Bound by Prophecy (Descendants Series) - By Melissa Wright Page 0,29
glass surrounds custom and one of a kind. I shook my head and tossed my dirty shirt onto the counter.
As I reached for the faucet, I noticed the skin of my forearm appeared too smooth. It had, only a short time ago, still bore the raised pink lines of a jagged half-healed cut. But now, without sleep, the wound was all but gone. I squinted against the dim mood lighting in the shower room, and drew the arm closer. And then I winced, because my shoulder had apparently not had time to heal. I rubbed a hand over my face and turned the shower on full and hot before dropping both arms to tilt my head back and just stand there in the spray.
It must have been an hour later when I finally lay down. I had come out of the shower to find sandwiches and hot tea waiting on the bureau, as well as a clean set of clothes. I had pulled the jeans on while I ate, and then fell into bed, shirtless and sock-footed, to at last get the sleep I needed for my shoulder to heal.
So I was feeling better by the time movement in my room woke me. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know it was Emily.
I lay on top of a satin duvet, not having bothered with removing the mass of pillows at the head of the bed, face down with one arm slung over the side. She leaned over, holding her breath as she scrutinized the results of her handiwork on my arm. But the wounds would be undetectable by now.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people while they’re sleeping,” I said, snatching her wrist as she gasped and tried to jerk back from me.
She froze, free hand pressed to her heaving chest, and stared at me, wide-eyed. I pulled her closer. “What are you doing, Emily?”
She swallowed. “I was just… Sorry, I’ll go.”
I dragged her arm with me as I rolled to my back, forcing her to either perch awkwardly on the edge of the bed, or climb over me and stay. She chose the latter, carefully stepping clear of me to sit cross-legged by my hip.
“Where’s Brianna?” I asked.
“Asleep.”
“And you weren’t tired?”
Emily bit her lip. “I can’t really sleep.” She glanced down at my bare torso, then quickly away, scanning the room for anything else to look at.
I released her arm. And then, recalling what Brianna had said at their reunion, asked, “You don’t sleep much?”
“Hardly ever,” she said, eyes coming back to me as I lay so similarly to the way I had in the hotel when she’d settled into my chest and slept through the night. “I’ve never been able to, not for more than an hour or so at a time.”
Surely that had nothing to do with her mother training her to keep watch over her sister, telling her someone was after her, that she had to keep her safe.
But it was true, wasn’t it?
“How is she?” I asked.
The corner of her mouth raised in a half-smile. “Brianna’s fine. She’s always fine.” Emily twisted her hands together. “I just feel better seeing her, knowing she’s safe.”
“Emily,” I said, “will anyone be looking for you?”
“You mean like our foster parents? No, no, I don’t think we’ll be missed. He’ll get pretty worked up about his car, but he won’t risk calling the law or losing his credibility with the system.” She rubbed a hand absently up her arm. “Besides, if he even reports it to the agency, we’ll be eighteen next week. It’s not like they can do anything about it then.”
“Was it only him?”
“Yeah. His wife ran off a while back, but he never admitted it to anyone. Thought they’d take us, I guess. It was better that way anyhow. Brianna couldn’t stand to watch him hurt her.”
I bit down hard to keep from speaking. It was none of my business. None of my business.
Emily realized what she’d said. “He never touched us,” she promised. “I wouldn’t have let him. But he wasn’t a good man.” She pressed her lips together. “It was just that we couldn’t risk leaving, being separated. Not again. He stayed clear of Brianna, and I endured his words. So we could be together.” She shrugged. “It didn’t seem like that long to suffer.”
He was the least of her troubles now, and it was obvious she was done talking about it, so I moved on. “What about school?”