I look up at Jack as we walk, staring long enough for him to meet my gaze. His eyes narrow at my beaming smile. “I’m your girlfriend?”

His eyes sharpen further. “Really? That is what you take away from that conversation?”

I shrug as my smile blooms brighter. “It’s the only unexpected thing from it, really. I’d hoped the Sebastian idea would work, but it was a gamble.” I focus on the path ahead before Jack can delve too deeply into the details of my expression. “Not an ideal result, but not our last resort.”

“Not ideal…Your ability to see on the positive side of certain situations is…distressing.” Jack lets go of my hand, but only long enough to drape his arm across my shoulders and pull me into his side. “He thinks you’re unhinged,” he says against the shell of my ear, keeping his voice low as we pass a group of unfamiliar students.

I snort a laugh. “He’s not wrong.”

“He obviously has concerns about both of us if he’s asking about my trip.”

“And you did such a good job making yourself look like the picture of innocence by saying you’d take me along next time. That didn’t sound threatening at all.”

“I need his attention off you, elskede.”

I look up and meet Jack’s eyes. The moment I do is the one that confirms that I need to act now, while I have the advantage with Hayes. Because fury isn’t the only fire to brighten the mercury surrounding Jack’s dilated pupils.

Excitement. A thirst that burns. For our kind, killing is not just a desire, but a need, and once it takes hold it will not let go.

Jack is going to hunt him. And my instinct tells me that Hayes will be ready if he does.

Jack’s jaw tics as his gaze rakes across my face. He manages to subdue his predatory craving, but not fast enough. “We need to get Hayes out of the picture soon, before he stumbles on something viable to follow. The longer he remains, the greater the risk.”

He’s right, of course. Hayes is not all that different to us. Feral. Unpredictable. Hayes is beholden to no process, to no master but his obsession.

I give Jack a sparkling smile, letting it touch my eyes before I turn my attention to the building in the distance.

“Don’t worry, petal,” I reply, patting Jack’s hand. “I’ve got a plan.”

There’s a lengthy pause as we continue down the winding path.

“Care to share?”

“Not yet, no.”

Jack grumbles something in Danish but doesn’t let go, not even as we fall into silence, nor as we pass a trio of forensic students who greet us with grins that are ready for gossip. It’s only once we’re in the research lab that any space grows between us, and for the first time, the distance is a relief.

A breath of air before the plunge into an abyss.

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NINETEEN

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LUMINOUS

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KYRIE

Jack and I share only a few glances as the budget meeting drags on for nearly two hours, and we leave campus as soon as it’s done. We go straight to Jack’s house, and though I don’t feel like it, I prattle on about random shit on the short drive, keeping my happy little mask in place even though my mind is churning to the point of exhaustion. By the time we walk through the door to the sound of Cornetto’s excited wooing and the new robot vacuum’s whirling motor, I feel ready to down the rest of the Tequila bottle I didn’t finish the other night, no glass required.

But I don’t inhale the Tequila. I have to keep my head clear, even though I’m desperate to anesthetize this relentless, growing unease that crawls across my skull.

At the end of the day, I stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, just watching my eyes, their color so like my dad’s, their shape so like my mom’s. Everything behind them is different from what my parents would have expected me to be. What they would have wanted. Maybe I should feel guilty for that. I’m their living legacy, after all. Yet I don’t.

All I feel is need.

A need to slide my knife into Haye’s throat. A need to feel his last breath tremble in my hand.

A need to protect Jack. 

I'm clutching the edge of the square basin with a white-knuckled grip when he stops at the door as though my thoughts have conjured him.

“Thinking about Hayes?” he asks as he leans against the door frame, folding his arms across his bare chest, a pair of low-slung sweats clinging to his hips. I tear my gaze from the delicious display of muscle, a sudden ache protesting in my core as I drop my attention to my bleached skin stretched thin across the curves of bone.

“Maybe a little.”

“You’re worried.”

“Sure. I guess.”

“This plan of yours, are you going to share it with me?”

I meet Jack’s eyes through the reflection in the mirror. Though I smile, it has little energy left to shine very bright. “After I take care of a few things first, yes. Of course.”

“And how long will these things take?”

My shoulders rise and fall with a noncommittal shrug. “A couple of days at most.”

I let go of the sink and turn to face Jack. This is one lie I wish I didn’t have to tell. Regret unfurls in my chest like a blossom reaching for a distant light. I wonder if I’ve forgotten how to feel it. It’s raw and unfamiliar.

Jack doesn’t move, doesn’t press for more. If he knows I’m lying, he doesn’t call me out. Maybe he just thinks I’m rattled by Hayes, which is true. I am. He simply raises his brows, the question so clear in his subtle expression.

What do you need?

I come closer, each step slow and measured, and when I’m within reach, Jack unfolds his arms and straightens. My fingers trace his ribs as I slide my arms around him, mapping the ridges of muscle and bone in his back, his skin soft and smooth beneath my light touch. My eyes drift close as I press my cheek to the steady beat of Jack’s heart and sigh. It takes a breath, as though some gentle moments still take getting used to, but then his arms enfold me and keep me pressed close.

I relish the steady thrum of breaths and heartbeats for a long moment before I take a step back into the bathroom, pulling Jack along with me. Then another, and another, until we stop at the edge of the shower and I let go.

No words pass between us as I pull my t-shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor, discarding my sleep shorts next. When I straighten, I step into the shower and turn it on, not breaking the connection of our fused gaze. The cold water pelts my skin, drawing out a shiver when it prickles my scalp and falls over my shoulders, tightening my nipples to painful buds as it cascades down my pebbled skin. But I don’t turn the temperature up. I hold my hand out to Jack instead.

He doesn’t take it. Not yet.

The touch of his gaze starts from the tips of my toes and the water that slides down my ankles. It flows against the current of every rivulet that snakes down my shins, passing over ancient dents, marks of accidents long forgotten. His eyes heat a path up my thighs, lingering on my pussy and the narrow patch of hair that shines with cold water. When a long moment passes, he ascends through the spray of gooseflesh on my stomach, the skin paling as blood pulls to my core to keep my vital organs warm. Jack’s gaze slows again on my twin scars and darkens. From the moment we first met, our history was stitched in my skin, some threads ending where new ones intertwine.

Jack swallows before dragging his focus up higher, first to one breast and then the other, watching the rise and fall of their fullness with each breath. He pauses where my heart and its quickening beat lays hidden in darkness. His eyes follow the stream of water that flows between my clavicles, passing up my neck, lingering on my lips, pausing on my cheek where he sometimes likes to lay a gentle kiss to tickle my lashes. When he finally meets my eyes, I feel worshiped. Precious and unique.