Lili St Crow - Defiance

I wished she was right beside me, kind of. It would’ve been nice. It would’ve been even nicer if Graves was right next to me, slinking along quietly, that sarcastic little smile on his face and . . .

God, will you just stop it? Sticking the knife in.

The double doors were quiet when I put my hand against them. I extended the fingers of the touch, didn’t feel anyone breathing outside. Still clear. No little static-laden pools of don’t look here that would have meant a teacher or one of the guys meant to watch me. Graves’s coat brushed my ankles. I could kind of see why he wore it everywhere. It was armor between me and the world. Like a snail’s shell. There were plenty of pockets, too. I didn’t want to stash anything in here—it felt like putting stuff in someone else’s purse, you know? You just don’t .

But I could see where a kid who liked to be prepared for anything would find it comforting. I might even invest in one of these coats if— when —we got him back.

Except we might not. It’s been weeks, you can’t track him, and going out there to get him isn’t a good idea. Everyone keeps telling you that.

I was getting to the point where I wasn’t sure how much of what everyone was telling me was in Graves’s best interest. Or mine.

The hall outside was dark. Marble busts glowered across the hall at each other, perched on their carved pedestals. I waited a little bit, breathing softly and making sure. Then I slipped out and headed for the stairs at the end.

From there, it would be a short crisscross and a dash across one of the quads, and I could hook around and find the little copse of trees where I’d lost Graves’s trail last time. With his earring and his coat, I stood a better chance of seeing something. Getting some kind of clue.

It couldn’t hurt. And seriously, if I had to stay up in that room and just pace until Nathalie came to check on me, I’d go nuts. Out here, with Graves’s coat making that familiar whispering sound, I could pretend I was Goth Boy, stretching my legs to imitate his loping, gangly stride. It was just one step from the pretending to the seeing, and if I was patient enough, it would happen.

If it didn’t, well, I’d just keep trying. At least it was something I could do .

What was that? A noise, behind me?

I shot a nervous glance over my shoulder. The hall was deserted, the marble busts absolutely still between falls of dusty velvet. Still, something was off. Anxiety tightened my stomach into a squirming ball. It was ruining my concentration.

I sped up a little, but that didn’t help either. I took another glance over my shoulder. Nothing in the hall but dim dusty shadows.

When I turned back around, Christophe was suddenly there .

I actually flinched and let out a strangled shriek. I backpedaled furiously, almost tripping on the coat’s long hem. He moved in on me with spooky darting speed. Herding me, just the way I hated. I ended up with my back against the wood paneling right next to a long curtain of faded red velvet. He’d backed me right up into the wall.

He kept coming until he was nose to nose with me. A warm draft of apple-pie scent touched my face, and his eyes glowed bright blue in the dark.

“Jesus!” All my breath jolted away, leaving me starving for air. I felt like I’d been caught sneaking out my bedroom window.

Kind of funny, because I had .

Christophe studied me. I wasn’t used to anyone getting this close, or staring into my eyes like they wanted to read the wrinkles on my brain. Plus, he was probably not happy with me. I didn’t need the touch to tell me that.

I slid to my left, instinctively, wanting to get away, but his hand darted forward and spread on the wall next to my shoulder. His other hand did the same, and now I was practically in his arms.

Wait, isn’t he mad at me? I froze, trying to think of what to do next. No good. Body buzzing like a lightning rod. Brain vapor-locked.

“I think we should talk.” The aspect slid through him briefly, his fangs peeking out from under his top lip, halting, and retreating.

“Um,” was my totally profound response. “Uh, Christophe—” Jesus. Did he have to follow me everywhere ?

“Have I been in any way unclear?” Quietly, as if he was asking me for a cup of coffee.

Huh? “Uh, what? Look, Christophe, I—”

He leaned in even further, and his nose touched my hair. He inhaled, deeply, and the flush that went through was so incredibly hot I was amazed my clothes didn’t start smoking. The apple-pie smell wrapped around me, and I wondered if it came from him drinking human blood.

My own teeth tingled at the thought, right down to their roots. The bloodhunger turned over inside my bones, uneasy.

Oh, God.

When he spoke, warm breath tickled my hair and touched my ear. “Have I been in any way unclear about my feelings?”

What the hell? I could barely get enough air in. Graves’s coat was way too big, but it was suddenly feeling heavy and uncomfortable. “I, um. I . . . Christophe, what?”

“Skowroneczko moja.” His right hand slid up the outside of my shoulder, along Graves’s coat, and he was touching my hair as well as breathing in my ear. All the blood sort of rushed to my head and made a sound like pulsing static. “I won’t push, and I don’t pry. All I ask is a little attention. A little consideration.”

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.