mates," I say. "And by the way, what dad lets his teenage daughter stay in the same room as a teenage boy?"
At this, Dad's eyebrows raise up his forehead, but not for the last part like I would have expected. "Soulmates, huh?"
"Yes," I nod in confirmation. "Crazy right?"
He shrugs. "Is he sure?"
My brows furrow together. "He seems pretty positive, but we both know that it isn't true."
He shrugs again, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. "It could be."
I stare at him in disbelief. Of course, it can't be. I shouldn't have to explain this to him, he's been around since... well, the beginning of time. He should know this by now. Unless I was given false information, which I'm sure I wasn't.
"Please, elaborate."
"Well, Emmy, you are half-human. It could be possible. And he's genetically engineered to be able to sense his mate beyond a reasonable doubt. If he says you're his mate, and he's sure, it's probably true."
I open my mouth to retort, but I realize I can't argue with his logic. Though I still don't think it's possible, I can't say he doesn't have some valid points. So, yes, I'm half-human, technically. That technicality is because my mother wasn't human when she conceived me. She was a spirit. So, does that make me half-angel, half-spirit?
"Ok, but I wasn't supposed to be born, and Jeremy's mate would have been chosen long before I was. He's two years older than me, so his mate was chosen even before then."
"Very true," he says, nodding. "But, then again, sometimes mates aren't chosen until well after they're born. They can't detect mates until they're sixteen, so there's plenty of time to choose a suitable one."
"But, that would mean us being kicked out was planned," I counter, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.
"Or, it could mean that it was planned that he would be coming to you. Things just didn't work out that way."
My heart clenches as the words leave his mouth. I don't know why either. If all of this is true, that I am Jeremy's soul mate, then he would have had to die just to be with me? The thought of him dead has an unpleasant effect on me, leaving a queasy feeling in my stomach.
"So, you're saying if we hadn't been kicked out, he would be dead?"
He nods, and the smile that appears on his face confuses me to no extent. Why in the world is that something to smile about? "And with how you're feeling about that, you still doubt that you two are soul mates?"
Again, he does have another valid point. Why would I feel like this for any random person? I might feel some sort of sadness at the thought, but I wouldn't be physically sick. That has to mean something, right? Still, the idea is too much to wrap my head around. A day ago, I was confident my place was in Heaven, not having to worry about anything and living a care-free eternity. Now, I'm not so sure that was my place.
What if my place is right here, right next to Jeremy?
Still, it doesn't make sense.
I clutch my forehead, feeling confused at all these thoughts.
"Just take some time to think about it," Dad says, laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I'll be here if you need to talk."
"Thanks," I smile gratefully. Then, heaving a sigh, I sit up and start playing with the hem of my dress. "Do you think that... maybe we should get new clothes? I think people are starting to wonder why you're in a dress."
*
Surprisingly, Nicholas let us out of the house without so much as someone to keep an eye on us. I guess Dad's word must be really trustworthy. I mean, not that it isn't, because he's probably the most honest man on this planet, but I can't say the same for me. I'm half-human; I still have my human flaws.
I'm not going anywhere though. I debated it for the briefest second. I wouldn't run away, I would just leave to clear my head and come back when I felt like it. Dad was in my head at the time though, and quickly rebutted the idea.
So now I'm walking by my dad's side, toting around three massive shopping bags. Nicholas told us to stop at one particular store, so we did. The lady there took our measurements and before I knew it, had three bags for both of us full of clothes our size. We didn't even have to pay, she said it was the least she could do for 'our new members'.
I guess Nicholas had paid for us, and I made a mental note to thank him later. It made the shopping trip a short one, but that I was thankful for. There were just too many people with their eyes trained on us. I really need to know how Dad puts up with it. He just goes along with his business, as if unaware of all the stares.
You would think people would have gotten the 'it's not polite to stare' memo.
We chose to walk to the shops, so I could prolong our trip and clear my head, but mostly because neither of us was a licensed driver.
Our walk has been silent, my mind reeling with thoughts. Dad is either thinking as well, or tapping into my head. His quiet chuckle from next to me confirms that it's the latter.
Privacy is certainly something neither of us has.
At least I'm respectful and don't listen into your thoughts without permission, I say in a scolding tone.
Sorry, just trying to keep up with you to be helpful later, he responds, the humor evident in his tone and on his features at my displeasure.
I'm almost positive I can block him out of my mind--or attempt to, since I've never really used that special little advantage. I'm sure he would be able to get through to my mind easily, so I don't even bother. I turn my thoughts to the beautiful foliage surrounding us on both sides instead, to banish the thoughts of the issue that is Jeremy.
The bright greens of the plants are one thing that I have always admired from up in Heaven. The contrast against the bright blue sky, and the magnificent hues of the flowers that grow in abundance always draw me in. I found myself staring at those most of the time while up in Heaven. The greenery in Heaven was much more beautiful, I couldn't argue with that, but there was something about it on Earth that was more appealing.
And now I can smell the freshness that accompanies it. I take in a deep breath, enjoying the smells that wash over me. Sweet, wholesome, and pure.
Sadly, our walk comes to an end as the shadow of the massive house looms over the sidewalk. Someone opens the gates for us, with a respectful bow of their heads, and I walk through the gates for the third time today. Thankfully, everyone has gotten over the initial shock of us.
The front doors open immediately, Jeremy standing there to greet me, relief washing over his face.
"Here, let me get those for you," he offers, taking the bags from my hands gently before I can even protest.
"Um, thank you," I say, and he gives me a heart-melting smile in return.
That looks like the face of a boy who's sure to me, Dad says to me, and I look up to see him looking over at Jeremy, then back to me with an eyebrow slightly raised.
Maybe it's the face of a boy who loves helping people, I counter, before going to follow Jeremy with my bags.
As you can see, I haven't come to a conclusion on what I believe. Tonight though, I expect that I'll have plenty of time to think. While everyone is asleep and I'm lying awake, I'll be up just thinking. And who knows what I'll decide during that time.