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Chapter Four
publish date:
2026-05-18 04:05:20
Latest chapter
Intercrossed Chapter Six
The drive back to Gaston's place is quiet. He barely speaks, let alone acknowledges my presence. For once, I appreciate the silence. My head is still spinning, and I'm positive I'll hurl at any moment. “Thank you.” I wave my hand. “Don't mention it.” “I'm sorry you have to go out with Phantom, but I appreciate what you did for me—for Vahlia. We both owe you big.” I shake my head to say no, regretting the move when it causes bile to rise to my throat. “Are you okay?” He must have noticed my face turning green. After taking a deep breath, I finally speak. “I’m fine, Gaston, and you don't owe me anything. I’m doing you a favor because I know what it's like to be separated from the one you love without getting the chance to say goodbye. A friend of mine just went through that.” He nods in understanding. “Does that mean you have someone back in California waiting for you?”I stifle a laugh. “No, not even close. I’m single.” My confession makes him grimace. “Do you have any special
Intercrossed Chapter Five
I come out of the bathroom, thankful Martha left my clothing from yesterday both steamed and smelling like fabric softener. The woman should be nominated for sainthood. I'd call the Vatican myself if I had their number. I'm positive I barfed on myself last night, but confirming it will cause me to die from embarrassment, so I won't. I step back into the room, and their bickering stops as their eyes land on me. Gaston has a smirk on his face, and Phantom looks peeved. “Tell this idiot you're not leaving with him. He seems to think you are.” Phantom glares at Gaston.“Well, that's because I am leaving with him.” “Like hell you are! I forbid it!”I give him the death glare, and it gives me a headache. Damned Edge potion! “I'm sorry. I think you have me mistaken for one of your subjects. So in case you haven't figured it out by now, I don't take orders from anyone.” Phantom huffs. “Um... Maryelle…” Gaston says, obviously still enjoying Phantom's irritation. “You are his subject, and he
Intercrossed Chapter Four
I wake up to the sound of what I can only imagine is a beaver gnawing at a tree outside. There's also a buzzing sound I quickly realize is coming from the inside of my head. My mouth feels as though it’s filled with cotton and dry sand. To top it off, I'm freezing. Shivers keep overtaking my body. I pull up the blanket someone placed over me, which swiftly makes me realize someone placed a blanket over me! Breathless after jumping out of someone's California king-sized bed, I notice I'm wearing a nightie. It's the color of cream-roses, feels like silk, and barely comes down to my knees. Okay, now I'm really freaking out. My stomach churns as I look around, trying to size up my surroundings. The entire room is painted in a vivid ocean-blue color accented by gold trim. There's a lit marble fireplace and a few pieces of vintage furniture tastefully scattered in the room: two chairs, a small table, and an antique chest. Since the chest is the only thing I see that may have clues to where
Intercrossed Chapter Three
In the club, the music pounds against the speakers like an angry woodpecker trying to demolish a tree. Al yells her order over the noise, and the bartender hands her two shots in return. She shoves one in my direction, and before I can decline, a guy jumps in front of me and shoves the glass filled with dark-gray liquid away. “She's not allowed to drink that,” he says to the bartender, who nods and reaches for the glass. I grab it before he does and turn to stare at the boy with the audacity to tell me what I can and cannot drink. I immediately recognize him. It’s the same guy Gaston fought earlier. Holy mother of all that is hot! The boy—excuse me, man—in front of me looks even more gorgeous than he did earlier. Under the flickering lights, his face is chiseled to perfection, with a square jaw, high cheekbones, magnetic sapphire-blue eyes, and a set of full yet firm lips pressed into a tight line. I avoid staring at the muscular torso hiding behind the gray shirt and dark jeans he's
Intercrossed Chapter Two
The sun sets. Captivated, I watch its buttery haze disappear behind the clouds in pretty shades of blue, purple, and splotches of gold. It reminds me of the sunsets back home at Falls Quaker and briefly takes my mind off being stuck in Rome, Georgia. I glance at Al’s bed and wonder what the next few weeks hold for me. Al went for a run two hours ago. She hasn't come back yet. I dial Israfil’s number, and it rings at least five times before his voice booms on the line, asking me to leave a message he will return. I hang up and dial his number again. This time, an annoying woman’s robotic voice tells me my call is forwarded to voicemail. No, he did not! Did he just ignore my call? Fuming, I try again. The annoying robotic lady, who I now want to strangle as much as I want to strangle Israfil, repeats the same infuriating message. I’ll try him again later.If boredom could kill, I’d be digging a hole in the backyard where they could dump my body. I only brought a handful of clothes, so
Intercrossed Chapter One
“This is not Australia.”“You're a genius, Maryelle—too clever for the world,” my mother deadpans.“Mom, what the heck! You said we were going on a summer vacation. You were taking me to Australia and Rome. Again, I have to point out that this place looks like neither.” I hadn’t been suspicious when our plane landed in Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. But I grew wary when we exited the plane, and my mother walked me to the car rental kiosk instead of the next gate for our supposed connecting flight. It turns out the trips to Australia and Rome were nonexistent. No wonder the ticketing agent had looked at me crazy when I asked her if there were any dos and don'ts I should follow in the land of down under. It also explains the dirty look she gave me as she pulled on her skirt to cover more of her knees.We pull into the driveway of an old home. Really, calling it old is a compliment. The house is three trash bags away from being a dump. The building has a broken door,
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