Red Dagger

by H G Lynch

  I found them both at their usual table after Biochem and cleared my throat. Both of them, and Ash, whipped their heads up and stared at me, startled by my presence at the end of their table. It felt as if every eye in the canteen was on me too, and I knew the other students were listening, waiting to see if there would be a fight, a dramatic break-up, or something else they could gawk at and gossip about.

  Suddenly uncomfortable with the audience, I leaned my palms on the table and murmured, “Angus, can I talk to you a minute?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Go ahead.”

  I glanced pointedly at the girls at the next table, who were openly staring. “In private. Please.”

  Angus sighed and stood up. Islay shot us both worried looks, although she didn’t quite meet my eyes. “Hey,” I said, “Don’t worry. We’re not going to fight. I just want to ask him something.”

  She nodded without looking up from the plate of apple slices in front of her. I hesitated a moment longer, willing her to meet my eyes, just once, just for a second. But she didn’t. Frustrated, I straightened and walked with Angus out of the canteen. I could practically hear the moans of disappointment from the gawking crowd that they wouldn’t get to hear what we being said. I smirked. Tough shit. This is none of their damn business.

  Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall opposite Angus, and pursed my lips, trying to think about how to say this in a way that wouldn’t get me a fist-sandwich. “Look, Angus—”

  “I know,” he cut in.

  I looked at him. “What?”

  He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and shrugged, staring off down the hallway instead of glaring at me. “The rumours. I know what they’re saying—”

  My stomach clenched. “Angus, I swear—”

  “I also know they’re not true.”

  My eyebrows shot up in surprise for the second time today. “You . . . do?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I believed them at first. I even tried to call Islay out on it.” He winced.

  I could only imagine how that conversation had gone. Probably with a lot more pain and yelling than the one we were having, which surprised me.

  “What did she say?” I asked quietly, warily. I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know. I could just imagine it. No, Angus, I would never sleep with your brother. He’s an idiot, and I’m in love with you. Please, take me to your bed and make love to me the way Ruairidh never could.

  Fuck. My mind just loved to torture me, didn’t it?

  “She convinced me there was nothing going on between you two. Said she was just your tutor, and that was it.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Still, I had a couple of things I needed to ask her. But I wasn’t going to do it there or then. I’d wait until our tutoring session on Saturday. I was showing up for it, even if she didn’t want me to.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ** Islay **

  Saturday morning, I decided to sleep in. Dad was taking the morning off work for once, so I was free to catch up on some sleep, since I’d been up till after one a.m. talking to Ashley on the phone. She wouldn’t shut up about Ruairidh, and she kept asking if I knew what his discussion with Angus had been about on Wednesday. I was starting to get annoyed, and she seemed to know it because she eventually changed the topic and started gushing about this hot singer in a band she’d just discovered.

  While she’d talked, I finished a couple tonnes of homework, and when my eyes would no longer stay open, I’d called it a night and promised to call Ash if anything interesting happened over the weekend. I was sincerely hoping it wouldn’t. I’d kill for a normal, totally boring weekend. One where I wasn’t teaching Ruairidh, babysitting my brother, or having awkward conversations with Angus.

  When my dad knocked on my bedroom door, I glanced at the clock and saw it was almost ten a.m. Still too early. I grunted and rolled over, mumbling, “Come in.”

  The door clicked as it opened, and I stuffed my face into my pillow, waiting for Dad tell me what he needed—waiting for him to say he was going to work after all, and ask could I take care of Peter. Instead, a voice that wasn’t my dad’s said, “Does your hair always look like a bird’s nest in a morning?”

  My eyes popped open, and I whipped around, staring at Ruairidh standing in my bedroom doorway, smirking. For a second, I thought I was dreaming, one of those totally inappropriate dreams. I had to admit, it wouldn’t be my first dream of Ruairidh, but then his words registered, and I realised this wasn’t a dream. He was always polite in my dreams—and shirtless.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, holding my duvet to my chest, even though I was decent enough underneath the covers, wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You dad let me in.”

  I shook my head, rubbing my eyes. I groaned. “My dad just let you into my bedroom while I was sleeping?”

  He shrugged. “Only after I told him I was Angus’s brother, and I was here for tutoring.”

  I slumped, closing my eyes. “Of course,” I muttered. Because Dad adored Angus, of course he would let anyone who claimed to be related to him waltz right in. He couldn’t possibly know that Ruairidh was the kind of guy he ought to be warning away from me with a baseball bat.

  Ruairidh cocked an eyebrow. “So, is my brother’s name like some sort of magical password to your bedroom? ‘Cause if it is—”

  I didn’t wait to see where he was going with that. Instead, I pointed at the open door. “Get out while I get dressed.”

  He pulled one of his cocky, sexy smiles and said, “Well that’s a waste. You know, I could teach you some things if you like, and you wouldn’t even have to get dressed . . . .”

  I threw a pillow at him. “Out!”

  Laughing, he ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him. I flopped back against the headboard and covered my face with my hands, cursing. So much for having a boring weekend.

  Once I was dressed in a conservative outfit—baggy jeans and a holey t-shirt—I found Ruairidh lingering in the hallway, prodding at a vase of fake lilies. When I stepped up next to him, he said, “I’ve never understood the point in fake flowers. Why not just get real ones?”

  “Because fake ones are better for ramming down the throats of uninvited guests,” I grumbled, stalking past him toward the stairs.

  “Wow. You’re grumpy today,” he replied, following me.

  “Probably because of the whole ‘uninvited guest’ thing,” I muttered, glaring at him.

  He just smiled. “It’s Saturday. I’m meant to be here for tutoring, remember?”

  “But I didn’t think you were coming this week.”

  He paused and stared at me. “Why not?”

  I thought of the rumours flying around school, and watching him and Angus retreat from the canteen to have a private conversation, probably about me, and my mood grew even darker. “Never mind.”

  He didn’t push, thankfully. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss the rumours with him. He probably found the whole thing hilarious.

  My Dad was in the kitchen, eating a bagel and keeping an eye on Peter as he played with a bowl of Cheerios, which were Peter’s current favourite food. Even though he just sucked on them until they were soggy and spat them back out. No milk; too much mess.

  Dad and I didn’t look much alike. He’d always said I looked like Mum and was lucky for it. His hair was dark blonde with hints of grey, and his eyes were the same colour as Peter’s but darker. He was leaning against the fridge, dressed for work in a clean blue shirt, black trousers, and a pair of Nike trainers. He peered at me over the edge of his rectangular glasses as I stalked into the room with Ruairidh trailing me like a shadow.

  “Morning, Izzy,” he greeted me, wiping a smudge of cream cheese from the corner of his mouth.

  I grunted and flapped my hand at him in gesture for him to move away from the fridge. The Coke was in there, with all its caffeinated, sugary goodness. Dad shift
ed aside and gave me a wry smile.

  “You’re a real ray of sunshine today, honey. Tone it down a bit, or I’m going to need to go get my sunglasses.”

  Ruairidh snorted, and I shot him a withering glare as I pulled a can of Coke out of the fridge. I took another one and lobbed it at Ruairidh. He caught it way too easily, and I scowled harder. I’d been hoping it might hit him in the head.

  Popping the top of my can, I turned my glare on Dad, who was polishing off his bagel. “For future reference, Dad, he,” I pointed at Ruairidh, “is not allowed a free pass to my room. Especially while I’m sleeping.”

  Dad nodded, a small smile still tugging at his lips. “Sorry, honey, I thought you’d be up by now.”

  I scoffed in exasperation and took a long glug of my Coke. From the corner of my eye, I caught him winking at Ruairidh, and I muttered, “I saw that.” Then I gestured to Ruairidh. “Come on, then. Let’s go teach you some Maths.”

  As I headed for the living room because no way was I letting him back into my room and asking for trouble, Dad called behind me, “Love you, honey. Don’t you two get up to any trouble, you hear me?”

  Don’t worry about that, Dad, I thought. That’s never going to happen.

  Too bad I didn’t believe that, not in the least.

  Dad left for work halfway through our tutoring session, but somehow he’d coaxed Mrs Wallis to take Peter for the afternoon, so I had one less thing to worry about. I think he felt guilty about leaving me alone all the time, and he was just happy to see me socialising, even if it was just to do Maths with a totally frustrating boy.

  After my dad was gone, Ruairidh got twitchy. He started drumming his fingers, running a hand through his hair, tapping his pencil on the table. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to the Maths anymore, and I leaned forward in my chair.

  “What’s on your mind, Ruairidh?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew.

  He dropped his pencil and sat back in his chair, his eyes darting over the table. It was the first time he hadn’t immediately looked me in the eye when I spoke to him, which only confirmed my suspicions of what this was about.

  Finally, he said, “About the rumours . . . .”

  I tipped my head back. Bingo. “I’d really rather not talk about it, Ruairidh. Please.”

  Now he looked at me, his eyes hard. “Why not?”

  I squirmed, looking away. “Because.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  I blew out my breath. God, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? Stubborn, cocky, sexy asshole. “Because they’re just rumours. You and I know the truth, and so does Angus, so it doesn’t matter.”

  He pursed his lips, his lip-ring glinting. “Judging from the way you’re blushing, I’d say it does matter,” he murmured.

  I put a hand to my face reflexively and cursed. Damn my blushing! I needed to figure out how to stop that. Ruairidh folded his arms on the table, and my eyes went to his tattooed forearm, following the intricate pattern up to the swell of his bicep.

  “Come on, Islay. Talk to me. What is it? Is it just that you don’t like people talking about you that way, or is it more than that? Is it about Angus? ‘Cause like you said, he knows the rumours aren’t true.”

  I couldn’t meet his gaze. I just couldn’t. I was afraid he’d see the truth in my eyes; that I was majorly attracted to him, that I liked him the way I thought I liked Angus, but without the years of friendship thrown in to muddy things up.

  When I didn’t answer him, he asked quietly, “Is it just that you can’t stand the idea of being with me like that? Because I’m not Angus. That’s it, right?”

  My eyes and cheeks burned. What was he trying to do? Make me admit I had feelings for him? Was he just toying with me like a cat with a mouse? I closed my eyes and whispered, “No. That’s not it.”

  “Then what?” he snapped. “Why won’t you look at me, Islay? Why were you hoping I wouldn’t show up today? Why were you talking about having sex with me to Ashley in your Psychology class?”

  My head whipped around, and I stared at him. “How did you know about that?” I whispered.

  His expression was hard, his eyes dark. He had his arms folded over his broad chest, his hair in his eyes, making him look fiercely dangerous.

  “That’s how the rumours started. You were overheard talking about it. Why would you be speaking about me like that, Islay? Huh?”

  The challenge in his voice, in his glare, had me working to calm the raging butterfly storm in my gut. Shit. This was not going well. I put my head in my hands. “I’m going to kill Ashley,” I muttered into my fingers. “This is all her fault.”

  “Oh, really? And why is that?” he sneered.

  I lifted my head and met his glare, even though it made me shrink inside. “Because she was the one who asked me what you were like, and we started talking about you, and she got the impression I’m attracted to you, and . . . crap.” That last was because the tears had broken free and were rolling down my face now. Horrified, I swiped them away angrily and raked my hair back from my face. Jesus, I was a mess. My emotions were all over the place lately, and I knew it had nothing to do with hormones. My period wasn’t due for another two weeks. This was entirely Ruairidh and Angus’s faults.

  Ruairidh sat back in his chair and watched me wiped away my tears with hard, cold eyes. The charming, funny guy I’d been getting to know was gone, replaced by the scary stranger that had walked into my Maths class a month before.

  Once I was somewhat composed again, I took a sip of my Coke to steady myself and rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand. I was getting a headache. Great. Just great.

  Then Ruairidh asked, his voice flat, “So are you?”

  I sighed. “Am I what?”

  “Attracted to me?”

  I flicked a glance at him. He hadn’t moved, and his expression was still unreadable, but there was tension in his neck and shoulders that made me wonder why he’d even asked. He had to know the answer. Oddly, I didn’t think he was just fishing for compliments.

  “You know that every girl in school is attracted to you, Ruairidh. Why ask?”

  He leaned forward abruptly, making me flinch. “I don’t care about every girl in school. I want to know if you are attracted to me. You’re the only one I’m interested in.”

  I swallowed, caught in his intense eyes like a fly caught in a web. My heart pounded, and, unable to help myself, my gaze flicked to his lips for just a second. The corner of his mouth quirked up, his lips parted, and the tip of his tongue darted out to touch his lip-ring. My stomach rolled and my toes curled. Oh God, I thought, I want him to kiss me.

  “Yes, Ruairidh,” I whispered. “I’m attracted to you. Are you happy now?”

  He smiled, but it was thin. He sat back in his seat, freeing me of his paralysing gaze. He shook his head. “Not at all,” he muttered.

  My shoulders slumped, and I wanted to throttle him. “Then why—”

  “Because I had to know. And it would have been easier if you’d said no.”

  I frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

  “Because now that I know you want me too, it’s all I’m going to think about. And I can’t have you because it would kill my brother.” He sighed, sadness flushing over his features. “I can’t do that to him, Islay. He’s in love with you, whether or not he has the guts to admit it. He deserves you. I won’t take that from him.”

  “What if I don’t want him?” I asked, the words pouring out of my mouth. I had no idea where they’d come from, and I clamped my hand over my mouth, shocked at myself. What was wrong with me? Of course, I wanted Angus. Didn’t I?

  Ruairidh’s eyebrows rose, but he shook his head again and said, “Don’t do that. I know you want him. Maybe not the way you want me, but . . . he’s right for you, Islay. Don’t screw that up because of me. He’ll make a good boyfriend—bring you flowers, go on dates, tell you he loves you. All you’ll get from me is a good fuck and a big dose of
shame afterwards.”

  I blushed and looked down at the table, tracing my fingernail along the grain of the wood. “You’re right,” I said. “I know you are. It’s just . . . what am I supposed to do? Angus won’t make a move. I don’t know if it’s ‘cause he’s scared I’ll reject him, or if he’s having second thoughts, or . . . .” I looked at Ruairidh saw the tension around his mouth, and felt guilty. “Sorry. I shouldn’t discuss this with you. Never mind. Can we just get on with the Maths please?”

  “Actually, I think I should go,” Ruairidh said, standing up.

  I jerked up in surprise. “Oh. Yeah. Okay. Um . . . I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

  He nodded, gathered his things, and left. I stared at the seat he’d been sitting in, collapsed into my chair, putting my head in my hands, and swore under my breath.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ** Ruairidh **

  Sometimes, doing the right thing really sucked. I left Islay’s house feeling like shit, even though I knew it was better for all of us if I kept my distance from her. I’d meant what I’d said to her—Angus deserved her. They’d be good together. I wasn’t the kind of guy who could give her what she deserved. I was the kind of guy who stuck around just long enough to get what I wanted and then left.

  Plus, because of what I did, getting close to Islay could be dangerous for both of us. I couldn’t pull her into my world of nightmares, blood, and evil. She was clean, pure, and good. Like Angus.

  I tried not to let my envy get the better of me, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t loathe my brother a little bit right at that moment. He had no idea how lucky he was. If he didn’t make that move soon, I wasn’t sure how long my good intentions could hold out, especially since I knew Islay wanted me as much as I wanted her.