Page 36 of Creatures that Breathe

“It’s back, isn’t it? Does it hurt?”

Cross won’t look at me. “I’m fine.”

“I have eyes.” And ears, and a nose. If a deaf bat were hanging off the order here sign, they’d ask, you good, bro?

Cross has the same look Yaya would get when her body threatened to overwhelm her mind: frustrated, angry, helpless. A ringer for the one flashed at me after our kiss became a crappy blood ritual. Seconds before an invisible Mac truck flattened him to the pavement.

I knew you were dangerous.

Sweet Hera, he’d sounded proud. Impressed. Enchanted. I’d floated.

“I’m fine,” he insists, pressing his palm to his ribs.

“Oh right, you’re fine.” Air quotes and sarcasm muddle with the scent of bleach and coffee grounds. “Forgive me for forgetting the universal truth—everyone’s totally fine when they say they are. Especially when they double down on it.” I’m glaring, bunching together my rapidly degrading blood-soaked napkin. “Just try to swing backwards when you pass out because I won’t be catching you this time.”

“I won’t pass out.”

Gods, we’re both liars. “Please?” I ask, heart sinking with familiar feelings of helplessness. “Let me help you.”

He’s short fused. Black. Bullets and bombs. “Nothing can be done.” Final.

“Plenty can be done. Stop being myopic and depressing. Focus on something happy.”

He lets out a bitter, scraping laugh. “Fuck no.”

I fight back the urge to flinch. Steel myself. The little girl Yaya knew would crumple if she were here now. If she’d had the day I had. The years.

Yaya had deserved help, not a terrified kid microwaving marshmallows for round two of sugar soup dining. I can’t help her now, but I can fix this. “Imagine a babbling brook, placid blue waters, a stream seamlessly joining a river.”

Cross’s supernova eyes glimmer with … annoyance. Amusement? “Excellent. I’m ready to provide a urine sample.”

“Perfect,” I quip, not one to be out sassed. “Job done. Pay me what you owe me.”

“You should teach a class.” He shifts forward, setting elbows onto his knees, invading my space to draw a wayward tress of azure between his fingers. “Can professors have blue hair?”

What’s his obsession with my hair? I press my lips together to prevent a smile from spreading. “It’d boost attendance.” Check out the freak!

He nods, dark eyes clinging to my mouth. “A temporary boon, but grades would suffer.”

Has he been to college? Or are we both extrapolating on an overheard phone call between an NYU Assyriology undergrad and his disappointed mother in the Spirit check-in line?

If he has, I guarantee there’s a pamphlet somewhere with his face on the cover. Curls tousled, soft warm brown over those sky-black eyes. A leather tome experiencing size dysmorphia in those broad, warrior’s hands. Throw a park bench in the background, a clocktower riddled with non-native ivy. Keep the expression he has right now. Lips slightly hitched, darkened eyes. Tormented and also somehow amused. Our students are mysterious and hot.

You can’t keep him.

The thought squirms under my skin, adding pressure as it stretches.

He’s looking at me, waiting patiently. I’m certain he knows how long I’ve been peeling the border of a sloppy Texas state flag sticker stuck to the couch leg. Like he hit the timer when he finished talking, eager for my rebuttal. Moves and countermoves.

I look away from him, back to the sticker. “We’ll run an experiment after you finish your lecture on ‘Bleeding out: not just for mortals.’”

“Christ.” The word is an amazed laugh. “You’re good.” He drags a hand down his face, messy, tired. “You’re too good.”

A slight shiver followed by a burst of heat floods my cheeks. “Oh yeah? Can I join the Kingsguard?” I’m joking, but he shuts it down with the cut of a knife.

“Don’t. You shouldn’t … Don’t use that term.” He stares at some midpoint between me and his feet. “Don’t call me it either.”

I stand, chastised, toss my garbage in the bin. Ignore the thin trail of blood leaking down my sleeve, fusing my arm to my coat. Retreat to the windows and pretend smog-gray is my favorite color. “Alright. Just Cross then.”

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