Page 45 of Deadly Sacrifice

Pull it together, Prudence.

My tears have dried by now, my muscles stiff from my hunched position on the ground. When I finally manage to pull myself up off the floor, I ease the door open, peering into the hallway to make sure nobody is walking by, and then I slip out of the closet and gingerly head to my next class like nothing ever happened.

***

When I get home from class at the end of the day, I text Griffin to tell him I’m not feeling well and won’t make it to the library later. While the books haven’t helped, we’ve still been meeting there. Half the time, we just end up doing homework together. We talk about The Celestials, too, of course, and ways to infiltrate their tight-knit organisation, but I get the sense he’s still holding something back from me.

And while that should irritate me, I find that more often than not, I don’t even want to press it. I just like his company. Griffin is safe. He’s comfortable. He’s kind, thoughtful, infuriatingly smart, and last night, we got into a debate over whether Shakespear ever truly existed. He claims the famous writer was actually a pen name for someone else and came prepared with printouts of different webpages arguing the point.

It was ridiculous, but hey, stranger things have happened.

And then he walked me home, kissed my cheek at the door, and told me to get another topic ready that we could hash it out over. I laughed, and he smiled that soft, knowing smile, and my heart just about fell out of my butt.

So, simply put, I have a crush. I refuse to act on it, though. Not after everything with Creed. And today only solidifies that urge to run the other way when a guy stirs these feelings in me.

My mind is too loud right now, but thankfully, my room is empty. Annie is with a few other sorority girls, getting decorations made for some event this weekend. Heather so politely pointed out to me that I’ve yet to sign up to help with any of that crafting shit, but I had a solid reason; I don’t have an artistic bone in my damn body. And I don’t fuck with glitter.

When I’m tucked away in my room, I collapse on my bed, shoes still on, and think myself into a fitful sleep.

***

Three soft taps to my shoulder yank me from slumber. I blink my eyes open, shocked to find Griffin standing by my bed, holding up a white to-go bag and wearing that damn smile.

I sit up, wiping my cheeks to check for drool, and then look down at the bag in his hand once more. “Either my dreams have taken a really weird turn, or a giant teddy bear has slipped into my room to bring me food,” I rasp with a dopey smile, my voice thick from sleep.

Griffin rolls his eyes playfully, setting the bag down on my nightstand before sitting on the edge of my bed. I tuck my knees up to my chest so there’s plenty of room for him, but also so he doesn’t get too close, or god forbid, accidentally touch me. I’m still too raw from my encounter with Creed earlier, and my emotions are going haywire.

Soup, he explains with an easy shrug. Might help you feel better.

Pretty sure I blush. Rolling my lips together — because I’m a little lost for words — I grab the bag and open it, groaning when the smell of French onion soup hits me. “You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” I tease as I pull the cup of hot soup out and pop the lid open.

He looks over at me, piercing me with his glacial blue eyes. An easy half smile curves his perfect lips up, and he signs, Good. Because you’re mine, too.

I smile, dipping my spoon into the soup and blowing it off. “Sure. I bet you tell all the ladies that,” I joke before taking my first bite. I hum in delight, closing my eyes as the sharp flavors burst across my tongue. So damn good. I may not have actually been sick, but damn if this soup isn’t exactly what I needed for my emotional mess of a heart tonight.

When I blink my eyes open, Griffin is still watching me, smiling as he nods down to the soup. “You want some?” I ask, getting another spoonful and holding it out for him. He doesn’t take the spoon, though. Griffin holds my gaze as he leans forward and opens his mouth, taking the bite while I try not to drop the fucking spoon in shock.

His throat works through a swallow, and then he nods, licking his lips and giving a thumbs up for the soup.

I clear my throat, fighting against the lust-fueled smile trying to appear on my face. “So, um, any new thoughts on how I can get into The Celestials’ inner circle?” I ask after another delicious bite.

Griffin sighs, leaning back against the wall and brushing a hand through his curly hair. He looks over at me with pinched brows, shaking his head.

Setting the cup of soup on the nightstand, I muster up the courage to say, “I feel like that’s a bunch of bullshit. What aren’t you telling me? Please, Griffin.”

All the playfulness from a moment ago has seeped out of the room. He studies me with a deep frown, rubbing his fingers along his stubbled jaw. I won’t be your favorite person anymore if I admit everything, he signs, dropping his eyes.

Reaching forward, I put my hand on his thigh, right above his knee, and give a little squeeze. “That’s not true. You’re my only real friend here. I’ve told you all my secrets. I’ve trusted you with why I’m really here. I wouldn’t share all that with some random hottie just for shits and giggles,” I say lightly, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

He breathes out a silent laugh, taking my hand from his lap and tangling our fingers together. When he looks up at me again, he points to his eyes and then the scar on his neck. He won’t let my hand go, so he can’t actually sign anything with just the one free hand he’s got.

I suck on my lower lip as he does the gesture once more. “You saw something you shouldn’t have, and they tried to kill you. Right. You said as much before,” I murmur, feeling my heart shatter at the thought of Griffin dying. What if they try again? What if they succeed this time? Now that I know him, I can’t imagine never seeing him again. “What else can you tell me? How can I stop them?”

Griffin swallows and then puts his palm against his chest, patting the spot over his heart a couple of times.

Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” I try to pull my hand free so he can elaborate, but he tightens his fingers in mine, closing his eyes, and pats his chest some more. I squint, tilting my head to the side while I try to decode whatever message he’s trying to convey. Griffin opens his eyes, pointing at his chest now, and I suck in a shaky breath. Something clicks. My stomach turns over itself, and the soup sitting in there suddenly doesn’t feel so great. “You… you’re one of them?” I whisper warily. This time when I try to pull my hand away, he lets me. I scoot farther back, resting against my headboard while my mind spins in sickening circles. “This whole time? But that makes even less sense. If you’re part of that creepy organization, why would they want to kill you? Wouldn’t you know all about their shady shit, anyway? Why would they care if you saw something?” I’m rambling now, and I know it, but I think my brain is melting a little bit.

Griffin puts his hand on my knee, stroking his thumb in soft circles to calm me down.

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