Later that night, my skin still hums with warmth, glowing faintly from the day spent with Will.
I have the house to myself. Catherine stayed for dinner, but left just before Mom went to work, and then Tamra left for a study group. I’m reading
The scratching at my window begins subtly. It takes a moment to penetrate. At first I think it’s nothing more than a branch.
A chill runs through my skin. I slide off the bed, stare hard at the window between my bed and Tamra’s. In the low glow of lamplight, I make out a shadowy shape behind the blinds. Immediately, I envision Xander, imagining he knows the truth and is here to claim me. Not because Will told him, of course, but because Xander figured it out on his own.
Then, I think of the pride. Cassian. Severin.
I draw air deeply, expand my lungs. Remember that I’m no victim. “Who’s there?” I demand.
The sound at my window grows louder, like someone’s fighting with the screen. I hear a pop, then a vibrating jerk. The screen is off.
“Who’s there?” I repeat, smoke filling my mouth, puffing my cheeks, rushing from my lips in a cloudy gust. My back tingles. My wings move, crawl beneath my skin like beasts seeking escape.
The window slides open. The blinds rattle noisily, ripple with movement. My skin ripples, too. Heat rolls over my flesh in a current. I part my lips, ready to blow fire.
The blinds shove upward, and Will’s head pops inside. Those bright eyes lock on me. “Hey,” he breathes.
“Will!” I rush forward and hold the blinds so he can climb inside the room. “What are you doing? You gave me a heart attack.”
“I saw your sister leave, but figured I shouldn’t knock on the door. Is your mom here?”
“She’s at work.”
He grins, moves in, and wraps his arms loosely around me. “So I have you to myself.”
I smile, squeeze him back, loving that he misses me like I miss him. Even though we saw each other earlier today, I feel stronger with him here, the world not so scary and overwhelming.
We sit on the floor, our backs against my bed. Hands laced together, we talk. He tells me more about his family. About his cousins. All of them. Even his uncles and other cousins. But it’s Xander that worries me.
“Xander hates my guts,” Will comments.
“Why?”
Will pauses, and I feel the tension tighten his body. “My dad, my uncles…they favor me.”
“Why?”
He sighs, and there’s pain in the sound. “I don’t want to talk about—”
“Tell me,” I insist, determined to figure out this thing with Xander.
“I guess I’m better at certain stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” I ask, even as a whisper winds through me, warning me to stop, to end this line of questioning. That I don’t really want to know.
“I’m a better hunter, Jacinda.”
My hand stills in his. I stare down at it, marveling at my hand nestled so trustingly in his, and I feel a little sick. I try to tug it free. Because it’s just too much. How am I supposed to handle that?
He clamps down. “I don’t want to lie to you, Jacinda. I’m the best tracker in my family. It’s like I’m tuned in to your kind…. I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling I get whenever I’m close—”
I nod. It makes sense now. The way he reacted that day in the hall; it was like he felt me there before he even saw me. “It’s okay,” I murmur, and realize that I mean it. If this is part of the reason he’s drawn to me, I couldn’t hold it against him. Not when I crave him like oxygen for my starved lungs to keep my draki alive. “So that’s why your family needs you so much.”
“Yeah.” He nods, his honey brown hair tossing forward on his forehead. “But it never felt right. I never believed dragons, uh, draki, were dangerous creatures in need of killing. Not like my father wants me to think. Ever since I saw you in the mountains, I haven’t led them to any more draki. I can’t. I
I smile then and start to wonder if my coming here hadn’t been for this reason. For Will. For me. For my species everywhere.
Eventually, we get around to the question I hoped it would never occur to him to ask. Another matter I have not let myself think upon too much. Because I can’t stand the prospect.
“So what about life span?” His head drops back on the edge of the bed, watching me. “Is it true?” So calm. So easy. So natural. It’s always like this with him. Like he’s not asking me this. Not asking me for my expiration date. “You can live forever?”
“We’re not immortal.” I try to cough up a laugh. Fail. “We can’t live forever.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Still watching me with a calmness that doesn’t meet the bright gleam in his eyes. Because he knows. He knows that even if we’re not immortal, it’s not as simple as being mortal. “How long do you live?”
I wet my lips. “It’s different for everyone, of course—”
“How long?”
“Nidia, the oldest draki in our pride, is three hundred and eighty-seven.” For a flash of a second, he looks stricken. Then it’s gone. Cool neutrality back in its place. I quickly add, “That’s long. Really old for us. Not the norm. Two hundred…three hundred is a closer average.”
“Average,” he echoes.
I keep talking, like I can stop him from thinking about it…about the gulf my words build between us. Not that we don’t already have enough obstacles. “We think sheer will alone is keeping Nidia alive. She’s special to our pride. We need her too much, so she’s hanging on for us.” I laugh weakly, hating how quiet he is.
“So you won’t start looking old until…when?”
I shrug uneasily. “Well, we never really look…old.” Not “human” old, anyway.
“How old does this Nidia look?”
I bite my lip and lie. “Maybe fifty-five. Sixty.”
Not quite the truth. She looks closer to mid-forties, and that’s as old as I’ve seen any draki ever look. We simply don’t age the way a human does. My mom is only starting to age because she’s suppressed her draki for so long.
“So when I’m a silver-haired sixty-year-old you’ll look…?”
“Younger,” I say, my throat tight and aching. And not because he’ll look older or less beautiful. But because if I’m around, I will be able to
“Can we talk about something else?” I tear my hand from his to drag it through the impenetrable mass of my hair, hoping he doesn’t notice when I sneak in a rub at my eyes.
Right then, I hear the front door open and shut.
We scramble to our feet in a mad rush. Will’s out the window minutes before Tamra enters the room.
Sitting on my bed, I try to look casual, try not to glance at the window he disappeared through. Try not to think about our last words, the look on his face…the chill in my heart knowing he will die long before me.
I never let myself think about it before, never mulled over the distant prospect. But knowing what I do now — that
Forever won’t last that long for him.
27
I wake to the smell of coffee and bacon. I sniff deeper. No. Sausage. Definitely. And frying eggs.
