Filed to story: Kissed by Claw and Fang
And that’s before Lia lashes out at him, her open palm cracking against his scarred cheek hard enough to have Zane’s head flying back. He doesn’t hit her in return. In fact, he doesn’t do anything at all until her palm comes flying at his face again.
This time, he catches her wrist in his hand and holds tight as she struggles to pull away. She’s screaming full-out now, harsh sounds of rage and agony that claw their way inside me and bring tears to my eyes.
I know those sounds. I know the agony that causes them and the rage that makes it impossible to contain them. I know how they come from deep inside and how they leave your throat-and your soul-shredded in their wake.
Instinctively, I take a step toward her-toward them-galvanized by Lia’s pain and the barely leashed violence that hangs in the air between them. But the wind picks up as I take that first step, and suddenly they’re both turning and staring at me with flat black eyes that send a chill straight through me. A chill that has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with Zane and Lia and the way they’re looking at me.
Like they’re the predators and I’m the prey they can’t wait to sink their teeth into.
I tell myself that I’m just spooked, but it doesn’t help me shake the weird feeling, even as I give them both a little wave. I thought Lia and I might be becoming friends yesterday-especially when she suggested doing mani-pedis together-but it’s obvious that friendship doesn’t extend to whatever is happening here. Which is fine. The last thing I want to do is get in the middle of a fight between two people who obviously have some kind of history together. But I also don’t want to leave them alone if their fight has deteriorated to her hitting him and him grabbing her in self-defense.
All of which leaves me unsure of what I’m supposed to do now, stuck where I am, an awkward guard staring at both of them in an effort to prevent I-don’t-know-what while they stare right back at me.
But when Zane drops Lia’s wrist and takes a couple of steps toward me, the same panic that hit me yesterday at the party slams through me again. As does the same odd fascination I’ve had from the beginning. I don’t know what it is about him, but every time I catch sight of him, I feel something tug at me I can’t identify, something I have no ability to explain.
He advances a few more steps, and my heart kicks up another notch or fifty. Still, I stand my ground-I ran from Zane once. I’m not going to do it a second time.
But then Lia reaches out, grabbing him, holding him back, pulling him toward her. The dangerous look fades from her eyes (though not from his) until it’s almost like it was never there, and she waves at me enthusiastically.
“Hi, Ivy! Come join us.”
Ummm, no thanks. Not in a million years. Not when every instinct I have is screaming at me to flee, even though I don’t know why.
So instead of moving forward, I give her another little wave and call, “Actually, I’ve got to get back to my room before Macy sends out another search party. I just wanted to explore a little bit before I start classes tomorrow. Have a good afternoon!”
The last seems like major overkill, considering the fury I sense between them, but I tend to either clam up or babble when I’m nervous, so all in all, it’s not a terrible performance. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I turn and start walking away as fast as I can without actually running.
Every step is a lesson in self-control as I have to force myself not to look back over my shoulder to see if Zane is still watching me. The prickle at the back of my neck says he is, but I ignore it.
Just like I ignore the weird feeling inside me that has shown up every time I’ve seen him. I assure myself it’s nothing, that it doesn’t matter. Because no way am I about to crush on a boy this complicated.
Still, the urge to turn around stays with me-right up until Zane appears by my side, eyes gleaming with interest and sexy-af hair blowing in the wind.
“What’s the rush?” he asks, scooting in front of me so that he’s directly in my path, walking backward so we’re face-to-face and I’m forced to slow down or bump into him.
“Nothing.” I look down so I don’t have to look him in the eye. “I’m cold.”
“So which is it? Nothing?” He stops walking, which forces me to do the same, then puts a finger under my chin and presses up until I relent and meet his gaze. He flashes me a crooked little smile that does unspeakable things to my heart-the whole reason I’d been trying not to look at him to begin with. Especially considering what I just saw between him and Lia. “Or the cold?”
If I look closely, I can still see the imprint of her hand on his scarred cheek. It pisses me off, more than it should considering I barely know the guy. Which is why I take a deliberate step to the side and say, “The cold. So if you’ll excuse me…”
“You’re wearing an awful lot of clothes,” he tells me-confirming that I look as ridiculous as I feel-as he moves until he’s once again in front of me. “You sure the cold’s not just an excuse?”
“I don’t need to make excuses to you.” And yet I am-making excuses and trying to run away from him and what I just saw. Trying to run away from all the things he makes me feel when all I really want to do is grab on to him and hold on tight. It’s an absurd thought, an absurd feeling, but that doesn’t make it any less real.
He tilts his head, quirks a brow, and somehow has my heart beating that much faster because of it. “Don’t you?”
This is the part where I should start walking. The part where I should do a lot of things, any thing, that doesn’t involve throwing myself at Zane Vale like I’m the game-deciding pitch at the World Series. But I don’t do that.
Instead, I stay where I am. Not because Zane is blocking my way-which he is-but because everything inside me is responding to everything inside him. Even the danger.
Especially the danger, though I’ve never been that girl before, the one who takes risks just to see how they feel.
Maybe that’s why-instead of moving around him and running back to the castle like I should-I look him straight in the eye and say, “No. I don’t answer to you.”
He laughs. He actually laughs, and it’s the most arrogant thing I’ve ever heard.
“Everyone answers to me…eventually.”
Oh. My. God. What an asshat.
I roll my eyes and step around him, moving up the path with a stiff back and a fast pace that all but screams for him not to follow. Because when he says stuff like that, it doesn’t matter how drawn to him I feel. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time on a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone.
Except Zane must not be as adept at reading body language as I thought-or he just doesn’t care. Either way, he doesn’t let me go like I expect. Instead, he starts walking right alongside me again, keeping pace no matter how hard and fast I push myself.
It’s annoying as fuck, even without the obnoxious smirk he doesn’t try to hide. Or the multiple sidelong glances that precede the words: “Hanging out with Sebastian Moonflame isn’t exactly keeping your head down.”
I ignore him, do my best Dory impression.
Just keep walking, just keep walking.
“I’m only saying,” he continues when I don’t respond, “making friends with a dra-” He breaks off, clears his throat before trying again. “Making friends with a guy like Sebastian is…”
“What?” I turn on him, frustration racing through me. “Being friends with Sebastian is what exactly?”
“Like painting a target on your back,” he answers, looking a little taken aback by my anger. “It’s pretty much the opposite of keeping a low profile.”
“Oh, really? So what exactly is hanging out with you, then?”
His face goes blank, and I don’t think he’s going to answer. But eventually, he says, “Utter and complete stupidity.”
Not the answer I was expecting, especially from someone as arrogant and annoying as he can be. The blunt honesty of it slips past my defenses, though. Has me answering when I didn’t think there was anything else to say. “Yet here you are.”