Page 108 of Creatures that Breathe

She’s about to say something, rip me apart or stitch me together, when Luke enters on the echo of a hard knock. He balances plates on his arms, announcing, “Pizza. Ramen. Freezer frost mint chip and skittles. Bon appétit.”

He slides the samplings on a plastic rolling tray and bangs it against the side of my broken bed. Plants his hands on his hips. Grins. Beams. “I’m Luke.”

“Luke?” Leni asks, staring at him like an apparition.

He is a lot. For a mortal. As wide and tall as Heracles, black hair trimmed short, a wash of dark stubble, deep eyes, a charming smile.

Leni soaks in the collar of his Notre Dame t-shirt, checks his wrists and tries to x-ray through the ankles of his jeans. Turns to me. “Luke? I didn’t read about a Luke.”

“He’s my—”

Luke snorts. “If I hear manservant, I will personally make Drake pry your toenails off. I don’t care if the curse got you or not.”

“I was going to say friend.”

He flashes straight white teeth and a dimple. “Mortal, muggle, beefcake, demolitions expert, and thanks to a single mother, overly doting friend and chef extraordinaire. Be nice to me, or I’ll change the Netflix password.”

Leni blinks. Stares. “You’re human.”

Doesn’t phase Luke. “Yes. What are you?”

Her eyebrows slam down. “If I tell you, I’m complicit in breaking Argos’s law, aren’t I? Aren’t you?” she directs at me. “Mortals are to be kept in the dark or subjected to the punishment of Gods.”

Luke flashes me a curious expression, as if asking where I found this girl. I shrug at him. Can’t help my Leni’s a smartie. “She’s mine. That’s all you need to know.”

“Yours,” Luke echoes, hazel eyes dancing with bright green streaks. “What a claim.”

Leni gapes at him, clearly offended by our failure to follow rules.

I can’t help it. I laugh, tilt my head and say coolly, “Thanks for the food, now isn’t Meda somewhere, needing her laces tied?”

Shoveling a handful of yellow skittles in his mouth, Luke gives me the bird. “Just like that. Streaming privileges revoked. Eat,” he orders, tongue neon. “Finish it all, yeah? You look like I used to. Skinny kid gunning for a fight.”

He’s out the door fast as he’s entered, snatching his lucky coat from its hook.

“You’re openly breaking Argos law,” Leni hisses. “Are you aware of how they discipline lawbreakers? They hang them from Mytikos peak. The vultures there have spare tires.”

I shrug. “The Argos and their vengeance don’t even make the top ten fears of mine.”

Rolling her eyes, she turns to leave and five of those fears ignite. Broil me.

My throat dries, panic receding, as she swipes a red key from its hook. Slowly, careful of the sores and cuts, she undoes the chain on my ankle, shaking her head at the blotchy, mutilated skin beneath.

My sharp inhale of pain breaks between us as she removes a broken needle from my arm.

“Fluids,” I explain. It’s what I heard them say, yell at each other before they ran out of needles. Before they realized the curse would snap them apart, as if to say, ah ah, no helping.

She looks on the verge of tears, and it’s an agony worse than any physical torment.

I lie. “It doesn’t hurt.” Unsteady, I stand, legs shuddering, sore muscles spasming. I force myself to focus on the information she fed into my ear, briefly blitzing the curse from my blood so that I can see Leni the way she deserves to be seen. Wholly, all at once.

Rushing to my side, her hands crush my hips to provide support. The sidelong look she slants me is heavy with warning. Do not push too hard.

My pride takes a hit for the sake of her hands on me. I lean into her, lightly pressing my forehead to hers, relishing in blue and honeysuckle and the hot press of her fingertips.

“I want to shower,” I announce, dropping my head into the curve of her neck, inhaling. Holding it, embracing the bolt of potent desire that rushes through me.

Leni shivers against me, fingers clutching my shirt, nails scraping skin.

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