Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 133191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Like when you turned the lights on in the hotel room yesterday?”
“Exactly. Obviously, my parents knew something was up, to put it mildly. Dad didn’t even consider the idea I wasn’t his. He trusted my mom completely. Plus, there’s no denying I’m his child.”
Conall looked at her again and she was smiling softly. His gaze dropped to her mouth before moving back to the road.
“I have his dark hair, his eyes, and his smile. My mom was a redhead.”
“So was mine.” Conall smiled in memory. “As is Callie.”
“I, um … I’ve seen a picture.”
“How?”
Her expression was sheepish. “When I stole money out of your wallet.”
“Oh, aye.” He grunted. “That time you broke my neck.”
“It could have been worse.”
His reply was dry. “I’m aware of that.”
Thea smirked, but her smile fell. “My parents started researching and Dad soon began to realize that there was this whole other world around us. And like I said, as I got older my parents taught me to hide my strength, to control it. They absolutely forbade me to use any of the mind stuff. Moving things without touching them and manipulating what people saw.”
“But you can still do the latter. Why that and not the telekinesis, for lack of a better word?”
Thea seemed to take a breath before she confessed, “Because I didn’t stop using the mind trick.” Shame colored her words. “My only excuse is that I was a stupid kid. I used it on classmates, on teachers. I even used it after my parents died. I used it to make the authorities who found the plane crash think I had some injuries. I can’t remember waking up in the debris. Instead, one moment there was the dark of impact, the pain of fire, then the next I was outside the wreckage. Without a scratch on me. I was old enough to know that would raise more than eyebrows. So I made them see a cut forehead, a broken ankle, that kind of thing. I did the opposite with it too … like if I hurt myself and was healing too fast in front of a human, I’d make them see I was never hurt.
“It wasn’t until after Ashforth kept me in that room I realized how wrong it was to use it. He took away my freedom, my free will. And I realized that using my ability was the same thing. I was taking away someone’s control over their own mind.” She exhaled slowly. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
Something inside Conall’s chest seemed to expand at her confession.
Thea shifted in her seat like she was uncomfortable. “I’ve made it sound like my parents were ashamed of what I was, but they never meant to make me feel that way. They were just trying to protect me.”
“If they researched you, do you think they knew what you are?”
“Yes,” she admitted, drawing his surprised gaze. Her eyes were bright with regret and grief. “I think they did. When I was a kid, there were times I’d get upset about being different. I just wanted to be normal.”
“Understandable.” Conall couldn’t imagine growing up without people like himself around. “Your parents were human. If you’d grown up in a pack, you would never have felt ‘other.’ You would have been accepted. Not that I’m saying your parents didnae accept you.”
“No, I get you. And you’re right. I wanted to be like my parents, to be human. Once when I was twelve, not too long before … before they died … I pushed a friend out of the way of a stray baseball. It would have knocked her out. It came at us with such a force, so I took the hit, knowing it would barely hurt. There were too many witnesses from the game to mess with their minds about it. And the school made a huge fuss and my dad got mad at me. He said that no matter what, I couldn’t step in to save other people from bad things because it would only expose me, and people would come to take me away.”
Her voice grew hollow, flat. “I cried so much because I hated that I couldn’t even save my friend without being told not to be myself. They hated seeing me in pain and that night, my mom told me something I’ve thought a lot on over the years.
“She said that when I turned eighteen and I was old enough to make my own decisions, I’d have the opportunity to learn about who I really was, and when I had that information, it would be up to me how I used it. It would be up to me to make the right choice about my abilities. I didn’t know what she meant then …”
“They knew,” Conall answered decisively. “They discovered what you are, Thea.”