Captivate (Unearthly Balance Book 1)

  Captivate

  Unearthly Balance, #1

  Jessica Sorensen

  Contents

  1. Everly

  2. Nico

  3. Everly

  4. Nico

  5. Nico

  6. Everly

  7. Nico

  8. Everly

  9. Nico

  10. Everly

  11. Everly

  12. Nico

  13. Everly

  14. Nico

  Coming Soon!

  About the Author

  Other books by Jessica Sorensen:

  Captivate

  Jessica Sorensen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Sorensen

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  For information: jessicasorensen.com

  Cover Design by: MaeIDesign

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Everly

  I think the guy standing in the middle of the quad might be dying, and I’m pretty sure he might kill me with him.

  His name is Drew Pestingford, and he’s a fairly quiet, off the radar kind of guy, up until a few minutes ago when his girlfriend of two years decided to slaughter his heart by dumping him in front of the entire school. The stabbing emotional pain he’s experiencing is enough to knock the air out of my own lungs, and what I’m feeling are his diluted emotions. I can only imagine how much he’s enduring—enough that he might keel over and drop dead right here in front of everyone.

  Yeah, okay, so maybe I’m being a bit overdramatic, but he’s definitely suffering through some major heartache.

  I want to shove my way through the crowd and tell him things will get better. Then I would pull out my phone and blast “Love Hurts” by Nazareth so he understood he isn’t the only one who’s ever felt this way. But getting that close means taking the full-force of his aguish. I would feel his soul cracking in half, feel his will to live breaking, his heart dying. And while none of those things are actually happening to him, at the moment, he believes they are, and that thought power makes my despair detector thingy go haywire.

  Just when I think the pain can’t get any worse, Drew’s girlfriend confesses there’s someone else, has been for three months. My stomach churns, my lungs struggle for oxygen, and a deep, throbbing sensation tears at my chest as Drew’s heart shatters into pieces. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

  That’s my cue to leave before I end up passing out.

  Turning away from the scene, I shove my way through the gawkers and toward the entrance of the high school. With each step, my nausea dissipates and air returns to my lungs, yet the throbbing in my heart will linger for at least the next few hours. It’s something I learned quickly about my curse.

  The heart is always the last to recover when someone experiences a high dose of despair—the only emotion I ever feel flowing off others. At least, that’s how it’s been for as long as I can recollect. Even when I was four years old and my grandma died, I remember feeling horrible grief after my mom learned the news.

  When I found her sobbing on the sofa, her eyes swollen and red, I immediately knew something was wrong. My mom never cried. Even when my dad bailed on us, she didn’t shed a tear.

  I approached her with caution, asking, “Mama, what’s wrong?”

  A sob wrenched from her chest as tears streamed down her face. “It’s your grandma … She’s … gone.”

  “Gone?” I asked. “Like, on a vacation?”

  She shook her head. “No, sweetie. She … died … yesterday morning … She’s gone. And I don’t know what to do. She’s the only one who ever understood. Who knew about …” Her voice cracked, and her eyes widened as if something had spooked her.

  I didn’t know what had her so horrified, but my thoughts lay elsewhere. My grandma died? I’d never get to bake cookies with her again? I’d never again get to go shopping with her? I’d never get to hug her ever again?

  Tears pooled in my eyes. “She really died?”

  My mom nodded. “I’m sorry, Everly. I know how much you love her.” She opened her arms for a hug. “Come here. Help me feel better.”

  I went to her, wanting to take her pain away. The closer I got to her, though, the more a blinding, helpless, confusing ache filled my chest. The pressure was unbearable, so I stepped away. However, my mom snagged the sleeve of my shirt and yanked me to her, nearly squeezing the life out of me as she pulled me in for a hug.

  The contact of her icy cold skin sent a chill through me. The longer I stayed in her arms, the more the iciness expanded, developing into a painful ache that ripped the air from my lungs.

  I thought I’d never escape the painful terror. I thought I’d die in her arms and never breathe again. Then she nudged me back and warmth enveloped my body once again.

  “I think I’m going to cook dinner.” Her eyes had dried, and she even managed a smile. “Is there anything in particular you want to eat?”

  I shook my head, my body trembling from the grief stinging under my skin. I felt so exhausted, so drained, so … broken.

  “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

  She patted my head then whisked herself toward the kitchen with a spring in her step. “Sounds good. Sleep as long as you need to. It’s been a rough day.”

  Nodding, I dragged myself to my room and collapsed onto my bed. The second my head hit the pillow, my eyes shut.

  I didn’t wake up for almost four days.

  I thought it was strange that I slept for so long, but my mom didn’t seem worried. In fact, she was oddly happy after being so distraught. I didn’t question her smiles and laughter, though. I envied them. I wanted to laugh again, but a darkness was stirring inside me.

  I didn’t understand why I felt so broken and weighted until I started school. Then I began to piece together what was really going on with me. Not only did I experience my own despair, but others’ as well. All I had to do was get close enough to someone, and if they were sad and hurting, I did, too.

  At first, I tried to help people; get them to talk, open up—do whatever I had done to my mom that made her go from sad to happy in two seconds flat. But whatever that was turned out to be a one-time thing, because I couldn’t help my brother. And, God, did I try. I tried so much it nearly killed me.

  I choke on the memory of my brother and how hard I tried to save him from his own despair, only for him to put an end to it himself.

  I couldn’t save him. I failed.

  My brother was one of my closest friends. Well, he was before he sank into his depression. After that, he withdrew from everyone. And after he died, I withdrew from people, too.

  My life became crammed with watching, feeling, breathing, living other people’s sadness. Over time, I learned to keep my distance from everyone. It’s just too difficult to deal with that much nonstop pain when I know I can’t do anything to stop it. I’ll admit, though, that sometimes I get lonely, and I wonder what it would be like to touch someone, hold their hand, hug and kiss someone without feeling like I’m goin
g to die from anguish.

  Sighing, I tug my mind from my painful thoughts and memories, and summon a breath before entering the school. As always, the hallway is jam-packed, one of the many huge downfalls of going to school. Fortunately, I graduate in a few days. Then it’s college online classes and continuing my job at the library until I get my degree. After that, I’ll probably spend the rest of my life working from home, isolated from others, away from the world’s sorrow.

  Is it ideal? No, not at all. But unless I can figure out a way to tune out my curse, I’m shit out of luck.

  “Yo, dude, did you see what was going on out front? Emily’s dumping Drew right in front of everyone. It’s so fucking hilarious,” Leo, the most popular guy in our school, shouts across the hallway to one of his friends. He’s standing close enough that his voice makes my ears ring. And when his elbow rams into my back, I can’t help thinking, Here we go again. Thankfully, he isn’t feeling any internal torment, just getting his kicks and giggles off of Drew’s.

  Sick, twisted asshole. He wouldn’t think it was so funny if he had to live through the feeling every single day, or if it was his ass getting dumped in front of everyone.

  An uncontrollable rage erupts within me, and I whirl toward him. “Yeah, it’s really funny, getting your heartbroken, isn’t it?”

  His gaze lands on me, confusion creasing his brow, probably because he doesn’t have a clue who the hell I am—most people don’t. He measures me up from head to toe, assessing my long, brown hair; the minimal makeup on my face; and my typical, grungy outfit of torn jeans and a T-shirt; topped off with a plaid shirt tied around my waist; and clunky boots. He gives me an unimpressed look before dragging his gaze back up to my eyes.

  “Um, yeah, it is pretty fucking funny.” He shuts his locker, a smile playing at his lips. “The idiot looks like he’s about to cry.”

  “Really. Cry? Wow. That’s so fucking funny,” I comment dryly. “I bet you wouldn’t think it was so funny if you were in Drew’s shoes.”

  “Well, I’m not, am I?” A smirk dances at his lips as he casually leans against his locker with his arms crossed. “And I never will be, because no girl’s dumb enough to dump me. I always do the dumping.”

  “You sure about that?” I question, elevating my brows. “Because, last year, when Madison broke up with you, you seemed pretty distraught over it.”

  His smirk fizzles. “Madison didn’t break up with me.” He straightens his stance, his jaw set tight. “And I wasn’t upset. I wanted to break up with her.”

  “Sure you did. That’s why you spent lunch in the janitor’s closet, bawling your eyes out.”

  His eyes darken as he leans in, lowering his voice. “How the fuck do you know about that?”

  I shrug like I have a juicy story I’ll never tell. The truth isn’t that juicy, though.

  Last year, I’d been eating lunch behind the shelves in the janitor’s closet, something I do when I need a break from the depression floating in the air. Leo had stumbled in, dragging in his heartbreak with him. He didn’t notice me as he locked himself in the room and called his mom.

  I was about to stand up and reveal myself when he started to cry, telling his mom about how Madison dumped him. That’s when the wave of despair crashed against me, stealing the air out of my lungs. I sank back down to the ground, hiding in the shadows, and had no choice but to ride Leo’s heartache with him.

  “Tell me how you know,” he growls, inching closer to me with his fists balled at his sides. When he lifts a fist, my heart thrashes.

  Holy shit. Is he going to hit me?

  While I like to believe I’m a badass, I’m not about to throw down with the six-foot, two hundred pound wrestling star of our school.

  I step back, putting some distance between us, but he matches the move, reducing the space and backing me against the wall on the other side of the hallway. Bystanders turn to watch, causing a tornado of sorrow to funnel around me.

  “Tell me!” Leo shouts, bashing his fist against the wall beside my head. “Or I’ll—”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Nico Everson, a guy in my grade who I’ve secretly had a crush on, steps up beside us and pushes Leo away from me. Then he crosses his arms and stares Leo down with his dark, intense eyes. “You need to calm the fuck down before I make you.”

  Leo blinks, the rage in his eyes fading. Then he presses his lips together, eyeballing Nico, most likely considering his next move.

  The two of them are the same height, but Nico has nothing on Leo size-wise. His frame is more lean and tone as opposed to Leo’s bulky muscles. Regardless, everything about Nico screams “don’t fuck with me,” from his black biker boots, jeans and T-shirt to the intricate tattoos winding up his arms. Plus, he has a reputation for getting into fights. Or, I guess I should say, winning fights. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a rumor about him getting his ass kicked, so much as him kicking someone’s ass.

  When Nico doesn’t back down, Leo steps back, his gaze darting toward crowd. “Whatever. You’re not even worth the effort.” He shoots me a nasty look, shoves his way between Nico and me, and then storms down the hallway.

  A shaky exhale eases from my lips as people turn around and leave. When the heaviness clears from the air, I turn toward Nico to thank him, but the words get lodged in my throat as my gaze collides with his intensely gorgeous eyes, and an abundance of painful sorrow fires through my veins, searing my heart.

  I gasp for air, battling to keep my feet under me. Never have I felt this much despair from anyone in my entire life. Not even from my brother. All I want is to get rid of it; do whatever it takes to make the pain cease to exist.

  Unthinkable things cross my mind—stuff I’ve never contemplated before—but I know someone who has.

  Choking on the memories of my brother, I slump against the nearest locker as the world around me spins around like a merry-go-round on crack.

  Nico drags his palm across the top of his cropped brown hair, studying me with worry written all over his face. “Are you okay?”

  My knees threaten to buckle out from under me. Just go away. Just leave so I can breathe.

  The concern in his eyes magnifies. “I know Leo’s a dick, but you shouldn’t let him get to you. It gives him too much power, and you’re way too strong for that.”

  I want to scream at the top of my lungs that Leo didn’t get to me, that I don’t give a flying rat’s ass about Leo’s temper tantrums. Talking right now is impossible, though. Moving my feet is impossible. Even breathing is starting to get questionable. If Nico doesn’t walk away from me soon, I might black out.

  When he doesn’t budge, my knees finally buckle, and I start to teeter sideways.

  Just before I fall flat on my face, Nico catches me in his arms, which would be a dream come true, except I feel like I’m dying in his sadness.

  “Easy, Everly,” he says, steadying me. He looks into my eyes, and my heart fleetingly leaps before his agony floods my chest again. “You need to calm down, sweetheart, or you’re going to pass out.”

  Through the hell raining down on me, the dumbest thought ever crosses my mind. He knows my name? Nico Everson, the guy I’ve had a crush on for three years straight, knows my name.

  Sure, I know who he is, due to my borderline stalker habit of secretly watching him all the time. But Nico’s the kind of guy everyone knows and observes from a distance yet never dares become friends with. And he sure as heck doesn’t go around calling random strangers sweetheart. At least, not from what I’ve seen.

  That revelation makes me feel stupidly giddy for maybe the first time in my life. The foreign sensation chips through the pain piercing inside me, and I manage to jerk away from his arms.

  His eyes widen in surprise and his lips part, but before he can say anything, I stagger down the hallway away from him, burst through the exit doors, rush across the parking lot, and duck inside my car.

  Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out, I tell myself over and over aga
in. Still, it’s hard to get air into my lungs as my skin burns from where his fingers touched me.

  Underneath the agony, desire tingles, a desire to be touched by him again.

  Desire. Pain. Desire. My brain is going haywire.

  Lowering my head onto the steering wheel, I take several measured breaths. With each inhale and exhale, I slowly calm down. Nevertheless, like always, my heart refuses to let go of the pain.

  “What the hell was that?” I whisper to myself.

  Better yet, what the hell happened to Nico that caused him so much pain?

  Chapter 2

  Nico

  Everly Garrette running away from me isn’t shocking. A lot of people keep their distance from me, and I prefer it that way. It’s not like I’m a coldhearted bastard or anything. Being around others—being around humans, anyway—is just … complicated.

  I should be happy Everly bailed before I fucked up. Well, fucked up again. I never should’ve gotten that close to her. But when I saw Leo preparing to hit her, my self-control exploded, along with my ability to step back and think rationally.

  While most of the school thinks Leo is the shit, I know his real reputation. I know the reason he was so upset when Everly threw his breakup with Madison in his face.

  Me, I look scary as hell with my tattoos and piercings, and I automatically get a rep for being a sketchy-ass guy, when I’ve never harmed a human. Then there’s Leo, the preppy, star athlete, who’s probably punched more people than I can count, yet people think he’s this good guy. Meanwhile, he has some serious anger issues and will take them out on practically anyone. He could’ve, and very well just might’ve, hit Everly, and no one would’ve known how to react. Humans are funny like that.

  Fucking asshole. He’s lucky he walked away.

  Just knowing he could’ve hurt Everly caused me to do something forbidden. I approached her without my shield up, and the gods probably got a full view of my dumbass move. They most likely saw how much I enjoyed being near her, an emotion I’m not supposed to experience while I’m trapped on earth.