Ann Aguirre - Mortal Danger

Wow, he’s really tense.

I faced my reflection. From the graceful curve of my shoulders to the flat, toned stomach, the mirror showed me a body I didn’t recognize and the change was startling, frightening even. Normal weight loss would’ve given me a chance to get used to being lighter by increments, but I had to get accustomed to all at once. It would take me a while to assimilate my new shape. By societal standards, I definitely qualified as pretty, but it felt like I was looking at a stranger, one whose body I had snatched. Deliberately I turned away. There were a couple of pairs of jeans, one plain, the other spangled with rips and faded spots. Though I’d never worn anything so stylish, I pulled them out of the pile and checked the size.

“Right.” I huffed out a skeptical sigh.

Still, my old pants didn’t fit, so why not try? I eased them up over my hips, thighs, and then buttoned them. They fit skinny, but they fit. No way. Euphoria sparkled through me, a low-grade fizz in my veins as I rummaged through the tops. I chose a black baby-doll T-shirt with white Japanese characters and a pink dot in the middle of the design. This time I didn’t check the size before I pulled it on. Shifting, I assessed myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

Incredible.

Taking a deep breath, I popped the door open before I could lose my nerve. Kian stopped, arrested in his progress across the front room. His gaze swept me from head to toe, and then he offered an approving nod.

“Obviously I think you look amazing or I would’ve kept working. But it’s more important what you think.”

“Perfect. I wouldn’t have been able to say, this is what I want, but you knew.”

“I’m good at seeing the potential,” he said quietly. “You have any pain?”

“A little. Nothing dramatic.”

“There may be a little blood, nothing to worry about. It’s a result of the internal shifting I had to do.”

I froze. “ Blood? Like … where?”

“I had some when I brushed my teeth afterward, sometimes. And … in the bathroom. You know.”

The toilet? Oh my God. My parents would rush me to the hospital. “You swear it’s not indicative of hemorrhaging or something?”

“No, it’s definitely not. It’s just a reaction to the procedure. It’ll ease back as your body adapts to the transformation.”

“Okay. You haven’t lied to me so far, though ‘some pain’ was a massive understatement. It felt like my whole face was on fire.”

“Worth it, though, right?”

I smoothed my hands down my sides and thrilled at the way his green gaze followed the movement. “Definitely.”

“I’m glad you passed out. It’s pretty awful for people with a higher pain tolerance. They scream the whole time.”

“Which is why you bring them out here to the middle of nowhere.”

To my surprise, Kian shook his head. “I never bring clients here, Edie. There’s a soundproof room at headquarters set aside for this kind of thing.”

“But … I’m here.”

He ducked his head. The copper strands in his hair shone against the black, giving him a burnished look in the morning light. His thick tangle of lashes hid his devastating green eyes, but it was easier for me to ignore his beauty, knowing he’d broken the rules for me. I could look at him and see him. From certain angles, I could almost imagine what he’d looked like before someone set burning fingertips to his face and cut away the flaws. That mental image made him seem much more human, less the divine being who’d plucked me off the bridge. I preferred seeing him as a person, not a god.

His silence wasn’t an answer. “Kian. If this isn’t protocol, why am I here?”

“I was afraid the people at headquarters would freak you out.” By the way his eyes shifted away from mine, that wasn’t the whole truth.

“Bullshit.”

This time, he met my stare head on. “I wanted more time with you.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Not really.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Just forget it, okay? And before you ask, no, I didn’t do anything weird to your unconscious body.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” I’d be sore in different places if he had, and while my muscles burned, there was no pain down below.

“So let’s get going.”

“Wait.” I moved toward him and put a hand on his arm. “Do you mean you like me? In a normal way. Nothing to do with deals or bargains or favors?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. There are rules.”

“The answer matters to me .”

“For all the good it does either of us, yes, I do. I did before.” Bitterness colored his voice, his expression, and I didn’t understand why. He’d wished for the same thing . Why did he seem to mind changing me for the better?

“Nobody liked me before,” I said. “So thank you.”

He ignored my gratitude. Maybe I wouldn’t want it, either. I tried to put myself in his shoes. How would I feel about the people I met, who were so broken they had been ready to die when I stepped in? It wouldn’t be wise to get attached to somebody like that, I thought. Even worse, when you were that somebody. No wonder he’s pulling back, minimizing the mistake of showing this much favoritism. Whatever his motive, I appreciated that he hadn’t brought me to headquarters. Intuition told me I wasn’t ready to be thrown into the deep end, especially since I wasn’t a very good swimmer.

I got out my cell phone, checked the time, compared it with the East Coast, and decided it had been long enough to seem credible that my plane had landed. I texted, Safe and sound on the ground. Thanks for letting me do this.

My mom replied, We’re proud of you. Have fun, Edith.

In silence, Kian emptied my backpack and filled it with the things he’d gotten. “There’s a gift card in the front zip compartment. You’ll have time to buy more clothes before classes start in the morning.”

“Oh.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “You said we’d go, before.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s not a good idea. You don’t need me with you.”

But I want you there. I didn’t say it aloud. Ever fiber of me knew it was a bad idea to get attached to him. He was like a caseworker, almost.

“All right, thanks. I’ll register, drop my bag off at the dorm, and go shopping, I guess.” I couldn’t believe I’d just spoken those words voluntarily.

“You ready?” A figurative shutter came down in his expression; he was ready to get on with his work.

“Yep.”

There was nothing personal about his hand on mine, just a link required to port me on to the last leg in our journey. We emerged in a quiet corner of what must be the quad. A tangle of branches veiled the grass in filtered green light. Kian let go of me and pushed clear from the foliage.

He pointed, his tone all efficiency. “Registration is in that building. Head over and they can take it from here.”

“Can I call if I need you?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “But you won’t. You need to get used to your new look and develop the confidence to demolish the assholes at Blackbriar, come fall.”

I took his point. If I called him constantly, that wasn’t self-assurance; psychology books would call it codependence. To hide my nervousness, I joked, “It’s also to keep my parents from having a heart attack. I hope the summer’s long enough for them to believe—”

“Don’t worry.” He softened a little. “Parents always want to believe their kids are beautiful. It won’t seem like a stretch when the time comes, I promise.”