The Soul Mate by Madeline Sheehan Page A

arm.
Realizing what was happening, he tightened his grip as it was about
to slide past my wrist. With one hard pull he yanked me down with
him. I fell in an unceremonious sprawl on top of him.
    “Who showed you how to do a roundhouse?” He
gasped.
    I giggled. “Marko.”
    He flipped me over, pinning me underneath his
massive body, bringing me face to face with the cynical curve of
his lips, the sharp pull of his cheekbones and the exotic slant of
his dark alluring eyes.
    My pulse quickened.
    My mouth dried.
    My body heated.
    And none of it was magically induced.
    I pushed at his chest suddenly terrified of
what was happening to me. “Get off me!”
    “And if I don’t?” He asked, his tone
nonchalant.
    I might turn to Jell-O. “I’ll scream.”
    He laughed, the sound deep and throaty and
full of pure masculine dominance, daring me to scream as loud as I
liked. “Afraid I might try and kiss you again fată?”
    Oh Goddesses.
    I licked my lips. “Pp...Please don’t.”
    His grip on my biceps flexed. His mouth
thinned.
    “Right.” He jumped up and offered me a hand,
lifting me to my feet. “I had forgotten how horrible it was.”
    Actually, I’d been so caught up in my
reaction to Xan that I’d forgotten how awful that kiss had been.
I’d never before experienced the conscious desire of wanting
someone. Not really, not like this. With Gerik I always felt like
I’d suddenly ran right into a brick wall of lust. This was the
opposite, softer, giving me time to access my feelings.
    This must have been what other girls had been
acting so freakishly crazy about my entire life; the reason for
their obsessive behavior about hair and makeup and finding the
perfect outfit. Now their endless conversations about boys, boys
and more boys that I could never seem to find any interest in, made
perfect sense.
    My stomach did a funny little tap dance and I
had a fleeting worry about my own hair.
    “So…” Xan began, “How about some live
rounds?”
    I looked up, surprised.
    “Gotcha!” He said and took off running.
    “Xan!” I screamed, running after him. “I’m so
going to kill you!”
    He grinned over his shoulder, “That would
mean you have to catch me first!”
    If I’d had to guess at how long it was going
to take Gerik to show his face and beg forgiveness from me for
being a man-whore, I’d of said a day or two. I’d based this guess
on how’d he’d never before been able to leave me in peace for more
than a few hours at a time.
    I’d never of guessed he’d actually avoid me
for almost two entire weeks.
    I had just settled down near a low burning
fire for reading hour with Alana’s three little ones, Adi, Daniella
and little Benyamin Jr. Hockey’s little sister, Simza, and the
Moldoveanu twin’s Pali and Mala. We were reading one of Maisera’s
books, an older version of Grimms’ Fairy Tales, the leather bound
cover cracked and worn.
    “Can we talk?” Gerik asked, interrupting the
woodsman’s assault on Snow White.
    “I’m busy.”
    “I’ll wait, yeah?”
    “I’ll be awhile.”
    “Trinity,” He pleaded with me. I looked up at
him, noticing the small black and blue marks on his neck. From
Onyx. Jealously, immediately followed by anger, flooded me. I
couldn’t take much more of this. Here he was, more than likely
wanting to talk me back into our dysfunctional relationship when he
was wearing physical evidence from his other one.
    In the end it was the tired, defeated look
about him, the fact that his hair wasn’t braided and the dark
circles under his eyes, that did me in.
    Despite my anger and all my confusion about
us, seeing him hurting, hurt me. I nodded my answer and continued
reading. And reading. I read until most of the children had gotten
bored and wandered off. Gerik had to have known that I was
intentionally making him wait as long as possibly but he didn’t say
a word. He continued to sit patiently as I read story after story
until Alana came by to pick up Benyamin Jr., who was