A Local Habitation
Page 60
It was getting harder to think about anything but kissing him. Dimly, I understood that if this didn’t stop now, it wasn’t going to stop at all. We’d wind up going places I didn’t want to go, and I’d say yes every step along the way.
Mustering what control I had left, I pulled back, only half-pretending the need to catch my breath. He loosened his grip, and I twisted my head to the side until I couldn’t see his eyes before biting down hard on my tongue. Blood filled my mouth, washing away the clover and coffee, and suddenly I could think again.
Alex pulled away from me, sensing the danger in my sudden stiffness, and I shoved him back as hard as I could. For the second time, he went stumbling into the tree; this time, he stayed where he was, watching me warily, not advancing.
“You bastard!” I drew Dare’s knife from my belt, holding it in front of me. I didn’t intend to use it, but I didn’t want him coming near me again. “What are you?”
“Toby . . .” His eyes flicked from me to the blade and back again. “It isn’t . . .”
“Shut up.” Showing an unexpected degree of self-preservation, he did as he was told. I narrowed my eyes. “Now, I’m asking you again. What are you?”
“Scared,” he said, softly. “I’m scared, Toby. I want someone to hold me and say it’s going to be all right. Don’t you want that, too? Just for a little while?”
For a moment, he almost had me. Then I swallowed, blood coating my tongue, and he lost me again. “Not like this. Never like this. Is this some sort of game? Do you and your sister try this routine on everyone who comes here? What kind of glamour are you using?” I was shaking, and not entirely from anger. Part of me wanted to dive right back into his arms, but I wasn’t giving in.
He sighed, seeming to deflate. “It’s not a glamour, exactly. I’m sorry. We can’t help it. It just . . . comes naturally.”
“And the way you act? Kissing me? That comes naturally, too?” Whatever bloodline they descended from, I never wanted to meet a pureblood.
“It does. Toby, believe me, this isn’t something I do to every woman who comes along. I really like you. And—”
“Don’t talk to me. You make me sick. And tell your sister that if she touches Quentin—if she comes near him—we’re leaving. Sylvester will understand when I tell him why. You got that?”
Paling, he nodded.
“Just so we understand each other. What are you?”
“Toby . . .”
“What are you?”
“Please.”
I looked at him for a moment before sliding my knife back into my belt. “If that’s the way you want it. I’ll ask Jan. Now go find your sister and stay with her. I don’t want you anywhere near the rest of us.”
He looked at me bleakly. For a moment, I thought he was going to argue—but the moment passed, and he turned, walking inside without another word. I waited until he was gone before sitting down hard on the grass, sticking my head between my knees. The world seemed to be spinning with a nauseating mix of adrenaline and magically induced attraction. What had I been thinking?
That was an easy one to answer: I hadn’t been thinking at all. Alex had been doing it for me. If it hadn’t been for the blood, I might not have figured it out. I might have just gone along, thinking it was my own idea. I shuddered and shook the thought away, lifting my head.
Half a dozen cats had appeared on the lawn around me, watching me with unblinking eyes. “What?” I demanded. They didn’t reply. Taking a slow breath, I stood, catching myself against the nearest tree when the world spun around me.
I was so tired I didn’t even want to think, but that didn’t matter; Alex wouldn’t come near me again, and I was pretty sure he’d warn Terrie away from Quentin. They had to be at least that smart, and for the moment, I needed to put them aside and get back to work.
Connor and Quentin looked up when I stepped back into the cafeteria. Quentin paled while Connor bolted to his feet, crossing the floor in five huge, ground-eating steps. “Toby? What happened? You’re bleeding!”
It was too much. People were dead, Sylvester wasn’t letting me get Quentin out of harm’s way, I hadn’t slept in over a day, and we didn’t have a vehicle capable of getting us out under our own power. No matter how I looked at things, we were screwed.
I put my arms around Connor, put my head on his shoulder, and cried. He raised one hand to stroke my hair, somewhat unsteadily. I saw Quentin out of the corner of my eye, pretending not to see us. That’s another thing they teach courtiers young: discretion.
It took a few minutes for me to get control of myself. I straightened, wiping my eyes and sniffling. I’m not pretty when I cry. My nose goes red and the skin around my eyes gets puffy. Mom gave me blood magic, Dad gave me the ability to cry myself into disreputability.
“You okay?” asked Connor. “Do you need to sit down? Or put an ice pack on your lip?” He paused, expression darkening. “It was that Alex guy, wasn’t it? Did he hit you?”
The image of Connor going off to avenge my honor was just ludicrous enough to kill the urge to cry again. I giggled helplessly instead, moving to sit down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs before my giggles turned into full-fledged laughter. Quentin and Connor watched with wide eyes and almost matching baffled expressions, which just made me laugh harder.
“Does she do this often?” asked Quentin, cautiously.
“Not often, no,” said Connor. “Toby? Does that mean I don’t need to go hit him?”
“He’s six inches taller than you,” I managed, between gales of laughter. “He’d smash you.”
“Yes, but I’d be smashed with honor,” said Connor.
That set me off again, and it was several minutes before I calmed down enough to clear my throat, wipe my eyes again, and say, “Okay, guys, serious now.”
“Serious,” said Quentin, still eyeing me with suspicion, like he expected me to burst into a new flavor of hysterics at any second.
“Alex didn’t hit me.” Connor relaxed, only to tense again when I said, “I hit myself.”
“Toby . . .”
“I needed the blood.” I looked between them. “Look, I don’t know what he and his sister are—he managed to talk me out of making him tell me—but whatever it is, they’ve got some sort of fucked-up glamour going on, and it’s a strong one. I nearly had to chew a hole through my tongue to keep myself from—” Going off with him and not showing back up until morning. “—kissing him. Even though I knew I didn’t want to.”
Mustering what control I had left, I pulled back, only half-pretending the need to catch my breath. He loosened his grip, and I twisted my head to the side until I couldn’t see his eyes before biting down hard on my tongue. Blood filled my mouth, washing away the clover and coffee, and suddenly I could think again.
Alex pulled away from me, sensing the danger in my sudden stiffness, and I shoved him back as hard as I could. For the second time, he went stumbling into the tree; this time, he stayed where he was, watching me warily, not advancing.
“You bastard!” I drew Dare’s knife from my belt, holding it in front of me. I didn’t intend to use it, but I didn’t want him coming near me again. “What are you?”
“Toby . . .” His eyes flicked from me to the blade and back again. “It isn’t . . .”
“Shut up.” Showing an unexpected degree of self-preservation, he did as he was told. I narrowed my eyes. “Now, I’m asking you again. What are you?”
“Scared,” he said, softly. “I’m scared, Toby. I want someone to hold me and say it’s going to be all right. Don’t you want that, too? Just for a little while?”
For a moment, he almost had me. Then I swallowed, blood coating my tongue, and he lost me again. “Not like this. Never like this. Is this some sort of game? Do you and your sister try this routine on everyone who comes here? What kind of glamour are you using?” I was shaking, and not entirely from anger. Part of me wanted to dive right back into his arms, but I wasn’t giving in.
He sighed, seeming to deflate. “It’s not a glamour, exactly. I’m sorry. We can’t help it. It just . . . comes naturally.”
“And the way you act? Kissing me? That comes naturally, too?” Whatever bloodline they descended from, I never wanted to meet a pureblood.
“It does. Toby, believe me, this isn’t something I do to every woman who comes along. I really like you. And—”
“Don’t talk to me. You make me sick. And tell your sister that if she touches Quentin—if she comes near him—we’re leaving. Sylvester will understand when I tell him why. You got that?”
Paling, he nodded.
“Just so we understand each other. What are you?”
“Toby . . .”
“What are you?”
“Please.”
I looked at him for a moment before sliding my knife back into my belt. “If that’s the way you want it. I’ll ask Jan. Now go find your sister and stay with her. I don’t want you anywhere near the rest of us.”
He looked at me bleakly. For a moment, I thought he was going to argue—but the moment passed, and he turned, walking inside without another word. I waited until he was gone before sitting down hard on the grass, sticking my head between my knees. The world seemed to be spinning with a nauseating mix of adrenaline and magically induced attraction. What had I been thinking?
That was an easy one to answer: I hadn’t been thinking at all. Alex had been doing it for me. If it hadn’t been for the blood, I might not have figured it out. I might have just gone along, thinking it was my own idea. I shuddered and shook the thought away, lifting my head.
Half a dozen cats had appeared on the lawn around me, watching me with unblinking eyes. “What?” I demanded. They didn’t reply. Taking a slow breath, I stood, catching myself against the nearest tree when the world spun around me.
I was so tired I didn’t even want to think, but that didn’t matter; Alex wouldn’t come near me again, and I was pretty sure he’d warn Terrie away from Quentin. They had to be at least that smart, and for the moment, I needed to put them aside and get back to work.
Connor and Quentin looked up when I stepped back into the cafeteria. Quentin paled while Connor bolted to his feet, crossing the floor in five huge, ground-eating steps. “Toby? What happened? You’re bleeding!”
It was too much. People were dead, Sylvester wasn’t letting me get Quentin out of harm’s way, I hadn’t slept in over a day, and we didn’t have a vehicle capable of getting us out under our own power. No matter how I looked at things, we were screwed.
I put my arms around Connor, put my head on his shoulder, and cried. He raised one hand to stroke my hair, somewhat unsteadily. I saw Quentin out of the corner of my eye, pretending not to see us. That’s another thing they teach courtiers young: discretion.
It took a few minutes for me to get control of myself. I straightened, wiping my eyes and sniffling. I’m not pretty when I cry. My nose goes red and the skin around my eyes gets puffy. Mom gave me blood magic, Dad gave me the ability to cry myself into disreputability.
“You okay?” asked Connor. “Do you need to sit down? Or put an ice pack on your lip?” He paused, expression darkening. “It was that Alex guy, wasn’t it? Did he hit you?”
The image of Connor going off to avenge my honor was just ludicrous enough to kill the urge to cry again. I giggled helplessly instead, moving to sit down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs before my giggles turned into full-fledged laughter. Quentin and Connor watched with wide eyes and almost matching baffled expressions, which just made me laugh harder.
“Does she do this often?” asked Quentin, cautiously.
“Not often, no,” said Connor. “Toby? Does that mean I don’t need to go hit him?”
“He’s six inches taller than you,” I managed, between gales of laughter. “He’d smash you.”
“Yes, but I’d be smashed with honor,” said Connor.
That set me off again, and it was several minutes before I calmed down enough to clear my throat, wipe my eyes again, and say, “Okay, guys, serious now.”
“Serious,” said Quentin, still eyeing me with suspicion, like he expected me to burst into a new flavor of hysterics at any second.
“Alex didn’t hit me.” Connor relaxed, only to tense again when I said, “I hit myself.”
“Toby . . .”
“I needed the blood.” I looked between them. “Look, I don’t know what he and his sister are—he managed to talk me out of making him tell me—but whatever it is, they’ve got some sort of fucked-up glamour going on, and it’s a strong one. I nearly had to chew a hole through my tongue to keep myself from—” Going off with him and not showing back up until morning. “—kissing him. Even though I knew I didn’t want to.”
