Page 80 of Creatures that Breathe

A flash of pain as his teeth nick my lip, and I pull back, hard, squeeze the little cut between my fingers.

We’re breathing noisily at each other.

His steel eyes are hooded, lips swollen from mine. The spots of exquisite red have returned to his cheeks.

His voice, filled with smoke, strikes the remaining air from my lungs. “We need to stop,” he says. “We have to get you out of here. I’m sorry.” He kisses my cheek, my nose. “I’m so sorry, I fought it … I—you should’ve run.”

His soft shirt beneath my hands, the sound of our heavy breathing mixing, our intertwined bodies. It’s not enough.

My body locks up.

This can’t be more.

He’s planning to set me free. “You thought I assassinated the king?” I accuse without any heat, licking the taste of him from my lip.

“Natural conclusion.” He’s panting, and a small part of me thrills as he watches my mouth. “He failed you, you said it. You referenced the royal library. Your grandmother was hurt in his war. You were on the run.”

“And you were just going to let me leave?” I ask, genuine confusion twisting my mind.

You should’ve run. He said that before.

“Since the beginning …” I close my eyes, the truth dawning. “Since the moment we met, you suspected me of the king’s murder.”

His gaze is searing, tone torn between votive and wrecked. “Wouldn’t it be just like the Gods to send me heaven on a silver platter and force me to kill her?”

Heaven. I bury the compliment deep within me to scream about later. “Why didn’t you ask?”

As if it’s rhetorical, he responds with, “I was afraid.”

“Yeah, and I’m afraid chocolate marshmallows won’t be gooey over a campfire.”

The smallest curve to his brutalized lips. “You’re right.” A kiss next to my mouth. “Not afraid. That’s the wrong word. I was … terrified. Because if you answered yes, I knew I’d hunt you like a rabid wolf. I wouldn’t be able to resist it. I’d rip you apart with my teeth and be glad for it. The curse of the Blackguard is vengeance. We must always be hunting for Kadmos’s murderer or the curse strikes, uses the tattoos to torture us.”

“Always meaning …”

“Distractions are deadly, the bands ignite if we stray, if we’re not vigilantly searching for the murderer.” Another kiss. Sweet. “I’m prone to blue distractions, specifically.”

“So, all those times, when you were blacking out, that was all—”

“The curse.”

“—me.“ I finish, choking down the rush of exhilaration such a secret gives me. That I could wield so much power over such a dark knight.

“No, not you. At least, you don’t get the blame. It was my own doing.”

I could throw gasoline and a lit blowtorch on his bed and he’d find a way to take the rap.

And he was prepared to fight the curse for me, take the pain. Suffer the consequences.

My heart swells two sizes in my chest like a tiny medical marvel. I press my forehead against his.

A fist pounds on the door. “Last call. Bodies in seats.”

Cross drops his hands from me, already chewing on his mouth again. “I need to talk to Atlas. I’ll figure a way out of this. I’ll convince them …” he trails off. Won’t look at me.

I wish I didn’t understand. He doesn’t know what to do or say. The Blackguard doesn’t need another reason to be hunted by the royal family, and harboring a runaway will only lead to more problems. Especially if the runaway is a distraction.

Heaven.

---