Page 35 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

I run my fingers along the cover, flipping it open to see Lyra’s messy handwriting along the sides. I’d discovered that she enjoys the art of annotation and had quickly found myself borrowing copies of her books.

“I was in love, for the first time in my life. I knew it was hopeless, but that didn’t matter to me. And it’s not that I want to have you. All I want is to deserve you. Tell me what to do. Show me how to behave. I’ll do anything you say.”

I smirk at the note next to the underlined passage.

This is love.

And just below her own handwriting is my own, the red pen bright against the old pages.

No. It’s unwarranted devotion. His desire to love her is only because of her unwillingness to love him. You can just say Sebastian Valmont from Cruel Intentions is your type, darling. No need to go through the text that inspired the movie to prove it.

This is the third book we’ve had a conversation in. Without her knowledge, of course, but something about it makes me feel closer to her mind without needing to be near her body, just existing between the pages of her favorite books, reading her thoughts as if she’s right next to me, explaining word for word what it is she enjoys about each part.

“Thatcher, you still there?” Alistair’s voice pulls me from the book.

I close it, laying it back on the bed before replying.

“Yeah, what were you saying?”

“I asked where Conner Godfrey is in all of this.”

The sound of his name makes me recoil.

“In a casket.” My grip on the phone tightens.

I hate the way he looks at Lyra. She’s kind and too trusting sometimes; she doesn’t see the way he stares. How he purposefully puts himself in her space. He may fool everyone else with his hip, cool teacher act, but I kill men as a hobby.

Everything you ever need to know about a man lives in his eyes, and he desperately wants Lyra Abbott, using her kindness against her, pulling her closer for far more than just friendship.

Anyone looking at her too long annoys me, but most of all, Conner.

Because shesmilesat him.

That stupid smile.

It’s blinding and annoyingly happy. Like a jar filled with those little firefly bugs that kids love to catch during the summer.

The one that lights up her face and illuminates any room she’s standing in. It’s impossible to miss. How the world doesn’t notice it, notice her, is beyond me. Because once you do, it’s all you see. She exists everywhere.

I’ve watched it grow over the years with her face but never dimming in its joy. Lyra likes to believe she is nothing but death and darkness, but inside her is a soul made to love people.

Her smile is a glimpse of her love. Of her affection. Her happiness towards others.

It’s a smile she’s never once given me.

“You have a problem with him?”

“I have a problem with anyone that close to the Sinclairs,” I lie easily, rolling my tongue in front of my teeth.

There’s a knock at my door.

That’s something new. I suppose our night together has given her a little courage to approach me.

“Lyra stayed after to talk to him for a while today. I saw them hug just before I left. Ask her if she found out anything,” Briar shouts from somewhere in the room.

“Sure.” My jaw twitches, looking over my shoulder at the closed door, knowing she’s waiting just outside. “Call me if you find anything else.”

I know we all talked about her using her friendship as leverage to get information from Godfrey, but it doesn’t mean I like it. I also don’t like the idea of her staying alone with him for longer than twenty seconds.

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