Page 146 of Creatures that Breathe

No. she’s smiling. Could it be a good one? Could she be remembering more?

Leaning across the table, she places a finger to her lips and softly orders, “Listen.”

We’re closer than we’ve been since …

Since she told me she loved me.

Since I didn’t say it back.

She smells the same, like honeysuckle and sugar, as she wiggles in her seat with a nervous, excited I’m-doing-something-I-shouldn’t-be smile.

The table next to our right is talking about us, murmuring things like real hair and so tall. And is she a princess? He can’t be a prince. All I can focus on is the fact that Leni hasn’t flinched, or frozen. Hasn’t recoiled. She’s here, invading my space, smelling like wildest fantasy, completely at ease.

I couldn’t be harder if she put her mouth on my shaft.

In a bold—needy—move, I draw her chair closer to mine, and Gods Above, she scoots in even closer, her hand absently resting on my knee.

I don’t cover her fingers with mine the way I want to, not trusting myself to let go.

Awful tattoo slides from the gossips.

The words slam into my chest, like the heel of a boot, and grind gravel and glass into me.

“Do it,” she whispers, tone edged with spikes, tempting me beyond imagining. Nails lacquered neon orange bite into my thigh, three inches south of where she shot me.

“Come on.” Her hand glides up to my ribs, small palm pressing, as her breath tickles my throat. “Please? I love when you do it.”

Effortlessly, she has me.

Snares me. In a shop of bubbles and light and pop music, I lightly release the gift I’ve hated for most of my life.

And maybe it’s because Leni is so deliciously close or I’ve had my power on a suffocating leash, but the rush comes strong and fast. Hard.

Lights shatter.

Someone screams.

The entire bakery fills with black.

Leni laughs.

Happiness sinks cold metal between my ribs.

39

Cross

finally, the beach

“Do you remember the ocean?”

Leni peers out at the lazy navy waves. The sun is flirting with the horizon, laying bright gold over the water, and basking in the reflection.

Sunset is the ideal time to launch an attack. The shadows change shape quickly, elongating, widening, drowning, and harsh, roiling sunlight lends focus to unimportant things: the swirl of color in the sky, the puff of clouds, shimmer on water.

On top of that, I have my back to the city, feet dredged in sand, and I’m tuned into the curl of the waves. If Kadmos ever saw me like this, he’d shoot me.

I’d deserve it. Probably thank him for getting my head on straight.

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