Page 32 of Snitches and Serpents

My body is still shaking, and my arms and shoulders are tingling from the lack of proper oxygen, but I manage to draw in another small breath and then hold it. Tristan orders me to do it again. And again.

Eventually, my hammering pulse slows a little and the prickling sensation stops. I shake out my arms to get rid of the last of it while I draw in another slow breath. This time, I manage to get it past my throat and all the way into my lungs.

A soft smile spreads across Tristan’s lips, and he nods approvingly.

I hold that breath for a few seconds before letting it out. Then I draw in another one. All the way into my lungs.

Relief washes through me.

I repeat the process until the pressure on my chest eases and my heart stops thundering. The panic inside me fades away, leaving me feeling completely drained instead.

For quite a while, I just remain there, straddling Tristan’s lap. He doesn’t move either. His hands stay nestled in my hair as he continues to gently stroke my temples with his thumbs while he holds my gaze. Those small strokes of his fingers make warmth and pleasure swirl up inside my chest, chasing away the last of that cold terror.

I get a suddenly overwhelming urge to lean into him. To rest my cheek against his firm chest and let him wrap his arms around me and hold me.

The thought makes reality snap back into me.

I’m straddling Tristan’s lap. His hands are in my hair. His fingers stroking my skin. And he helped me through a panic attack.

What on earth is going on?

I blink.

Then confusion furrows my brows as I hold his gaze and ask, “Why?”

I can almost see the exact moment that reality hits him as well.

He also blinks. His gaze flicks down to my body and then up to his hands. A scowl quickly settles on his handsome features.

In a flash, he has dropped his hands from my hair and instead grabbed my hips. With firm movements, he lifts me off his lap and sets me down on the grass instead. Then he stands up.

My body is still completely drained, so I just stay there on the grass where he put me. Confusion swirls inside my chest as I stare up at him while he brushes blades of grass from his clothes and then rakes a frustrated hand through his black hair.

“Why did you help me?” I ask, my voice coming out soft.

For some reason, I really need an answer to that question. Why would Tristan, who clearly hates me more than anyone in the world, help me like this?

His eyes are hard as he stares me down. Then a cruel smile tilts his lips.

“Because you’re not allowed to die yet. You haven’t finished suffering.”

12

TRISTAN

Frustration courses through me like electricity. Ducking under Amir’s fist, I throw a punch towards his ribs while I try to block out the annoying thoughts in my head. We’re at a cage fighting gym downtown, and it’s our third workout session of the week, but I still feel restless and frustrated.

A jolt shoots through my arm as Amir yanks his own arm down and rams his elbow into my forearm, redirecting my blow. I block his strike to my stomach and then twist around to kick at his hip.

But my mind keeps churning. Keeps returning to that afternoon outside Elle’s dormitory. I was watching her, because I still wasn’t sure if she was going to try to send campus police after me, when she paced back and forth. Then she called someone. I was too far away to hear what she said, let alone what the person on the other end of the line said, but it must have been something awful because her face transformed into this completely expressionless mask.

And then she just broke down.

The sight of it stunned me so much that I didn’t know what to do at first.

But I couldn’t just stand there. I couldn’t just stand there and watch as she collapsed to the ground, hyperventilating and gasping for air.

Pain spears through my heart at just the memory of what she looked like back then.

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