Filed to story: Kissed by Claw and Fang
“I’m fine,” I answer, even though I’m not sure it’s true. What kind of place is this where people try to shove you outside to die as a prank?
“You don’t look fine.”
That stings a little, even though I know he’s not wrong. “Yeah, well, it’s been a crappy couple of days.”
“I bet.” His eyes are serious as he looks at me, his expression grave. “You don’t have to worry about Marc and Quinn. They won’t bother you again.” The
I’ll make sure of it part of that statement goes unspoken, but I hear it all the same.
“Thank you,” I blurt out. “For helping me, I mean. I appreciate it.”
His brows go up and, if possible, his eyes go even darker in the dim light. “Is that what you think I did?”
“Isn’t it?”
He shakes his head, gives a little laugh that has my heart stuttering in my chest. “You have no idea, do you?”
“No idea of what?”
“That I just made you a pawn in a game you can’t begin to understand.”
“You think this is a game?” I ask, incredulous.
“I know exactly what this is. Do you?”
I wait for him to say something else, to explain his cryptic comments, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just stares at me until I can’t help but squirm a little. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he is right now, like he can’t decide if he made a mistake rescuing me from imminent death.
Or maybe it’s just that he can’t decide what to say next. In which case, join the freaking club.
In the end, though, all that brooding silence is for nothing, because he simply says, “You’re bleeding.”
“I am?” My hand goes to my cheek, which aches from where Marc’s shoulder banged into it when I was trying to get away from him.
“Not there.” He lifts his hand to my mouth and gently-so gently I can barely feel him-brushes his thumb across my lower lip. “Here.” He holds his thumb up, and in the dim light, I can just see the smear of blood glistening on his skin.
“Oh, gross!” I reach to wipe away the blood. “Let me-“
He laughs, cutting me off. Then brings his thumb to his lips and-holding my gaze with his own-sticks his thumb in his mouth and slowly sucks off the blood.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I don’t even know why. I mean, shouldn’t this be totally creeping me out?
Maybe it’s the way his eyes heat up the second he tastes my blood.
Maybe it’s the little noise he makes as he swallows.
Or maybe it’s the fact that that swipe of his thumb across my lips, followed by that lift of it to his own lips feels more intimate than any kiss I’ve ever shared with another boy.
“You should go.” The words sound like they’re being torn out of him.
“Now?”
“Yeah, now.” His expression feels intentionally vacant. Like he’s trying too hard not to share with me what he’s really thinking. Or feeling. “And I strongly suggest that after midnight, you stay in your room where you belong.”
“Stay in my-” I bristle at what he’s implying. “Are you saying I’m responsible for what happened tonight?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not. They should both have better control.”
It’s a weird way of saying they shouldn’t go around trying to murder people, and I start to ask him about it. But he continues before I can figure out how to phrase it. “But I warned you before that you need to be careful here. This isn’t like your old high school.”
“How do you know what my old high school was like?”
“I don’t,” he says with a smirk. “But I can guarantee it’s nothing like Katmere Academy.”
Zane’s right-of course he’s right-but I’m not about to back down now. “You don’t know that.”
He leans forward then, as if he can’t help himself, until his face, and his lips, are barely an inch from mine. And just like earlier, I know it should make me uncomfortable. But it doesn’t. It just makes me burn. And this time, when my knees shake, it has nothing to do with fear.
My lips part, my breath hitches in my chest, my heart beats faster. He feels it-I can see it in his blown-out pupils, in the way he goes wary and watchful. Can hear it in the sudden harshness of his own breath, sense it in the slight tremble of his body against my own. For a second, just a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. But then he leans in farther, past my mouth, until his lips are all but pressed up against my ear. And I get the strange sense that he’s smelling me just like Marc and Quinn had, although it has an entirely different effect on me.
“You have no idea what I know,” he says softly.
The warmth of his breath has me gasping, melting, my whole body sagging against his of its own volition.
He lets it happen for one second, two, his hands on my waist, his shoulders curving down and into me. And then, just as suddenly, he’s gone, stepping back so fast, I nearly fall without the support of his body.
“You need to go,” he repeats, voice even lower, rougher than before.
“Now?” I demand, incredulous.
“Right now.” He nods to the staircase, and somehow I find myself moving toward it, though I never make a conscious decision to do so. “Go straight to your room and lock the door.”
“I thought you said I don’t have to worry about Marc or Quinn anymore?” I ask over my shoulder.