“Are you sure?” He teeters on the edge of decision. I feel him standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for me to tell him if he should jump.
“I trust you,” I say, and close my eyes.
Twenty-Three
“Ava?”
“Hm?” My eyelids take forever to prop open. I'm warm and dazed, lying in bed with my covers piled around me like it's the middle of winter instead of April.
“Ava?” A lukewarm hand strokes my face. I lean into it. My eyes finally open all the way.
“Peter?”
“How are you feeling?” His face materializes in my line of vision. God, he's good looking. Everything feels heavy and hard to do, even blinking.
“What?” It takes a second for everything to rush back. My hand goes to my neck, but there's no wound.
“I took it from your wrist. I thought it would be easier to hide.” My fingers reach out and feel the band of gauze around my left wrist where he cut me earlier. I peel the tape back. It doesn't hurt, but it looks awful, even though he's clearly washed and disinfected it.
“You didn't kill me,” I say, surprised.
“No.” I'm too weak to put the gauze back on, so he does it for me. I didn't know his touch could be so delicate, and how much I could love it when he touches me.
“Why?”
“I don't know.” He blurs and shudders in front of my eyes. I think this is just me. I reach my non-injured hand out to him and he takes it.
“Thank you.” I give his hand a squeeze as I say it.
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For not killing me. Not just for now, but for when we were flying. It would have been so easy for you to drop me and then you wouldn't have to deal with me. Don't tell me you didn't think about it.”
“I didn't.” I believe him. I glance at the clock, wondering what the hell time it is. Damn, I missed dinner.
“Did my parents come in?”
“Your mother did, but she didn't want to wake you. I believe she's put your dinner away until you need it.” My stomach snarls. I do need something to eat, especially after my blood donation. Don't they always give you juice and cookies after those things?
“I will leave you now. Goodnight, Ava.” He slips out of my hand and out the window.
“Goodnight, Peter.”
I wobble to my feet; my head feels like it's floating an inch below the ceiling. I need to eat something. I also need to read up on anemia.
***
Being away from her was like ripping my arms and legs off. I almost heard the tearing sound. I did not want this, for either of us. The thread that connected us, before that night, would have been easy to sever. One snip and she would have been free. When I Claimed her, I twisted those threads together, meaning that severing one would inevitably sever the other. If she died, I would continue to be, but without her.
Along the thread, feelings came. Angryscareduncertainanxioustiredstressed. I didn't even have words for all of them. It hit me like a hammer, so many things at once that I wanted to smash my head open so they would spill out and stop plaguing me. How could she stand it?
Her heart beat fast and loud. I could almost hear the blood in each of her little veins, pounding and rolling like a river.
I wanted her blood, but I also wanted something else. To protect her from everything, including me. To cradle her and touch her skin and whisper poetry in her ear and watch her smile. I wanted her to teach me to laugh again.
On an impulse, I picked her up. Her hands twined around my neck, pressing into my skin. That alone made me want to stand there for an eternity, just feeling her touch. Let her fingers play with the hair on the back of my neck. Touch my wings.
The night enveloped us, wrapped us in its darkness. Not for the first time, part of me wished to take her away with me. Find a deserted place and live there. Would she have stopped me? I did not know. So I took her back and put her in bed.
Her scent followed me as I flew out the window. I was not going far, but she didn't know that. I wondered if she could sense my presence. Her smell stayed with me and I would carry it with me always.
***
“Oh my God, where the hell have you been? I've been texting and calling. I almost called your house and risked talking to your dad because I was so worried.” Tex is yelling and it makes me want to clamp my hands over my ears. Ugh, why is she so loud? It's only eleven, but I've been passed out since Peter left.
“Okay, okay. I couldn't find my phone and then the battery died. So sue me. Although, if I ever get kidnapped, it's a good thing to know that there will be someone who alerts the police as soon as possible so they can start searching for me.” Of course I mean it as a joke, but now that I'm the First National Blood Bank of Peter, who knows?
“Shut up, don't even say that. I was really worried.” It's there in her voice. A day ago this would have been a major crisis. Now it is on the bottom of the things-I-need-to-worry-about list.
“I know. I'm super sorry. I'll make it up to you,” I scrub my gritty eyes. Someone (probably named Peter) left a full glass of water on my night stand. I chug it and listen to Tex's irritated breathing as she makes up her mind.
“I want coffee tomorrow morning. Two sugars, no cream.”
“I know how you like your coffee.” Tex has been drinking coffee since she was ten.
She's silent. I want to reach my arm through the phone and use it to choke the life out of her. I instantly recoil from that thought as it's accompanied by an image of me actually doing it. I decide to try something else.
“Have you recovered from the party yet?”
“Meh. I always bounce back. I didn't say or do anything embarrassing, did I?” That's unusual. She normally remembers everything.
“Well, you ran around naked for a while and you kept screaming about how you couldn't find your banana and then you made out with a couple of guys and I don't really remember the rest.”
“You are such a ho.” I fake gasp.
“You don't remember?”
“I do, but you never know.”
“True. You did cry a bit about him.” I hear her swear softly on the other end.
“Oh god, I am so sorry. You probably wanted to punch me.”
“No, it's all good. You had a little cry and then you were fine.” For the most part.
“I'm sorry.”
“It's no big deal, Tex.” I'm on the edge. I need to get off the phone before I say something I don't mean. It's not her fault I'm in this mess.
“Listen, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?” I don't wait for a response before I hang up.