Page 64 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

Our definition of love has expanded far beyond the scope of just romantic. I’ve waited a long time to have the kind of connections worth celebrating, and maybe that’s why I’ve loved Valentine’s Day for so long.

For the hope of what I have today.

“Alone is a dangerous place to find yourself, Lyra.”

My heels bend as I turn so quickly I nearly fall over. My fingers grab ahold of the banister, trying to find balance.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper. “The whole point of you staying in the cabin is to actually stay there, Thatcher. You’re going to be seen.”

He steps from the veil of shadows further onto the platform. The glowing lights from the commons illuminate the sleek red box in his hands. The heart-shaped package makes my heart skip.

“Isn’t that what the mask is for?” Thatcher points out.

It’s the same as the other boys, a horned ghoul, except Thatcher’s is matte black. It stretches across the contours of his face, leaving only his mouth exposed. I catch a glimpse of his slicked-back white hair just behind the horns.

It’s hard to argue his point.

From a distance, it would be impossible to pick him out from any other masked student on campus. But if you get close enough, the chances of recognizing him increase.

Or maybe they don’t.

Maybe it’s just me that can distinguish his characteristics, even with a mask. He’s etched so deep in my memory I would know him with my eyes closed, from the smell of his cologne to the way my body wakes up in his presence.

“Did something happen? What was so important that it couldn’t wait till I got back to the house?”

Thatcher, for obvious reasons, had to stay out of our Valentine’s Day operation, which he shared his distaste for multiple times. I know he’s restless, and being confined to the walls of the cabin is slowly killing him.

But for my own sake, I wish he’d just stay put.

He walks forward, brushing my shoulder as he walks to the edge of the terrace, looking down below. The long lines of his body are squeezed within a tailored suit, an almost identical shade to my dress, which I know wasn’t an accident.

Turning around so that his back is leaning on the banister, he wiggles the box in his hands.

“I’m an impatient gift-giver,” he says simply, as if that’s more than enough reason to show his face in public right now.

“I didn’t know you made it a habit to give gifts.” I wrap an arm around my waist as a chilly wind bursts through.

“I don’t.”

I can’t see his eyes, and it’s bothering me. The matte material shields me from the blue of his irises, and his mouth sits in a hard line.

“But.” His chest expands as he releases a sigh, reaching the box towards me. “Valentine’s Day is your favorite holiday. So, consider this a thank-you.”

I bite my bottom lip, a smile breaking through as I take it from his hands. The smooth fabric across the box is warm beneath my fingertips. It looks expensive. Despite eating my weight in cakes and cookies, my stomach growls at the chance to eat chocolate.

“What do you have to thank me for?” I lift my eyebrow, dragging my fingers to the seam of the package, gently trying to open it.

“More than I’m capable of understanding.”

When the top of the box comes off, my jaw nearly hits the ground. I’d thought he got me candy, maybe jewelry ’cause I know that’s what most guys go for, and I would have been more than happy with anything he chose to get me.

But this? I never would’ve expected.

“Thatcher,” I whisper, the wind catching the end of his name. “This is… Oh my God.”

It’s all I can come up with as I stare down at the sections where chocolate usually lies in these kinds of gifts, but all ten spaces are replaced with different species of spiders, all of them just as rare as the next. I’d written these down in my journal in hopes of ordering maybe one of them for my new display, but every one I’d documented sits in perfect taxidermy position right in front of me. All I would have to do is go home and strategically place them along the artificial web I’d built.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes, my hand resting just above my mouth, and I can feel the way my fingers shake.

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