by Deanna Chase
Smoothest. Line. Ever.
He snorted and she blushed.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she rocked back on her heels. What now? How were they supposed to act?
“Do you have any more side effects from the bite?” he asked.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to say her heart dropped. Stupid, but she’d hoped he’d rush up and grab her again. Kiss her. Make her forget everything but them.
She shook her head. “You mean besides my mad monkey skills?”
Laughing, he nodded. “Do you want blood? To bite?”
I want to bite you.
Would it be bad if she said that out loud? Probably. She shook her head. “That’s gross. I want candy. Sugar. Food.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a small baggie and tossed it at her. Snatching it out of the air, she frowned as she glanced down at it. It wasn’t Valentine’s Day, but somehow he’d managed to find a bag of heart-shaped candies.
Fighting the grin, she tore it open and pulled one out. “I love you,” she said and glanced at him, holding up the candy for his inspection.
For a second, he stood completely still, like a statue. But it didn’t last. “That’s what they all say, princess.” His insolent tone and swagger were back.
Narrowing her eyes, she snarled and then chomped down on it. “Whatever.”
Glancing at his watch, he jerked his head toward the direction of the car. “We’re about a mile away from the car, probably should head back if you want to get home in time.”
Had she really run that far?
Neither of them spoke, but they kept doing the awkward glancing dance. One would look up, then down, and the other would look up, then down.
And when they got in the car, it was even worse for Flint. She couldn’t stop looking at his lap, at the wheel, and remembering what they’d done.
What she’d done.
What she still wanted to do.
Taking the corner of her lip between her teeth, Flint turned to stare out the window. The air was charged, sort of like it sometimes felt after a heavy lightning storm. And it wasn’t just her; she felt Cain’s eyes like a brand and heard the constant tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel.
The scenery gradually became more and more familiar until she finally spied her apartment. Katy was already there, her black car parked in its customary spot. Her heart sank.
Cain pulled into the slot next to Katy’s and parked. Finally Flint looked at him—his jaw was clenched and the muscle flexing sharply.
Frowning, she grabbed her book bag. What should she say? Thanks. Bye. See you later. But it all felt lame and standoffish; then again, maybe that’s what he wanted. Hating the uncertainty, she huffed.
“What’s going on here?” Her words came out soft.
With a last heavy sigh, he looked at her, and within the depths of his deep blue eyes, she saw something that looked suspiciously like tenderness. Which of course only made her heart act all sorts of crazy and girly and perfect.
“I should stay away,” he said, but his actions didn’t match his words as he reached out and gently wound a strand of her hair around his finger. “Being with me, around me, it’s dangerous for you. I can’t always control myself.”
She grabbed his hand, threading her fingers through his and squeezing. “You did fine earlier.”
He shook his head. “This time. I was close, Flint.”
“To what?”
“When a berserker flips, we can’t see things right. We don’t feel anything but the hunger to hurt.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he licked his front teeth. “Why do you think my mom looks like she does?”
“Adam.”
Nodding, he opened his eyes. “He poured a gallon of acid on her once. He was lost in one of his rages. I know he loves her, and he didn’t mean it. But it happened. You should leave, princess. And don’t look back.”
Maybe he was right, but she didn’t believe it. Cain was stronger than he thought himself. She didn’t know why Adam had done that to Layla, but she wasn’t Cain’s mom. Flint could climb like a monkey, run like a gazelle. If she had to run away, she was sure she could.
But honestly, she wasn’t sure it would ever come to that. Not that she had any basis for her theory, more a gut feeling.
“I should do a lot of things,” she whispered. “But usually I don’t.”
His lips twitched and she reached out her finger to touch the corner of his mouth. He stilled, closing his eyes, and inhaled. “I’ve tried so hard to stay away,” he admitted so quietly she wasn’t sure he’d meant to say it aloud.
A sharp rap on the door startled them, and for a second Flint felt Cain’s arm twitch, the muscles flex. She patted his bare arm absently as Cain rolled down the window to reveal her father with his eyebrows raised and glaring daggers at them.
“Cain,” he said with a no-nonsense voice that meant she was in serious trouble.
There went her “I was studying” excuse. He’d never believe her now.
Then he turned his frosty eyes on her. “Flint, we’ll talk later. Get in the house, young lady.”
Wincing, humiliated…. she turned to Cain and gave him a tight smile. “Gotta bail. See you tomorrow?”
Nodding, he looked back at her father. “We were just studying, didn’t realize how much time had passed.”
Her dad wasn’t buying it. His arms were crossed over his robust chest and his lips were pursed as he said, “I’m sure.”
Figuring it would be best to absent herself as quickly as possible, Flint got out of the car and marched upstairs without looking back, emotions a wild mess because she knew that thanks to her father’s timing, he’d ruined what would have been the perfect kiss.
Then she felt his angry presence behind her. “Young lady, I’m disappointed in you. You knew we had company.”
“Dad, I—” She turned to him, catching a brief glimpse of Cain disappearing down the road.
“Not right now.” He hushed her with a flick of his wrist, “I’m so angry I could spit and would probably say something I’d regret later. You get your butt in that house, wash up, and be nice!” He snarled the last, then without another word marched past her and into the apartment.
~*~
Katy’s eyes were pinned to Flint’s face, enough so that it made her squirm in her seat as she twirled the pasta around her fork.
Bright red lips curled into a feminine pout. “How’s school, Flint?” Katy asked.
Like she cared.
It was insane that she got so angry, but Flint couldn’t deny the irritating buzz churning through her gut whenever Katy tried to act all domestic. This wasn’t her home and she wasn’t Katy’s daughter.
Her father sighed, setting his fork down.
Giving a tight smile, Flint nodded. “Fine.”
“Flint.” Her father’s voice was rough with annoyance.
Katy placed a hand on his arm and patted it gently. “It’s okay, Frank.”
Remembering that she was skating a fine line with him at the moment, Flint put on a brave face. She loved her father, she really did. Looking Katy square in the face, she nodded. “Doing okay, but it could be better.”
“Yeah.” Katy twirled a long length of pasta around her fork. “How so?”
Frank relaxed infinitesimally. If this made him happy, then Flint was happy to dance.
“Mr. Wickham, my chem teacher, says I need to boost my grade a little.”
Her dad narrowed his eyes and she gave him a small smile, one that she hoped said “it’s not that bad, really” instead of “I’m failing miserably.” He eyed Flint for a second longer before returning to the task of eating.
Stomach a mess of nerves, Flint exhaled. “So he’s asked me to help with the setup and takedown for homecoming.”
Katy’s head was cocked, and Flint finally noticed that her smile was no longer open and engaging, but tight and serious. “Mr. Wickham? Interesting last name.”
Frank looked at K
aty. “You know him?” he asked, the fork dangling loosely in his hand.
She shrugged and fluffed her brown curls. “Maybe.” She turned to Flint. “Does he wear glasses and have a youngish face?”
Flint nodded, wondering at Katy’s sudden interest. “Yeah.”
“Hmm.” Katy took a sip of wine. Then her entire demeanor changed again and her smile was screwed back into place. “Think he might be the guy that works the coffee shop where I live on the weekends. Like I said, interesting last name.”
That was weird. Flint returned back to her plate, wondering why it felt like Katy had just thrown out a convenient excuse. Her dad must have been thinking the same because he’d stopped eating (which for him to stop eating a plate of pasta with red sauce was tantamount to aliens landing and saying “take me to your leader”—it just didn’t happen) and was looking at Katy with a question burning in his eyes.
“So,” Katy said, “homecoming, that’s exciting. Got a date?”
Frank scratched his head. “A date. No, not Flinty. Right, wait…” His face scrunched up. “Do you?”
Seeing her father’s reaction made Flint’s lips twitch. He could be so adorably clueless sometimes. In his head, he probably still pictured her as the girl in pigtails who liked to make mud pies in the backyard and pick up frogs.
“Actually, no.” Stabbing at her noodles, Flint tried to ignore the sick twist in her heart. Cain probably wasn’t going to ask her. She was pretty sure if he’d meant to, he would have by now.
“Good.”
Flint stared at Katy’s raised brows.
“Because then you’ll have more fun. No drama wondering if he likes you, or what he expects afterward…”
Frank cleared his throat.
Katy laughed. “Anyway.” She waved her hand. “I was so sure Cain was going to ask you. I see how that boy looks at you.”
Heat crept hot fingers up her neck. Bringing up Cain was not a good idea right now.
And sure enough, her father glowered, his face going as crimson as hers felt. “That boy better not even try.”
“Dad!” Flint cried. “You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.” He set his fork down, pushing half his plate away.
Throwing an accusing glance at Katy, Flint locked her jaw. Katy refused to look up, still eating her noodles as if nothing had happened.
She’d done it on purpose. Somehow, Flint knew that.
“What if he asks me?”
“Then you say no.” Frank lifted his brow.
“Daddy, please. You’re being unreasonable. You don’t even—”
“Know him?” He cocked his head, finishing her sentence. “I don’t need to—I know all about boys like that. He asks, you say no. End of discussion.” He sliced his hand through the air.
Full-on glowering now, Flint tossed her napkin on the table.
“So where are you going to get a dress?” Katy asked, glancing between a father and daughter’s frosty stare-down.
Her anger so hot it burned her gut, Flint turned to stare at her. “Don’t know,” she managed through clenched teeth.
“You got money?” her dad asked as he reached into his back pocket.
What the heck? Okay, bad enough that Katy felt the need to insert herself into Flint’s private life. If her father wanted to be with Katy, not like she’d stop him, but for Katy to think she could do what she just did and then things go back to chummy… and not only that, but her dad suddenly acting as if he hadn’t just turned all dictator on her, was just flat-out nuts.
Something really weird was happening, and Flint didn’t like it at all.
“No,” she grumbled.
Her dad tossed her two one-hundred-dollar bills. “Let me know if you need more. When you going shopping, by the way?”
Flint eyed the cash lying crinkled in the center of the table. “Ja and Rhi are taking me to the mall soon.”
He nodded. “Baby,” he said more softly, “I hope you understand. I do love you. I just don’t care for that boy. Something’s not right with him.”
Snatching the cash before he could change his mind, Flint shoved it into her pocket. “Okay.”
He lifted his brows at her wooden response. It was either that or act like a royal witch, and she loved her dad enough to try to keep her temper curbed. But it was taking every ounce of inner strength she had not to hiss and rant and rave like an idiot, or an adolescent teenager in her case.
Staring blankly at her plate, Flint tried to ignore them the rest of the dinner.
But toward the end, she couldn’t take any more walks down memory lane as Katy told yet another prom horror story.
Dad was laughing, drinking the last of his second glass of red wine, and Flint finally reached her threshold. Plastering on a fake smile, she said, “It was really great catching up with you again, Katy.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits.
“But I have a lot of homework today.” And that was true. She was way behind on papers and assignments.
Running his fingers through his hair, her dad nodded. A few strands in the front poked up at odd angles, and Katy smoothed them down. Jerking to her feet, Flint grabbed her book bag. The whole thing made her sick.
She hated Katy. Flint wasn’t even really sure why. On the surface, Katy was pretty perfect. A great flier, a lifelong circus performer… she understood the life, and there couldn’t be anyone better for her dad at this point.
But that was the problem. Everything about her was too perfect. Like an actor, polished but fake.
Shoving all that to the back of her mind, Flint did something she hadn’t done in weeks. Studied. Really studied. She was halfway through her last paper when there was a gentle tap on the door.
“Come in,” she called, never glancing up. “Hey Dad, almost done. Sorry about—”
“Actually, Flint…” Katy’s voice made her snap her head up. “It’s me.”
Rolling her eyes, Flint dropped her pencil.
Katy frowned. “Look, sorry about what happened back there. I didn’t expect Frank to go all ballistic the way he did.”
“Didn’t you?” she snarled, grateful Katy had shut the door behind her. “Because it sure seemed like you did. You must have known he caught us out in the parking lot.”
Katy shrugged. “I really didn’t. I felt bad and wanted to tell you that.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Flint sighed as she felt the end of the mattress depress under Katy’s slight weight. Glancing over her shoulder quickly, she whispered. “Look, I know things, okay. And I’m just asking you to be careful of that boy. That’s all.”
Pulse thundering so hard in her ears she was amazed Katy couldn’t hear it, Flint cocked her head. “What do you know?”
Licking her lips, Katy studied Flint’s face for what felt like forever. So much passed between them in that moment: truth… clarity… insight. The mask that was Katy, the one Flint sensed all the time, was gone. In its place, she saw the same beautiful woman but one with less laugh lines and more frowns. Worry gnawed at her forehead.
“I can’t tell you more than I have. But…” She grabbed Flint’s hand and brought it to her lap, holding on tight. “Believe me when I say all is not what it seems.”
Fear coated Flint’s tongue. Not because of what Katy said—Flint already knew all that. She knew what Cain was, what Adam and Janet were… but because Katy was definitely more than human if she knew that too.
She searched the woman’s eyes, looking for the red lines, and inhaled harder, trying to detect any hint of sour milk, but it wasn’t there.
“Like what?” Flint asked, feigning ignorance.
Katy cocked her head. “There is a war being waged, Flint DeLuca. An age-old battle of good versus evil.”
“Katy?” her father called out just before knocking on Flint’s door.
“Here,” Katy cried and released Flint’s hand, standing and nodding as if they had an understanding.
For h
er part, Flint could only stare, too numb to say anything else as Katy walked out of the room.
But the one thought that kept popping into her head was how did Katy know? And did her father know too?
The questions kept hammering in her mind later on that night. Katy had long since left, her father had returned and grounded her from ever being alone with Cain, and all the lights were off as he slept in the next room over.
Flint stared at the ceiling, not sure what to do.
At 12:37 there was a tap on her window.
Shocked, she jerked up and stared out at the darkened night. Then her heart leapt into overdrive when Cain pointed at the window as if to say “open it.” Licking her lips, she made sure her bedroom door was locked before walking over to the window.
Somehow he managed to slip his big bulk through. And the second he was inside, it was like someone had sucked out all the oxygen. His smell was everywhere, pine and night, and so overwhelming she had to take a seat on the purple foldout mushroom chair next to her bed.
“Cain?” she whispered, glancing back at the door, both terrified and thrilled he’d come. “What are you doing here?”
He spread his hands. His full lips pursed into a straight line, then he shrugged and she gulped, suddenly very aware that she was wearing one of her sexier sleep shorts. The moment it dawned on her, he must have noticed because his eyes narrowed and a lick of red swirled at the centers.
Snatching her mother’s checkered lap blanket off her bed, she wrapped it around her legs as best she could. He blinked and then nodded. But he was breathing heavily.
“How was dinner?” he asked a moment later, his voice scratchy and rough, and it jolted through her body.
“My dad’s banned me from seeing you.”
“Why?”
She shrugged and picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “He thinks you’re bad for me.”
The left corner of his mouth lifted. “I am.” But he didn’t sound glum about it, more cocky than anything, and she couldn’t help but answer his grin.
Flint shook her head, shoving most of her hair behind her ear but playing with a strand. He sat on the corner of her bed, his presence filling the room so that she felt almost claustrophobic. But in a good way.
