“He had to run in to the office to do some paperwork.” She brushes sugar off the counter. I know she wants him to be here all the time, but would never ask him to.
“He'll be back.” I give her a hug and wince. I tug the strings of the hoodie tighter, almost strangling myself. I also stole some of Tex's intense cover-up that she uses for monster zits. I hope it works on noctalis-inflicted marks.
After I've finished my tea and cookies, I say I'm going to take a shower.
“I think that's a good idea. You're getting sparkles all over my clean counter.” I look down and see that I am. There's even some on the cookie plate. She comes over and gives me a hug, glitter be damned.
“I'm going to lie down,” she says, giving me a tired half-smile, only one side of her mouth twitching upward.
I'm relieved when I shut the door to my room. I let my shoulders sag under the weight of everything that's happened. I can't take much more. Soon I'm going to be crushed. The tears I don't bother to stop drip down my face, grateful for release.
First things first. Shower. I throw Tex's hoodie and borrowed pants in the hamper. I'd left the dress crumpled on the floor of her room.
I turn the water on as high as it will go and scrub and scrape until my skin is red and raw. I let the water pound on my face, seep into my eyes and make me cry more. I'm glad for the background noise of the water, because I'm being quite loud. I don't turn off the water until the hot runs out and I'm shivering. The tears have stopped, but my neck hurts like hell. I wipe the steam off the bathroom mirror and examine my neck. The marks are red from the hot water, but they don't look too severe. I think I'll be able to get away with just make-up.
My phone buzzes and it's Tex asking how I'm doing. I text her back saying I'm fine and throw in a smiley for good measure.
I'm combing out my hair when there's a tapping at my window. I don't have to look up to know who it is. All I want to do is shut the curtains on him. Instead, I grab some clothes, change in the bathroom, come back in and stand by the window. He's standing on the overhang outside, wings furled, shirt off. I'm pissed and scared at the same time. He's kinda breathtaking, standing there like that.
“What do you want?” I say through the glass. I'm not opening the window.
“Please let me come in.” Dear God, I'm having vampire movie flashbacks.
“So you can let your brother strangle me again? Hell, no.” I cross my arms. If he wants in, there's nothing I can do to stop him. That doesn't mean I can't put up a fuss.
“Ava. You need to let me in.” I'm still not opening the window.
“Can't you just come in? I thought that inviting thing was a myth.” I'm playing with fire.
“It is. But I do not want to force you.” He rakes a hand through his hair and I catch a glimpse of his eyes.
“I don't want to see you. Ever again.” The words hurt coming out of my mouth. They are sharp and make me want to cry all over again.
They're also not true.
“Ava, please. Let me explain.” I've never heard him plead before, and it isn't satisfying. It makes my stomach twist in a sick way.
“Go ahead. I can't wait to hear it.” My hair drips down my back and I grab my towel to dry it. I open the window a little so I can hear him better. He moves closer, somehow keeping perfect balance.
“Ivan and I have a history. It is not a good one, and I am not going into it, but you need to listen to me.” Now there's desperation in his voice. This is bigger than I thought.
I wave my hand for him to go on.
“I should have seen it coming, but I was blind. He's going to try and use you to destroy me. There are things about me that you do not know, that I cannot tell you. All I can ask is that you trust me when I say that you are in danger and I would do anything to stop it.” From what Ivan said, Peter is the one in danger, but that's impossible. Ivan must have said it just to mess with me.
“So what are we doing to do?” I hate how the word 'we' just comes out of my mouth, as if 'we' are a given. My sense abandoned me back when he started begging.
“There is only one option. I would have come sooner, but I wanted to give you some time.” Time to freak out and worry a little?
“I'm not going to like it, am I?” I wrap my arms around myself against the chilly air seeping through the window.
“No.” Bingo.
“Why should I believe you?” I try to do what he does, look at him without blinking. Of course my eyes get all dry and I have to. So much for that.
“You don't have to. But I would not lie to you about this.” He's right, and I hate him for it.
“What is it? This thing you have to do?” I move aside so he can climb in the window. My promise not to let him in wasn't even a promise. I always cave when it comes to Peter.
Somehow he slips in, even with the wings. I shake a little, being so close to him, a remnant of the fear left over from last night. I'm more aware than ever how dangerous he is.
“Are you going to kill me?” I grip the towel to stop my hands from shaking.
“No.” He moves around me and goes to my night stand. The only thing on my night stand is the Swiss Army knife I'd gotten out to protect myself that second time I went to see him. I forgot it was there. This is not going well. He's going to kill me.
“You said. You said you're not going to kill me.” I stutter. Facing him, I start to inch toward the door. He can outrun me, but I'm not going down without a fight.
“I am not going to kill you.” He flips the knife open with a click. The next moment he lifts his wrist to his lips. “Don't watch.” Of course that only makes me look closer as he bites into his wrist and blood seeps out.
“What are you doing?” I shriek and then clamp my hand over my mouth. Mom is downstairs.
“Come here, quickly.” I go to him, if only because he's dripping blood on my floor. Before I can grab a tissue to staunch his wound, he grabs my wrist with his bloody hand.
“I'm sorry.” He moves the knife over my own wrist and I cry out with the pain and surprise of it. I struggle, but he's too strong.
“Stop,” he commands. Taking my arm, he turns it so the open wounds meet. An instant flash of cold rips through me, as if my blood has crystallized.
“Stay still.” I hear his voice from far away as our blood mixes and drops onto the floor. He turns my arm upside down so his blood seeps into my wound. “Shh,” he says, holding my arm so tight I can barely feel it, as if it's not my arm anymore.
“Nonono.” I'm spewing nonsense, but I can't stop. I'm shaking because I'm cold and I'm scared and I don't know what's happening.