Unravelled. Gena Showalter
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Everyone assumed he had schizophrenia because he talked to the souls trapped inside him, which had earned him a lifetime of institutions and medications. The ranch was the system’s final effort to save him, and if he blew that chance, he’d be carted away. Boom, done, goodbye. Hello, lifetime of confinement in a padded room.
He’d lose Victoria forever.
“Shut your mouth, Stephanie, before I do it for you. Vlad taught us to survive, and kept the humans unaware of us—for the most part. He made us a legend, a myth. He also taught our enemies to fear us. For that alone, he has my respect.” The blue-eyed sister—Lauren; her name was Lauren—tilted her head to the side, suddenly pensive. “Now. What are we going to do about the mortal while our fourteen-day reprieve is ticking away?”
“Victoria’s…Aden?” Stephanie’s brow wrinkled. “That’s his name, right? ”
“Haden Stone, known by his people as Aden, yes,” Victoria replied. “But I—”
“We’ll follow his rule,” a male voice said, cutting her off. “Because, and stop me if you’ve heard this one, he’s our ruler.” This came from Riley, a werewolf shape-shifter and Victoria’s most trusted guard, as he approached the half-circle the girls formed. He glared at Lauren. “If you don’t understand that, let me know and I’ll break out the hand puppets. He killed Dmitri, he calls the shots. End of story.”
Lauren scowled at him, her fangs sharper than before. “Watch how you speak to me, puppy. I’m a princess. You’re just the hired help.” More gasps reverberated.
Aden kept losing sight of the crowd, but they suddenly filled his line of vision as Victoria studied them, ready to leap into action if someone attacked her sister. Clearly they didn’t like that the wolf had been insulted. But then, neither did she. Wolves deserved respect—far more than what had been demanded even for Vlad. Wolves could—
Aden cursed as Victoria blanked her mind, forcing herself to concentrate on what was happening around her. Wolves were more important than vampires? he wondered. More important than vampire royalty?
Why?
Riley laughed with genuine humor. “Your jealousy is showing, Lore. I’d be careful if I were you.”
Lauren ignored him this time, swinging her crystal eyes back to Victoria and snapping, “Bring Aden here tomorrow night. Everyone will meet him.
Officially.”
And kill him before the fourteen days “ticked away? ”
“Yes.” Victoria nodded, but not by word or deed did she reveal her sudden trepidation. “All right. Tomorrow, you shall meet your new king. In the meantime, we shall mourn.”
The conversation ended, everyone properly chastised.
Victoria sighed and peered over at the body of her father. Which meant Aden peered over at her father. He considered the charred remains, speculating about what the king had looked like before. Tall and strong, surely. Had he possessed blue eyes like Victoria? Or green like Stephanie?
Vlad’s fingers curled into a fist.
Aden stilled, sure he’d just hallucinated. And he must have, he rationalized, because Victoria had not seemed to notice the earth-shattering event and he’d watched through her eyes. Vlad’s fingers uncurled.
Once again, Aden stilled, waiting, gauging, heart thumping against his ribs. He hadn’t imagined that. He couldn’t have imagined that because even as the thought formed, those fingers twitched as if trying to make another fist. Movement, true movement, and movement equaled life. Right?
Why hadn’t Victoria noticed? Why hadn’t anyone? Maybe they were too lost to their grief. Or maybe Vlad’s once-immortal body was simply expelling the last hints of his existence. Either way, Victoria needed to be told what he’d seen.
Victoria, Aden projected, desperate to gain her attention.
Nothing. No response.
Victoria!
She petted Vlad’s arm before rising, intending to instruct the biggest of the vampires to carry him inside for burial preparation. Obviously, she didn’t hear him.
And then it was too late. His world shifted, realigned, darkness closing in around him. No, not darkness. Light. So much light. Blue-white flames covered Dmitri’s entire body, and therefore Aden’s body. Scorching him, blistering what was left of him.
This time, Aden did scream.
He did thrash.
He also died.
ONE
MARY ANN GRAY STUDIED HERSELF in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Makeup—light and unsmeared. Dark hair—not a tangle. Perhaps even, dare she think it? Silky. Clothes—an unwrinkled lacy T-shirt and clean skinny jeans. Shoes—hiking boots. She’d replaced the plain white laces with thick pink ones, giving them a feminine flair.
Okay, then. She was officially ready.
Breathing deeply, shaking a little, she gathered her books, stuffed them into her backpack, swung that pack over her shoulder and headed downstairs toward the kitchen. Where her dad was waiting. With breakfast she would be required to eat.
Her stomach churned in protest. She’d have to fakeeat because she doubted she would be able to keep a single bite down. She was simply too knotted with nerves.
From the living room, she heard pans clattering, water pounding into the sink and a man sighing in…defeat?
She stopped just before snaking the final corner and leaned her shoulder against the wall, losing herself to her thoughts. A few weeks ago, she and her dad had entered new territory. Ugly, deceitful territory. We’ll always be honest with each other, he used to tell her. All. The. Time. Of course, at the same time, he’d been feeding her lies about her birth mother. The woman who had raised her had not given birth to her, but had in fact been her aunt.
In truth, her real mother had possessed the ability to time-travel into younger versions of herself, yet he’d refused to believe her, had considered her unstable. She couldn’t prove otherwise, either, because she was dead and her spirit had moved on. Lost to Mary Ann forever.
God, the loss still hurt.
Mary Ann had gotten to spend one day with her. One amazing, wonderful day because Eve, her mother, had been one of the souls trapped inside her friend Aden’s head. Then, boom. Eve was gone.
Tears burned Mary Ann’s eyes as she remembered their parting, but she blinked them back. She couldn’t allow herself to cry. Her mascara would run, and then she’d look like a domestic abuse victim when Riley arrived to pick her up.
Riley.
My boyfriend. Yes, she’d think about him instead, looking forward to the future rather than wallowing in the past. Her lips even curled into a small smile as her heart raced uncontrollably.