Page 125 of The Blood we Crave

I slow my speed walk to a stroll, peering over my shoulder and seeing Conner Godfrey jogging towards me through the snow in the school parking lot.

His scarf flutters in the wind, and the tip of his nose is a shade past fire hydrant. I give him a tense smile. While we had found nothing extremely incriminating against him, he’s still involved with the dean.

They’re best friends, and although I don’t want to believe he’s harboring the ability to sell human beings, it’s highly unlikely he doesn’t know what his best friend since college is up to.

“I have—” I fumble for the words. “—a tutoring lesson, and I’m already late.”

Tutoring in the art of murder, but tutoring, nonetheless.

This is Thatcher’s and my first session since what happened in my old house. I’m not ashamed of the hope in my chest. I allow it to glitter inside of me like a star renewed.

Even though I knew how quick Thatcher was to pull away from me, our relationship shifted that night. It changed, altered into something more twisted and newer.

I’d seen him without his guard, made it through the rows of shrapnel, bloody and bruised, but he’d taken me anyway. Damaged soul and all, he took every piece of me and merged it with his own.

The scars on my thighs tingle at the memory, that frantic need to be close to him burning in my stomach, closer than anyone else has ever been or ever will be.

“You? What could you possibly need help with?” He laughs, friendly and so unsuspecting. I keep trying to see if anything changes in his gaze or mannerisms, but he’s just Conner.

“Just some extra-credit stuff, nothing too important.”

“I haven’t seen you around the labs lately. Has the cold weather stopped your genius?”

No, trying to bring down a sex ring while learning how to kill people has taken up most of my time as of late. Fear for my friends has crushed my creativity and urge to scavenge for bugs. I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I love the cold weather, actually. I’ve just been busy with school, trying to maintain my grades. Typical college student bullshit,” I hum.

Conner nods, giving me a soft smile. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that the director of the internship is eager for you application and to check in, make sure you’re being safe out here.”

Of course he did.

Although it had been weeks since another body part was found, the campus is still on high alert, constantly making sure girls walk to class in groups, never being alone after dark, and all the girls who stayed on campus had a mandatory curfew.

“I’m being careful, I promise,” I assure him, hitching my bag farther up my shoulder. “I do have to get going though. I’ll see you around, Professor Godfrey.”

I turn to take the last few steps to my car, but he gently grabs ahold of my jacket, keeping me in place.

“Listen,” he murmurs, his voice almost nervous. “I know it’s not my place, and I’m sure I’m crossing a line, but I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say anything.”

My body angles towards him once again, eyebrows pulled tight as I wait for him to continue.

“I know you have good reasoning behind the friends you choose,” he starts, “but I just want you to be smart about your future. To be safe.”

“Being friends with Briar and Sage isn’t safe?”

“Being friends with Thatcher Pierson isn’t safe.” Conner’s gaze is fixed on mine. “There have been whispers about his potential involvement in the recent murders. I just don’t want anything to happen to you, Lyra.”

Venom boils beneath my skin. I feel that urge inside of me yawning awake as protectiveness lures it from its slumber. My jaw tightens as I jerk my coat from his grasp.

I couldn’t care less if he was being nice or not.

“You’re right. It isn’t your place,” I say curtly.

My anger isn’t just directed at Conner; it’s at this entire town, scrawling the word “villain” across Thatcher’s forehead before he was even a teenager.

They all wanted a monster to fear, to point fingers at and spread vicious lies about, so they created one in him. They helped Henry Pierson mold him into the unfeeling man he is now.

“Lyra, I wasn’t—”

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