~Our Notion~

*First*

And I screamed. I screamed because Sylar wasn't the one who was frozen. The person on the ground was all ice, and had shattered when my force had hit her. The ice now had a dark blue-purple tint to it.

Holy mother of God—blood.

I had hit . . . Ashley.

As my scream died down, Sylar glared at me.

"You meant to kill her," Sylar growled. "You wanted her out of my life."

"No, Sylar!" I cried, sobbing as nausea kicked in. "She's my sister!"

Rachel stood behind me, limping as she patted my shoulder, Peter and Nathan stood next to me, shaking their heads as I was in hysterics.

Sylar stood up, his eyes narrowing as tears ran down his cheek with anger.

"You. Killed. Her."

"Not on purpose . . . I really . . ." I stuttered on my words as my eyes wandered to Ashley's face, eyes closed and about to scream, her ring on the ground beside her.

"She's telling the truth, Sylar," Rachel said, staring at him.

My heart sank as I kept looking at Ashley, my eyes fixated on her, never moving. I killed her. Me. How?

My aim was perfect and Sylar knew it. So he'd think I purposely kill her for my own gain. I looked at Rachel .

Get him while he's still weak. I repeated.

"Sylar, she stepped in front of you," Rachel whispered. "Ashley sacrificed herself, not knowing about your bond."

"No," Sylar gasped.

"You know she did," Rachel repeated. "Stop denying the truth."

"No!" Sylar cried. "Vasanti killed Ashley! Vasanti did! You killed mother, now Ashley!"

I wiped away the overflowing tears, the betrayal stabbing me in the back as he talked about mom. I had killed too many. Who knows what I could do to my own friends—including the one I loved? I looked around at them, my eyes red and more tears about to come.

"Who knows about what you could do to them?" Sylar shouted, pointing to me in accusation as the blue consumed my arm in anger and fright.

Rachel and Peter backed up, but Nathan stared at me, his eyes scared as he shook his head and backed away. His golden-hazel eyes were now black and dark with fear as they widened, darting away as I tried to reach a hand towards him.

No, not Nathan. How could he think I was dangerous after I . . . saved him? Sylar had turned Nathan against me.

"I didn't mean to!" I screamed. "She was my sister Sylar! Why would I? You weren't the only one who cared about her!"

I cried out and turned around, staring into the face of Nathan. He looked at me like I was a monster, a murderer. And it hurt even more because I thought he understood me. The inside of my palm slammed against Nathan's cheek with so much force, he was thrown back, the side of his cheek throbbing.

"I can't believe you," I huffed. "I thought I could trust you."

I stomped off, wiping away the tears that couldn't stop pouring as I disappeared into the woods.

"Vasanti!" Nathan yelled after me, followed by Rachel and Peter.

While in the woods, I looked past Nathan and I saw Sylar, kneeling near Ashley, his head hung low as he cradled her remains in his arms, slipping the ring into his pocket. I'd never seen Sylar cry, and now, I never wanted to see it again, it hurt like hell to watch someone so strong, someone so . . . confident—cry because of me.

"Find her, Rachel!" Nathan ordered, rushing towards the woods where I disappeared to.

I quickened my pace, adrenaline rushing through me as I wanted to disappear, to get out of people's lives and try to find the meaning of my life—even if it meant using my powers to murder—or for evil.

My mind flashed back to Nathan's face before I left, the pain overpowering my adrenaline as I slowed down,, pain streaked along my face. I thought we understood each other. He looked at me like I was . . . a freak show. I could never hurt him. Not Nathan . . . never.

But what if I could?

I flipped over my hand so I could see my veins on my wrist. Even in the large, darkened forests, I could see the neon blue color of my veins as I sat down, my back braced against a tree, hidden by bushes of flowers as they seemed to surround me—comfort me. The veins throbbed as my fingers played with the ice, the glowing dimming, then bright as my arms was starting to turn blue out of anger.

But I could hurt someone. Nathan. If I lost control, I could massacre with a single touch.

My head snapped up as the three voices were heard from behind, as quiet as ever, but Peter and Nathan's coordinating skills weren't helping.

Suddenly, Nathan leapt from the bushes and scooped me into his arms, cradling me like he'd always had when we were flying. Rachel was right behind us as Nathan flew into the sky, Peter zooming to catch up as we blasted through the sky.

I pounded on Nathan's shoulder, my legs thrashing as the gray clouds passed us—or we passed them.

"Nathan, let me go!" I cried

"Rachel," Peter said gruffly as he dodged my kick. "Go for it."

"What are you . . .? I started, but Rachel's voice echoed through my head. "You can't . . . do . . . this . . ."

I got weaker as the voice got stronger and louder, my muscles relaxing in Nathan's arms. I took deep breaths of Nathan's clothes, not knowing why, my eyes drooping. But before they could close, I caught a glimpse of blood still trickling down the side of Nathan's right forehead where his hair was covering it, and he seemed to be wincing.

My head immediately started burning, making me wince as my eyes closed.

"Nathan," I whispered. "You're . . . bleeding . . ."

Go to sleep, Vasanti. Go to sleep.

Yes. I needed sleep.

My head bobbed and finally went limp as I blacked out, my arms falling to my sides.

I'll wake you up when we get home.

"Just go to sleep, Vasanti," Nathan said into my ear. "Go to sleep."

***

"Ow. Ow. OW!" I screamed as they dragged me up the stairs. "My head is fucking killing me!'

"Will you stop making her screaming out swear words at least 3 times in every single sentence?" Nathan muttered, annoyance in his voice. "It's really not her."

"Yeah, Rachel, get me to shut the fuck up," I said. "It's fucking annoying to Mr. I-fucking-know-my-fucking-cut-doesn't-fucking-hurt here."

Everything I looked at had a blurring edge to it, making my head spin and every time I took a step up the patio of the backyard balcony, my head ached and felt like a hammer was pounding on it from inside.

My arm wrapped around Rachel's shoulder, needing support as I stumbled into the house.

"This is so much fun!" Rachel clapped her hands together. "I'm sorry it hurts, Vasanti—it's just that you have the Gray blood in you, so every time I try mind control on you, it has to be extra effort and a little push in the head."

"That's fucking-sure-as-hell great," I sighed. "I wonder how it would fucking work on a fucking random dude that you fucking pick of the fucking street then."

"Rachel," Nathan growled.

"She's fuckin' on it," I snapped. "You don't have to fucking push her so fucking far, Mr. Alpha-Dog—she fucking knows, you know. But I bet you do have to push that fucking prostitute for her to even fucking talk to you."

Everyone was still and didn't move as they all looked at me, Rachel and Peter's eyes seeming to dance as they threw their heads back and laughed out loud, their voices in perfect accord.

"Oh, shit," I muttered. "Rachel, you bitch, you are so fucking dead after this. Damn, bastard! Why'd you have to throw in 'bitch' and 'bastard' in here too? I don't want to fucking hurt your feelings."

"Hey, I'm only making you speak your thoughts—and add swear words in them," Rachel teased.

"She really thinks that of Tracy?" Peter chuckled.

"Yeah, I fucking think that the prostitute is highly more bitchy and beautiful than I am—but who fucking cares? The bitch wants a piece of the bastard. The bastard wants a piece of me."

I laughed out loud and nobody joined in and I rolled my eyes.

"You guys are so fucking serious!" I cried. "Does it fucking run in the gay-ass family or something?"

My head cried out and my head nearly fell over if it weren't for Rachel picking me up.

"Rachel, hurry the fuck up and get this shit out of my head," I cried. "I bet this is fucking worse than having a fucking child."

"Fine," Rachel muttered after stepping into the house. "There."

Immediately, my head cleared up, my senses finally slamming into me. I took a deep breath, the sweet-cloudy smell still lingering on my clothes as they set me on the couch, my back bracing against the memory foam.

"Hallelujah, I thought that I was going to be your swear-slave forever," I muttered. "Rachel, you're lucky to be alive."

"It's not luck," Rachel beamed at me before slipping into the kitchen to look after Peter and Nathan. "You just don't want to kill me yet."

Tracy and Angela ran straight past me as if I was invisible and straight into the kitchen, crying out for some apparent reason. There was a rush of talking and whispering in the kitchen as I sat miserably on the couch.

I finally told myself that I had to move or else I'd be paralyzed in this position forever.

"Hey," I whispered as I stepped into the kitchen, looking out the window as the sun was setting, glinting off of Lady Liberty and giving it a bronze color to its torch, making the fire seem more realistic as it sat in her hand.

I think I had intruded something important and secret as I turned around to see everyone staring at me with confused faces. When their eyes met mine, they immediately turned around, speaking to each other with their voices low.

Rachel was helping Peter with a gash he had on his wrist, tracing up to his elbow when he had flew backwards a few times. Angela and Tracy were sitting beside Nathan, lifting up his hair and dabbing alcohol on his wound.

I gasped as his gash was larger than I thought; it was about two inches, give or take a few centimeters. Nathan's eyes caught mine for a second and he nodded to me, wincing as Angela pressed against his wound harder to make him look away from me. At least their wounds were visible—because mine weren't and I felt as if I was still being choked by Sylar, my windpipe feeling closed as I took a breath, the skin of my throat red a bruised.

My back was aching and I could swear it was bruised and had Sylar's marks on my shoulders. I winced silently to myself, lifting my shoulders up, the pain screaming throughout my body.

"There's some warm water in the pitcher," Rachel nodded towards the table. "Help yourself."

I smiled—not really needing the water, but taking it anyways because I didn't want to dip my finger into a cup and shatter it—pouring the water into a cup and gulping it down, the warm sensation seeming to open my airway a little more.

"You never stood a chance between Sylar," Angela scolded, standing up and pushing Peter's shoulder as she kissed his cheek. "I could have lost you!'

"But you didn't, ma," Nathan muttered. "I'd never let anything happen to him; you know that."

"Nathan, you'd die for Peter," Tracy scoffed. "Don't let your feelings get in the way of your duty."

I internally laughed—and what duty was that—screwing you?

"Vasanti, that's enough," Peter rolled his eyes. "Nathan wouldn't approve."

Of course he would.

"What's she saying?" Tracy cried, eyeing me as if I was a monster. "Is she talking about me?"

"No," Rachel laughed, trying to cover for me. "She's talking about how Nathan would never die in the line of duty the way he fights."

"Yes, of course," Angela boasted. "Nathan . . . should—will never die."

"Yes, because he's immortal, like I am!" Peter smiled.

I collected my self by talking a last gulp of my water, standing up to wash it in the sink as my back was turned to them. Rachel gasped out loud and my eyebrows rose in confusion as I dried the cup and put it in a cupboard.

I blinked a few times, as my vision blurred, my shoulders and back seeming to go through a burning sensation as I tried to stable myself into a chair. Nathan grabbed my shoulders and set me on a chair as everyone surrounded me. Rachel patted my shoulder and turned me around.

"Sorry Vasanti," she smirked at me. "I had to do that."

"Great," I cried out. "For the last time! No!"

The headache went away as she snapped out of my head, rummaging through the refrigerator as I sat down, my back burning. I looked up at Nathan, who was talking to Angela, keeping their voices low as they argued with Peter.

Tracy sat next to them, listening in quietly, her legs crossed and brushing back her hair as Nathan looked at her. I bit my lip as Tracy smirked at me after Nathan looked away, her eyes taunting me.

Bitch.

Now that was for real—my own thoughts.

"Okay, Vasanti," Rachel said, wrapping a lemon into a small towel. "This might sting a little."

She lifted up the sleeves of my shirt and grimaced. Patting down the lemon juice onto my shoulder stung as the open cuts were exposed to the citric acid, making me jump. But as I jumped in pain, nobody noticed—especially Nathan. The others went into the living room and talked while I sat alone in the kitchen as Rachel cleared my scrapes.

I sat there, thinking about what they were talking about, my suspicion getting the best of me as I thought about Nathan. Why did I save him? I had killed Ashley while trying to protect Nathan. Did he really mean that much to me? How could I still love him if he didn't love me back?

"Vasanti, you just might want to soak in a tub for a little bit," Rachel suggested, throwing the bloody mess into the garbage.

"Yeah, I'll try that later on," I said, washing my hands and stepping into the living room, Rachel trailing behind.

Everyone was gathered around a coffee table that they'd pulled up. I looked at Rachel and she shrugged her shoulders, rushing to gather around. I leaned against the wall, my foot tapping impatiently as Angela was drawing with a paint set on a piece of a canvas.

Oh, yay! Painting time for the old!

"Wait, is that Nathan?" Tracy asked, looking at Peter.

"It has to be, it's the scar he has," Peter answered.

Rachel looked up to me and caught my eyes, gesturing for me to come over as I started to get curious. I shrugged and added my shadow to the already darkened circle.

"What is it?" I whispered to Rachel.

"Angela draws and dreams of the future," Rachel explained. "She's seeing something and it's Nathan's future."

I looked up to see Angela, her eyes were a gray-white color as she drew, her face blank as her strokes streaked across the canvas like a professional

The picture she was drawing, I couldn't see because of the shadows that were cast upon the canvas, the streaks of white were the only thing I saw.

Eventually, after a few minutes of an awkward silence, Angela slammed her brush down, gasping as she snapped out of her 'world; and her eyes were their original color again.

Nathan snapped his fingers as Angela held up the picture, taking deep breaths and a few dim lights turned on.

I took a single looked at the picture and my eyes strayed away immediately, the pain stabbing me everywhere with betrayal. If Rachel was correct about Anglela's ability to paint the future—and that it couldn't change—and this was true, my life would be over.

Why did she have to paint this now? The image was so . . . unreal . . . but so descriptive beyond descriptions.

The image had a small framed portrait of a weeping willow—the exact one he had by his front door, but the portrait was unusually tilted as if someone had bumped it and it was about to fall. But what made me turn away was the reality of movement of the picture that she'd painted—the two people pressed together.

The one that was pinned on the wall had an unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt with rolled up sleeves and had his head tilted up to reveal an arrow-like scar—Nathan. The other person who's head was laying on his shoulder, her lips pressed against his neck as you could only see part of her face and her shoulder, her blouse falling off of her shoulders and seeming to be unbuttoned also, with only her lips and shoulders visible throughout the entire picture.

You would think that it was a stranger, but the only thing that distinguished her from the others was her hand that draped onto Nathan's shoulder—and the hand on his shoulder had blue veins and a spark of neon blue that sprung from finger to finger.

"It's Tracy," Angela gasped. "Tracy has the power of . . . the . . . sky . . . the blue tint is hers."

Tracy protested, but Angela nodded to Tracy and she smiled as everyone around me tensed—especially Rachel. If Tracy was a Neutral, how could she have a power? Was she already a Solitude?

"It could be Vasanti," Peter faked a smile.

"Peter!" Angela cried, slapping him in the shoulder.

"I'm just saying," Peter argued, dodging another hit from Angela.

"Yes, or course," I muttered. "It couldn't be me . . . that wouldn't . . . be right for our working positions."

Only someone like Tracy would have pink, plump lips with an expensive clear lips gloss with small crystals inside and eyelashes long enough to touch her own eyelids.

My phone rang in my pocket as I stared at Rachel for an answer. I pulled it out and looked at the ID, suddenly looking out the window as the rainy streets as I stepped into the kitchen, securing myself by turning off the lights and sitting down in a chair with the soft rain patting on the window behind me.

"Liz?"

"No, Vasanti, its Sarah," she muttered. "Liam just called Liz."

"OMG, what happened?" I whispered, on the edge of my seat.

"He wants to elope," Sarah cried. "Seriously."

"Are they insane?" I yelled, my hands slamming on the table. "They'd be tracked down!"

"They decided to wait . . . because . . . because . . ." Sarah trailed off, waiting for me to fill in.

News sure traveled fast about Sylar and deaths.

"I killed Ashley," I growled. "I didn't mean to!"

"We know," Sarah whispered. "You were so excited about Ashley, it wouldn't make any sense."

"She sacrificed herself," I sighed. "But thanks, you two are probably the only people who understand me."

"But Sylar is going emo here," Sarah pleaded. "You need to go to him."

"Go to him?" I cried out loud. "Are you crazy? He'd go on a psychopathic killing spree!"

"But Vasanti, think about it," Sarah pleaded "you've lost your sister. Do you want to lose your brother too?"

"I can't, Sarah," I confessed. "I'm at Nathan's and I—"

"Oh, my god," Sarah cut in, seeming to be jumping up. "You're totally crushing on your advisor?"

"I know, but—"

"My lord, Vasanti!" Sarah cried. "He's a Solitude! The exact same thing that happened to Liz and can happen to you!"

"That's the least of my problems," I mumbled. "I'm not a Villia until I put the crest on, that's not the problem—he's already had a GF for a while . . . and his mom . . . well let's just say . . . she's threatening me."

"You are really messed when it comes to your love life," Sarah laughed. "My advice is—do anything you can to get him to look at you."

She snapped the phone shut and I sulked in my seat, setting my phone onto the table and throwing my head into my hands as I sighed, letting the exasperation out of my body.

"I love watching your reactions," Rachel laughed, unfolding her hands and stepping out of her hidden posture in the doorway. "Your hunches are very intriguing."

"Please, leave my thoughts and I alone," I pleaded, looking up. "I've got enough on my shoulders—to last a lifetime."

"Mom wanted me to give you this," Peter said, slamming a necklace on the table, making me jump. "She 'thanks you' for saving us."

I was caught by surprise as they both sat next to me, handing me the necklace. Also because Angela had praised me after nearly killing me. I looked at the pendant, the chain smooth on my skin as the pendant was large enough to fit in my palm. I gasped when the picture finally came clear and glowed in the darkness, the eyes following your every gaze. The Solitude crest.

"What?" I cried. "Why me?"

"No Villia would stand up to Sylar under any circumstances," Peter smiled as he hugged Rachel, leaning in to his chest.

Besides love, I thought to myself.

I rotated the crest in my palm as the light from Lady Liberty reflected off of it. This was the first time I ever got to hold a Solitude crest and the indentations on the crest were amazingly smooth without any missing details. My finger traced around the entire thing, the tops of the mountains sharp and deadly, the outer oval designs swirling with beauty under and over to the other side.

"Thanks for coming, ma," Nathan said in the background as he spoke to Tracy silently.

"Rachel, Peter," I warned. "No taking over my mind tonight, I'm worn out."

"Fine," Peter smirked. "We'll be off then."

"By the way," Rachel whispered. "My clothes look good on you."

"Thanks?" I muttered, unsure.

Peter pressed his lips against Rachel's and they set off to 'be off' as they sat on the couch, flipping though the channels as they spoke to each other through their minds.

I stood up, still clutching onto the pendant as I passed the front door where Nathan was speaking to Tracy. She smirked at me as she said goodbye, holding his hand and kissing him on the lips, leaning closer to him, her eyes dancing in joy and pleasure at me.

Whore.

I rolled my eyes and pushed the door open, stepping into the door and throwing the closet open, pulling out another shirt to war as my current shirt was soaked with lemon juice and blood. I slipped into a midnight blue t-shirt with a long sleeved shirt under, and skinny jeans; stretching my fingers as I crossed my arms over my chest, running a hand through my hair and staring at the metal of the pendant. I couldn't accept this . . . I had a Villia crest that I was supposed to be wearing at this moment. But maybe I could wear both of them, meaning I was offered both and accepted neither. That meant I'd be a Neutral . . . with a power, meaning I needed a Neutral crest, which I'd never seen before.

But . . . I had killed Ashley, I'd be a traitor to both Neutrals and Villias, which meant I only belonged with the Solitudes.

No.

I had another choice. I could—

"Traumatized by my mother's change of heart?" Nathan chimed in.

I jumped and my head twisted around, the pendant's chain uncoiling and revealing itself, hanging from my finger. I was finally at ease as I saw his face, so perfect as the darkness seemed to suit him, making it dangerous and protected. My eyes lingered to his lips and I flipped around immediately, still seeing a trace of glitter on his lips.

Bastard.

"Somehow, she's proud of you," Nathan said, stepping in front of me so I had to face him. "It took her a while to trust Tracy."

"Yeah," I muttered.

It took her a long time.

I groaned, rushing out the door for no apparent reason, just wanting to be alone for a bit without having someone watch over me. Even in my head, I felt as if I didn't have any privacy without someone barging into my thoughts and having a killer headache.

"Ah, Vasanti," Peter nodded and smiled to me and Nathan. "That willow picture is right here if you'd like to be my guest."

I laughed, a fake laugh of course. That was innapropriate, but it was nice that someone was taking my side . . . not that I'd like to be the person in the picture or anything . . . okay . . . I admit it . . . I would like to be the person in the picture.

"Peter! You pervert!" Rachel called from the living room, turning off the TV.

"Is something wrong with you two?" Peter asked, tilting his head to examine us.

"No, nothing at all," I muttered, trying to sound convincing. "You just . . . have a really nice family, Nathan."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Peter rolled his eyes. "But Nathan's not part of this family if he hangs out with Tracy."

Nathan crossed his arms and glared at Peter with fierce eyes as Peter laughed, throwing his head back.

"No, it's not that . . . it's just that," I stuttered. "I wished that I could see my mom and dad at times too; and seeing others with their family members just . . . gets me where it's vulnerable."

Nathan and Peter didn't seem to budge, still staring at each other; Nathan with a death look on his face and Peter, who was about to burst out laughing.

"Sorry Nate," Peter laughed out loud, slapping Nathan's arm, which was right behind me. "Bros before hos, eh?"

A hand reached out from behind him and slapped him across his head, making him jerk and chuckle as he lost his balance. I giggled at the two hooligans, so perfect for each other. They understood each other and laughed at each other's jokes, never too serious, but loose too.

"Who are you calling a ho?" Rachel cried, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Fight we break up—" Peter started.

"Kiss we make up!" Rachel and I filled in.

"Oh, my lord," Peter and Nathan rolled their eyes and Peter draped his arms around Rachel's shoulder, guiding her into their room.

"We'll see who's hot and who's cold," Peter whispered.

When the door slammed shut, I immediately forgot to ask Rachel something that had bothered me. How did she get into Sylar's head?

"Hey Rachel, how did—" I started as I opened the door, pausing in the doorway.

Holy shit.

A split second after they'd gotten into the room, they were making out. Rachel was on the bed as Peter laid next to her, their lips perfectly in sync as Peter wrapped his arms around her in a secure cage. I had never seen Peter and Rachel like this before—it was so foreign to me with their perky attitudes.

Nathan reached out from behind me, pulling be back with his hand wrapped around my waist as his other hand closed the door, his head leaning on my right shoulder. I backed away, pushing his hands off of my waist.

My mind flashed to Sylar and Ashley's familiar touches that I paid attention to so I could interpret their body language.

Ashley.

My sister. Gone.

I had only got to be her sister for a few days and now she was gone—because I killed her . . . me. How could I have . . . no, it wasn't my fault. She died with honor, for the one she loved. To protect him . . . from me. She probably knew what I could have done I was dangerous and reckless with my powers around others, and I could get out of control. I killed her. I killed my sister. I . . . me . . . it was me.

"Vasanti?" Nathan asked, turning to me. "Are you okay?"

I backed away from him as he reached out to me. Crossing my arms, I closed my eyes.

How could I have . . . killed her? No . . . it wasn't my fault. She died with honor. For the one she loved. To protect him from . . . me. She probably knew what I could have done. I was dangerous and reckless with my powers around others, and I could--and would--go out of control.

I killed her.

"Vasanti?"

Nathan's voice was worrying, and I hadn't noticed that I walked away, staring out the window of Nathan's bullet-proof (probably missile-proof) office window, tears streaming and gleaming as they were wiped away by the ends of my sleeves.

"I killed her, Nathan," I whispered. "It was me."

"Vasanti, don't torture yourself, you need to--"

"Nathan, I killed her! It tortures me even when I don't think about it!" I cried, tears shattering onto the ground. "That's all that matters! I'm a killer! You know I killed her! You saw me kill her! I could see it in your eyes! You think I'm a monster! You're a senator, you're supposed to look at both sides before choosing. I thought you'd understand."

I just wanted to die, I needed to disappear or else I'd hurt more people around me. Mindoaybe I'd eventually have one of the adventerous, life-changing, forbidden love affairs with hell when I was in heaven, or have an affair with heaven when I was in hell. But that was already happening to me. Right here and now.

Nathan grabbed my shoulders from behind me and pulled me backwards until I was sitting in one of his smooth, leather chairs, his face a few inches from mine. His hands still gripped me, even as I relaxed. He looked me straight in the eye, mesmerizing me with his hazel-gold eyes. I stared into his eyes, as if to find something that I hadn't seen before, wanting to find something that could tell me that he cared. Something for me to count on for no apparant reason, just for my own gain. To be selfish.

"I am listening to both sides, but I've only heard your side," Nathan said in a calm, quiet voice. "But what you've done doesn't matter to me. We'll find a way to get you through this."

I looked away, disgusted. How could Nathan look at me without seeing a killer in my eyes. I shook my head, staring off and out the window, knowing that the trees that grazed with ease were mocking me.

"Vasanti, you're in shock," Nathan mumbled. "You just need to . . . relax, have some leisure time."

"My god, Nathan!" I yelled, a bit too loud. "I'm trying to have some leisure time!"

"Well maybe you just need to--"

I turned around to look at him and cut him off. I looked deeper into him and my eyes softened. He cared about me. He was worried. I had something to count on . . . I had someone who'd be there for me, fighting for my side. But we couldn't be together . . . because he wouldn't fight for the Villia side.

"--talk it out with someone," Nathan finished.

The way he was looking at me was now scary. His jaw was clenched and he had stiffened as he gripped onto my arm. His glare was almost . . . seducting.

"Nathan, maybe you should be--"

Nathan's hand raced up to my cheek as I argued and he pulled my face closer to his as he leaned forward.

OhMyGod, he was going to--

--and our lips met.

~End of Chapter Eight~