Page 67 of Nemesis

I’mnotafraid, though. Not of him.

“S’okay, Mal.” Artemis shoves off the bike and weaves toward us. She pats his chest, tipping her head back to see him clearly.

She’s in a black cropped top and ripped, light-washed jeans. Her dark hair is long and flowing around her shoulders, not in its usual braid. Her eyes are bloodshot, but her makeup is perfectly in place. Black powder on her lids, mascara lengthening her lashes. She has layered necklaces that almost conceal her cleavage. Conceal or accentuate, I can’t decide.

Her tanned skin is almost glowing bronze in the morning sunlight.

She focuses on me, and her breathing hitches.

Malikai grips her forearm in response.

I smirk at him.

“I found him,” Malikai says slowly, his gaze not leaving mine. “Now I want my favor.”

Her expression changes. Drops into nothing, like liquid glass being set back in the fire. Her lips twitch, the slightest inclination of a frown flickering. Then back to smooth glass.

“Your favor,” she repeats. “Okay, then. What is it?”

“I want you to stay away from him.” He gestures to me.

My eyebrows hike.

She laughs.

I don’t get the joke.

Her laughter fades when he doesn’t smile.

He’s serious?

She’s considering it?

“He lives on the top floor,” Malikai continues. “Apartment 8F.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter.

He ignores me. “Tem. Are you going to pay me my favor?”

She studies him.

Then me.

Then back to him.

I don’t like this. I don’t like that she’s thinking about doing what he says, because I don’t know how to avoid her. I’m drawn back to her, time and again, and it isn’t just because of how stunning she is. It’s because of our past. And a bit of our future, too.

We’re woven together whether she wants to be or not.

“You need me,” I finally say, like I can help my case any more. Push myself a bit farther. “You don’t know what’s coming, Artemis. But I do. And you’re going to need my help to stop it.”

To stophim.

It’s too late, though. My words have little effect, as she nods to herself and seems to make a decision. She slides the helmet on and flips the visor down, blocking my view of her eyes.

She’s drunk—he said so himself.

She can’t decide to cut me out while inebriated.

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