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“Joss.” he breathes in my ear.
I halt my arm just in time, just as the tip of my knife is pressing into his flesh.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ryan says quickly, feeling the prick of my knife. “Jesus, Joss, don’t stab me.”
“Dunf creen ab vee.” I growl against his hand. I’m breathing hard through my nose, my adrenaline spiked and coursing like lightning through my veins. I can feel his chest rising and falling against my back. It’s slow and even.
“I know, I’m sorry I grabbed you.” he apologizes in a whisper, somehow understanding my angry muffle speak. “If I let you go, will you scream?”
“I erfer seen.”
“No,” he chuckles softly. “I guess you wouldn’t. I’m letting go. Please don’t stab me.”
He releases me in one quick motion like he’s releasing a wild animal. His hands go up in defense and he takes a step back when I round on him, knife still ready in my hand.
“If I was going to stab you, you’d already be dead. Or dying.” I say, my voice tense but quiet.
He smiles. “I believe it.”
“What are you doing here? Why did you grab me?”
“I heard a Colonist truck coming by a little while ago.”
My eyes shoot to the street, sca
“It’s gone.” Ryan assures me. “I was writing you a message when I heard it so I hid in here. Even after it left, though, I was worried it could come back. I was worried you’d be writing back to me when it did.”
“So you waited for me?”
“Yeah.”
“That was stupid.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re welcome.”
“You’re staying out in the open for too long. What if a Risen wandered by? You have that cut on your arm and—“
“How do you know about that?”
I stop and berate myself for being the stupid one.
“I was there. In the woods. I saw you guys take the buck down.”
He grins at me looking proud. “You saw that? Pretty good, right?”
I shrug, looking away. “You got hurt doing it, so it wasn’t that impressive.”
“You’re cold. And jealous. Trent’s an amazing hunter. You should dream of having half his skills.”
“Which one was Trent? The tall guy?”
“Yeah. He’s our main lookout. He’s usually parked in the crow’s nest but we pull him out for hunting now and then because he’s just so freakishly good at it. He hears and sees everything.”
“Yeah, I believe it.” I mutter, remembering his eyes and feeling uncomfortable all of the sudden. Feeling watched.
“So, hey, my message wasn’t finished. I was going to ask if you need anything. Are you doing okay?”
I frown at him. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, obviously, but it doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. You helped me.”
“And it almost got me killed. Twice.”
He smirks and looks at the knife still at the ready in my hand. “Are you going to kill me if I try to help you? Even the score?”
I sheath my knife and take a step back, pressing my back against the cold, stone wall behind me. “I don’t need your help. Thanks.”
“Because you said ‘thanks’ and that probably nearly killed you, I’ll let it go. But if you ever need anything will you ask me?”
“Probably not.”
He grins. “You’re difficult.”
“You’re dangerous.” I mutter before I can think.
He lifts his eyebrows in surprise and takes a step toward me. It’s not much, he’s not touching me, but I still feel claustrophobic because of it. Because of one small step.
“You scared of me, Joss?”
I snort. “What’s there to be scared of?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s a dumb question.”
“I don’t think so.”
He takes another step toward me.
“You don’t think at all.” I tell him, trying to sound angry but it comes out breathy and strained.
“I’m thinking pretty hard right now.” he says, taking another step closer until he’s nearly touching me. He’s looking down at me with his warm eyes and I can see hunger in them. Not the Risen hunger I’m used to and not the starved animal hunger I see all around me during the winter. This is different. New. Exciting.
“You’re thinking with the wrong parts.” I whisper. “That’s what makes you dangerous.”
When he chuckles I feel his breath on my face. He doesn’t back up and I don’t push him away. I should, though. I should get out of here, away from him and never write on that wall again. But it’s already been done and whatever damage we’ll incur for all of this is already here or swiftly on the way. There are things I’ve seen, heard, felt and want that I never understood could actually exist outside the frame of my tiny TV. And this Pandora’s Box, once opened, does not close easily.
I close the distance between us. I step up on my toes. I lean forward. I grasp his face in my hands and pull him closer.
And I kiss him.
It’s better than before. It’s slower, easier. He holds on to me loosely, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my hips against his. His hands are big on my back, his breath warm on my face. I’ve never been held like this. I’ve never had hands touch me with such tense tenderness. I can feel the want coiled in them, the desire to push and gain whatever ground they can, but they hold off. He holds off. Ryan takes his time and reins them in, telling them to wait and there’s a sweetness to that restraint that stands apart from all of the grappling, needy, violence of the world. It’s such a contrast it makes my breath hitch in my lungs and my blood warm to the surface and I know I’m blushing as he kisses me. As he smiles against my mouth and I smile back and I think I laugh in the back of my throat. Or was it him? Either way, it’s there between us and it’s decadent and delicious.
He moves his mouth from mine and trails it across my jaw, down under my earlobe and against my neck.
“You are,” he murmurs. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
I chuckle. “I’m probably the only girl you’ve ever seen.”
He pulls his face back to look at me. “I’ve seen other girls. I wasn’t born to this anymore than you were.”
“You’re right. I’m the only girl you’ve seen lately.”
He lowers his eyes and shakes his head slightly. “That’s not true either.”
“Where have you seen other women?” He doesn’t answer me. He keeps his arms around me and his gaze down, looking somewhere along my collarbone. Finally I ask, “Other gangs?”
He nods minutely and meets my eyes again. His are apologetic and I’m instantly nervous.
“Your gang?” I ask, pushing away from him.
“No.” he says firmly. “We don’t keep slaves. Men or women.”
“That’s very noble.” I say sarcastically.
Ryan scowls at me and his voice grows hard. “It kind of is. Even the Colonists are using people as slaves. Almost every gang in the city keeps at least a female or two. They bring them to market with pop up tents and use them as currency, a currency we don’t take.”
I look at him skeptically. “None of you?”
He grinds his teeth together briefly, his eyes angry. “Sometimes some of the guys will trade personal wares for time with the women. As a whole, we don’t do it but individually, that’s their business.”
“It’s sick.”
“I know.”
“Have you ever done it?”
“I just agreed that it’s sick.” he says, sounding exasperated.
“Just because it’s sick doesn’t mean you won’t do it. You didn’t like killing a man but you did it anyway.”
It’s a low blow. Before the words are even out of my mouth I wish I could pull them back in.
His eyes are on fire now. “That’s what you think? That’s how you see me?”
I regret this conversation so much. How did we go from that kiss to this? How does this world seep into everything and rot it from the inside out? You can’t find something beautiful here without it dying in your hand before you can make it home.
“You know what?” Ryan says angrily. “I’m out of here. Good luck.”
He goes to step past me and into the light. Into the outside and out of my life and the pang in my chest is a gnawing pain that rips me wide open. How hard is it really? How difficult is it to have something and not throw it away because it’s nothing like what you’re used to? Nothing you’ve ever needed or had before. How hard is it to let yourself want something simply for the sake of wanting it? Just to make it yours?