Page 29 of Sweet Nightmare

But Jude’s never been one to go where he doesn’t want to, and he stands his ground, refusing to budge as his gaze sweeps over me. “Did it hurt you?” he asks.

“I’m fine.” He lifts a brow, and I know he’s thinking about our earlier conversation, so I change it to, “I’m okay. It’s long gone.”

“Good.” He only deigns to acknowledge the last part of what I said as he looks me over from head to toe. As he does, his eyes narrow even more. “For someone who insists they’re okay, you certainly look like hell.”

I stiffen at the insult. I know I look rough—it’s been a shit day. Just like I know it shouldn’t matter what he thinks. But for some reason it does. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be oneiroi, can we?”

He rolls his eyes. “I meant, there’s blood on your shirt. And a bruise on your face.” He leans forward, strokes his thumb over my jaw.

I jerk back, startled. But he looks just as surprised—like he’s as shocked as I am that he touched me like that.

“We really should take care of those cuts.” He nods toward my arm.

I glance down and realize he’s right. I must have bled through the bandages Eva and I applied earlier. Now that my hoodie is off, there’s nothing to hide all the damage that disgusting snake monster did.

“How did this happen?” he asks gruffly.

“I had a run-in with one of the monsters in the menagerie before class.”

He looks far more horrified than a few cuts, even nasty ones, warrant.

I laugh—or try to—around the sudden tightness in my throat. On the plus side, my galloping heart rate has finally returned to normal. “The storm seems to have put a lot of things in a bad mood today.”

Jude doesn’t answer, but his gaze is downright stony as he scans my body, cataloging the damage. My stomach jumps a little at the scrutiny. At his scrutiny.

I tell myself to turn away, tell myself that after everything that’s happened, he doesn’t have the right to look at me like that. But I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t breathe—at least until he says, “You really need to take care of those wounds.”

And just like that, my stomach goes from flipping to sinking. How can I be so pathetic that one slide of his eyes over my body makes my defenses crumble like dust?

“I have to go,” I say as I all but flee to the corner of the room where I dropped my backpack. “Claudia will be here in a little while—”

“Clementine.” His voice rumbles through the space between us.

I ignore the way it makes my stomach jump and my cheeks burn hotter as I gather up my sweatshirt. “Just keep soaking your hands and she’ll—”

“Clementine.” This time there’s a warning in the three little syllables that make up my name, but I ignore it the same way I ignore him. Badly.

“Bandage them up or whatever needs to be done. You know how good she is with—”

“Clementine!” The warning has turned to an ultimatum, and this time it comes from much closer. So much closer that my heart—and my feet—stutter over themselves at the exact same moment.

“What are you doing?” I demand, whirling around. “You need to get back to soaking your hands!”

“My hands are doing just fine.” He holds them up to prove his point. And while fine is a stretch—they are still very red and angry looking—the elixir worked fast to close up all the open wounds. “I need to take care of you now.”

Suddenly, he sounds so sad I just can’t bear it.

“I’m okay. The bites are no big deal.” I stumble backward toward the door.

But he’s moving with me, his steps outpacing mine until he’s closer—so much closer—than I’m comfortable with.

“Stop fighting me,” he insists again.

“Fine.” I whirl around to find I’m back at the cupboard. Caught between the door I’m a little terrified to open and the guy I’m even more terrified to let touch me. “But I can do it.”

I don’t need magic to know Jude doesn’t so much as budge an inch. His gaze blazes like a brand between my shoulder blades even as the heat rolls in waves off his big, powerful body. So close that I can feel the burn. So intense that I can feel the weight of those three long years pressing down on me like an off-kilter scale, one that will be off-balance forever.

Desperate for some distance now, a chance to think—to breathe—I start to reach for the handle. But Jude gets there first, moving me gently aside in what I’m pretty sure is an effort to protect me as he opens the door.

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