Home > Dark Surrender (The Dark Ones Saga #3)(5)

Dark Surrender (The Dark Ones Saga #3)(5)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Dirt caked my nails.

Still hot, I took a deep breath just as the hooded figure walked in.

Dark leather pants wrapped around his muscular thighs. I sucked in a breath but only managed to get hotter as oxygen failed to enter into my body.

It was him.

The bad one.

Well, really, the good one.

Too good.

The type of good you stare at until your eyes start to cross and your heart threatens to thump out of your chest. Or the way chocolate tastes as it melts across your tongue only to attach its calorie fest to your thighs later.

Crap, I thought of thighs.

A visual of his thighs.

My thighs.

Everyone’s thighs.

Came into view.

Though mine were larger than the girls next to me.

I winced. Yeah, larger by a long shot.

Again, it was like standing next to two pixie fairies. Both had elf-like features with blonde hair that matched the wisps of white I saw escaping from underneath his hood.

Another whimper was emitted from the girl to my left as she swayed toward him. More sweat dripped down my spine, making a lovely trail down the back of my plain black leggings.

“You.” His voice was intoxicating, like I’d never heard the word you before and was just now being given the pleasure of hearing it for the first time. Gulping, I took a step back, because something told me stepping forward would be a bad idea.

“Me?” Both girls answered swaying toward him.

The hood still covered half of his face, his smile unleashed a whole flutter of excitement from the girls who started to pant next to me.

If that’s what he needed to get his rocks off, he was going to be seriously disappointed.

I was too hot to be hot and bothered, if that made sense.

My knees were about ready to buckle.

I had sweat — everywhere.

I just wanted to sit down with a nice cold drink of water.

“Dance,” he whispered.

Both girls immediately moved around the room, leaping into the air in perfect ballerina like form. Was that part of the human training now? Dance lessons?

“Cry.” He didn’t move, just crossed his arms while they both burst into tears, eventually sobbing against one another. Either they were really good actresses, or he was just that powerful.

Which begged the question.

What was wrong with me?

“Indeed.” Alex mused. “What is wrong with you?” His blue eyes flashed as he glanced at my dirty flip-flops and slowly raised his gaze to meet mine. A look of disgust marred his near perfect features. “Other than the obvious, I mean.”

“The obvious?” I repeated. “I’m sorry I don’t—”

“Oh, believe me, I know you don’t understand. How could you?”

The girls continued to sob, while I held the immortal Siren’s pissed off glare; his icy blue eyes refused to look away.

I felt naked.

And afraid.

Only I’d take the TV show over what he was currently doing. It almost felt like he was… searching.

Me.

Inside my head.

“Stop that,” I snapped. “It feels funny.”

His eyes widened. “What did you just do?”

I shrugged. “I told you to stop.”

“I’m an immortal. I stop for no one.”

The heat in my body intensified until I felt like someone had set a fire near my feet and blown on it.

“Stop twitching,” he hissed.

“I’m really hot.” I swayed. “I can’t help it.” My vision blurred just as he braced me. “So hot.”

“Eh, I get that all day.”

“Me. I’m hot.”

“Slight exaggeration on your part.”

“Cry.” His eyes locked on mine once again.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to cry.”

“Laugh.”

“What is wrong with you?” I tried to jerk free, but the guy was a muscular demigod, or at least looked like one. Me struggling was probably as funny as watching a fly squirm in a spider’s web.

I accidently knocked his hood back as I pressed my fingertips to my forehead.

The girls behind me cried harder. “He’s so pretty!”

His smile widened and then disappeared altogether when he stared down at me. “Well? Don’t you agree? Aren’t I pretty?”

The way he twisted the words, made it sound like an insult. To call him pretty. And the last thing I wanted to do was die.

I mean I had plants to water.

My life sucked.

But it was still my life.

And as soon as I saved enough money for college, I was going to live it.

“I uh, no.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Did you just say… no?”

“I think so, yes. No. That depends.”

He held up his hand. “Leave us.”

I tried to walk away, but he held me firm in his grip as both girls sobbed and left the room, shutting the large oak door behind them.

A lock clicked, my heart dropped to my stomach.

“I’m Alex.” He still wasn’t releasing me.

“I figured.”

“How so?”

“You’re the last of the last male sirens.”

“And I’m not pretty?” Was he seriously that vain?

“Honestly?”

“Please.”

I took a deep breath. Good-bye, college. Good-bye, life. Air. Breathing. “When I think of pretty, I think of a flower or the sunset. Pretty is feminine. It speaks of things you’re told not to touch and places you see in a book.” I took a deep breath. “So no, I can’t say you’re pretty. But I can say you’re dangerously beautiful, the type of beautiful that hits a person in layers over and over again until every sense is assaulted with everything — you. Pretty wouldn’t do a siren justice, now, would it?”

   
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