Defiance (18 page)

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Authors: Lili St Crow

BOOK: Defiance
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My brain seized up. Attention? He was around all the time. Who else did I pay attention to? “What?”
He inhaled again. He was
smelling
my hair. Jeez.
Oh, wow.
This was a lot more intense than kissing him. That just kind of . . . happened, you know? I could say that I just let him do it, it wasn’t really me.
This was something else. Because he smelled good, male and spice and that golden apple scent all mixed in, and the bloodhunger half–woke at the back of my throat. It didn’t send glass shivers through me, and it didn’t make me want to drink. It made my skin feel too small, and it made me move restlessly. Not to get away, though.
I didn’t precisely want to get away.
It was so different from anything else I’ve ever done. I mean, catching a quick makeout session with a middling-cute boy in the band room was one thing, because I knew I’d be gone in a couple weeks anyway. I didn’t get involved across sixteen states, but I did
experiment
, okay?
Graves’s coat made a sound against the wall as I moved, fetching up against Christophe’s other arm.
Graves . . . he’d kept backing up when it was time to get a little closer, so to speak. If he’d been all over me like this, I’d’ve . . .
What? What would I have done? It was so hard to think with Christophe so close. Especially when he leaned all the way in, pressing himself against me.
It was . . . nice. It was like the whole world had been shut out, and there was just him. Like he was a wall between me and everything that had happened since the night Dad hadn’t come home. I could relax, be open fingers instead of a closed-up fist. I could let a little of myself go, because he was there.
“I don’t mean to be cruel,” Christophe murmured. “I just want you prepared. I want you
safe
. Is that so hard to understand?”
He didn’t sound angry, thank God. For the umpteenth time that night, I was shaking. It wasn’t fear, though. It was relief so deep and wide I wasn’t sure I could stand up. My knees had gone noodle-gooshy and I found out my hands had crept up around his neck, fingers lacing together like I was afraid he was going to get away. Vanish, somehow, like everything and everyone else that had made me feel safe.
Everything tangled up inside me, and I let out a long sigh. My breath touched his neck, and he shivered. Like it was pleasant. My teeth tingled more fiercely, my jaw shifting, and the fangs were sharp aching points.
I inhaled sharply, and that was a mistake. Because I could smell the fluid in his veins, copper and spice, heat lightning and the smell of the desert when you drive with the windows down after dark and you’re not stopping anytime soon.
The hunger woke up the rest of the way. I turned stiff as a board against the wall, fighting off the urge to push my chin forward, mouth opening, and go for the pulse I could suddenly hear.
“Go ahead.” Christophe’s head tilted back slightly. The shaking had invaded him, too. Like there was an earthquake, and the only people noticing it were us. “I trust you. You’re all I have, Dru.”
What?
“Chr-chr—” I was trying to say his name, but my tongue was clumsy around the fangs. They pricked, sharply, and I tasted my own blood. It stroked the hunger, red crawling up over the darkness behind my eyelids, and my hands untangled enough to shove violently at him. He stumbled back a step, and I clapped my right hand over my mouth like I was trying to stop myself from puking.
He grabbed my shoulders. “It’s all right. Shhh, it’s all right.” He said something else, too, but too low and confused for me to hear it.
I tried to back up through the wall. He held me still, and my stomach cramped in on itself. I shook my head, holding my mouth closed, trying not to
smell
him. Not because it was offensive, but because he smelled so goddamn good.
Or the blood did. I couldn’t tell them apart now. What if that apple-pie smell was him smelling like a
snack
, for God’s sake? Like a Hostess apple pie, just waiting for me to tear the wrapping off and take a bite?
My knees gave way. I slid down the wall, and he came with me. Graves’s coat tangled up my feet, and if Christophe hadn’t been holding on to me, I would have ended up sprawled instead of sitting on the floor.
“Now.” He sounded completely calm. “Where are you going? Let me guess. Anywhere you can, to get away.”
Not really.
I kept my hand clapped tight over my mouth. He crouched on his heels like it was as comfortable as breathing, leaned forward a little. His fingers tweezed at the heavy material of the coat, on the right where it was shredded by something’s claws and I’d carefully stitched it together.
“Or,” he said, quietly, “you’re looking for someone.”
The bloodhunger retreated, snarling, step by step. After a little while, I could peel my hand away from my mouth. My teeth tingled, but they were only bluntly human. “Christophe—” I sounded like all the air had been punched out of me.
“He’ll be alive.” Christophe’s hands dangled, loose and expressive. Even that looked graceful and planned. “But he won’t be unchanged. Sergej will use him as bait to catch you. You’re the real prize.”
The name sent a twinge of pain through my head. I wasn’t sure if it was the word itself, or the load of hate and contempt Christophe’s voice carried every time he said it.
And there was something bothering me lately. My mouth started working again, thank God. “Why won’t he just go after Anna? She’s easier to get to, isn’t she? What with sending him information all the time and stuff.”
“You’re the bigger threat, Dru.” As if talking to an idiot. “He’s already corrupted Anna. You? You’ve not only fought him off, but you’re incorruptible. He lives to
twist
things,
kochana
. You wouldn’t understand.”
Great. What?
“Okay, sure. Look, Christophe—”
He reached up. I almost flinched, but he only tucked a fallen curl behind my ear. His fingertips brushed my cheek. Warm skin, soft and forgiving. But my shoulder hurt, the bruise throbbing. His fingertips slid down, touched under my chin, and I found out I was staring at his chest before he pushed gently and I was forced to look up at his shadowed face.
“Will you at least consider me an option?” A bitter little half-smile, and his shoulders hunched slightly. “I don’t know how much more open I can be. About how I . . .”
Oh, my God.
The tangle of feelings inside me snarled even further. “I like you.” There, it was out. It was said. Had I been lying to Graves, or to myself? “I really do. You’re . . . different.”
I could have kicked myself. “Different”? That was all I could come up with?
Now there was a ghost of amusement in his expression. One half of his mouth curled up, a quiet, companionable almost-grin. “Is that the word you’d choose?”
I grabbed my courage with both hands, so to speak. “Yeah. One of them, anyway.”
A single nod. Then he went still, in that way older
djamphir
have. “What happened between you and the
loup-garou
?”
Oh, for God’s sake.
But then I realized he probably wasn’t asking about the state of the union, so to speak. He was asking about something else. Or at least, I was only going to answer him as if he was asking about something else. “You mean, that day? He, uh, he found me. After Anna and I had a . . . a fight. She had the gym cleared and came to do something, I don’t know.” I leaned back against the wall, because Christophe’s attention was so focused. It was like having a laser drilling right through me. All this time, and he was the only person who
really
looked at me.
Even Nat sometimes didn’t see me. She saw a
svetocha
, that was all. Something I had to live up to. Something I had no
idea
of how to live up to, when I was just regular me.
Just Dru.
I swallowed hard, continued. “I got busted up a bit. Graves . . . he wanted to know who’d done it. I didn’t want to say.”
I couldn’t get the words out. I was stupid.
“He got mad. Stamped off.”
Another single nod, breaking his eerie stillness. “Leaving you unprotected.”
Defending Graves was like defending Dad. The urge was immediate, overwhelming, and instinctive. “I didn’t—”
He made a sharp slashing movement with one hand. “I know you’ll hear no word against him. But no matter how angry he was, leaving you alone should
not
have been an option.”
Meaning, probably,
I wouldn’t do that
. But Christophe had left me alone before, hadn’t he? Or let me
think
he wasn’t hanging around.
I slumped against the wall. “Can we get off this subject?”
He shrugged. I waited for him to say something else, but he just rose, fluidly, and held out a hand. I took it—there was no reason not to—and he hauled me up as if I weighed less than a feather. The leashed strength was frightening. Especially since I’d seen him use it.
When I had my balance, I tried to pull my hand back. His fingers tightened, briefly, before he let go. Just to make sure I knew he was
choosing
to turn me loose, I guess.
Or just because he didn’t want to let go.
“Dru.” He was looking away now, up the deserted, shadowed hall.
The busts gleamed as they watched with blank eyes, each one a
djamphir
famous in the Real World for something or another, but not to be found in any ordinary history books. I suddenly wondered if they minded. Brought myself back to reality with a twitch. “What?”
He kept staring away. “I don’t mistake you for your mother. She was the closest I had to . . . a friend. A real friend. She taught me much.” He stopped, inhaled sharply as if the words pained him, and dropped his chin a little. “But I didn’t have trouble sleeping or eating when I thought of her in danger. I didn’t feel my heart tear itself out of my chest when she looked sad. I did not ever fear for her the way I fear for you.” The aspect settled over him in a wave, and I could see it rising from him like heat shimmers from pavement on a scorcher of a day. “I don’t blame you if it’s not . . . enough. I’m tainted, I know as much. Just . . . let me stay near you. Please.”
What could I say to that? Especially since
my
heart gave a huge painful leap. Somehow I crossed the space between us, and when I put my arms around him, he hugged me back. I didn’t smell his blood now. I just smelled
him
, that maddening apple-pie-and-male blend that yanked everything inside me sideways. It helped that when I laid my head on his chest I could hear his heartbeat going like a clock. Tick-tock, tock-tick, each beat strong and steady.
Right then it didn’t matter that he was like a twister, or that he was infuriating when it came to sparring, or that my shoulder still hurt. What mattered was the way he slumped against me, sighing a little, and the way I finally felt like I was . . . home. It mattered that he always came back for me, and it mattered that he’d said those things to me.
Nobody had ever said anything like that to me, ever.
That was the first time I ever really kissed him. As in, the first time
I
kissed him without waiting for him to try for me.
And it was great.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
 
It was the
middle of the day, the long sleepy time when sunshine comes down like golden honey, and someone was shaking me awake. I wanted to roll over and stick my head under the pillow. The thought—
it’s not time for school, leeme lone
—was familiar because it’d hit me every morning when the alarm went off, no matter where in the country we were.
“Milady.” Nathalie, whispering fiercely. “Dru, please, wake
up
.”
I sat straight up, almost cracking my forehead against hers because she was bending down. She jerked back gracefully, and I got a good lungful of her perfume. She wore a strange musky blend from a little blue bottle, and it suited her. Right now, though, it had a weird coppery edge.
I know that smell. Fear.
“Christophe?” It was the first word out of my mouth. I blinked, rubbed at my eyes. “What the hell?”
“He’s gone. Benjamin is down the hall. It’s Ash.” Her dark eyes were wide, and her sleek hair was mussed. Just a little. “We’ll take you to him, Shanks and me. But hurry up. Please.”
I scrambled up out of the white bed. I’d fallen asleep in Christophe’s arms, still wearing Graves’s coat. Sometime during the night I’d shucked the coat and my jeans and crawled under the covers. I was hoping I’d done it while I was alone.
I grabbed for my jeans, but Nathalie was quicker. She hooked them up off the floor and shook her head. “Clean clothes. You never know. It’s not
that
urgent.”
“Benjy could come along any moment,” Shanks hissed from the door. He was in a gray T-shirt and comfortably ripped-around-the-knee jeans, but his dark hair stood up wildly in all directions. It was such a change from his usual emo-boy fringe I began to get a bad feeling. “He
always
checks when there’s a wulf on guard. Don’t trust us.”

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