Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,63
that refuses to stay behind his left ear.
I shake my head at the thought. No, no – it doesn’t matter that he’s cute, I tell myself. We’re completely different species. Well, maybe not that different... Besides our skin hues being off by a few shades, him being peach and me redder, the only other main difference is the three inches he’s got on me. Those things aside, we’re completely alike. Compatible. No, no! We’re not compatible. The fae laws prohibit interspecies dating, Rosalie! Jeesh! Get it through your thick head already!
He sits beside me and my heart races, ignoring my internal pleas to cease and desist. “Your face is filling out again and you’re getting some meat back on your bones.”
I look down at my ribs because I have no bucket of water to check my reflection in. Sure enough, I can tell the gap between my ribs has lessened a bit. Happiness blooms within and my lips curl upwards. “Yay,” I sing softly, patting my abdomen.
Jack smears his thumb over the purplish powder and raises his hand to my face. Surprisingly, I don’t flinch, completely trusting whatever he plans to do. Or maybe I just secretly want to feel his touch again. His hand caresses my cheek and a burst of tickles erupt inside me, but I hold my breath and keep my exterior reactions locked tight. He holds our gaze momentarily, then focuses on his thumb as it dabs the powder beneath my eyes.
I pull back, and he quickly releases his grasp. “I don’t think that goes there.”
“It does when you’re trying to make a certain pixie look sicker than she really is. Your eye cavities aren’t that hollow any more. I’m trying to darken them so they’ll be less noticeable when Finley shows up.”
“Oh.” I lean forward and Jack resumes coloring my face. His touch doesn’t get the same reaction this time – I’m too focused on what he said. When Finley shows up. I’m unsure of the days, but Jack’s right. Finley will probably make another appearance soon. What if he can tell I’m gaining weight and that Jack’s being nice to me? It’ll be horrible if something happens to Jack because of me. And what if Finley breaks my wings again? Or worse, dismisses Jack permanently? What if I never see him again after today?
I shudder. My eyes close and my head dips a little.
Jack’s finger lifts my chin. “Hey,” he says softly. I open my eyes, but sorrow has taken control of my emotions. “Try not to think about it.”
Evading my worries over losing Jack, I express my concerns for the second most horrifying thought bouncing around inside my head. “But my wings are already so mangled. If he breaks them again, they’ll never heal.”
“You don’t know that. And we don’t even know if Finley will come back here any time soon. Maybe we can come up with something that’ll get him to put you back in the pit.”
I recoil and my forehead furrows, my eyebrows pinching with anger. “You want to put me back in the pit?”
“Rosalie! No!” he bursts. Taking a second to calm himself, he says, “Trust me when I say that not a day goes by when I’m not trying to think of a way to get you out of here.”
“You are?”
He blows a long breath through his nose and glares, like I should have known that from the start. His face slowly softens and he caresses my face once more to resume dabbing the powder beneath my eyes. “Of course I am. Do you really think I’m just pixie-sitting you until Finley comes along and tells me to beat it? No. Every night I go home and look through my father’s law books to see if I can’t find something that’ll get you released. You’re here unlawfully and it’s not right. So, no. I don’t want you to go back to the pit. But I also don’t want you stuck in this hole to be Finley’s punching bag either.”
Jack wipes his thumb on a hand towel, dabs his other thumb in the plum powder, then begins working beneath my other eye.
“Does your father know what you’re doing?”
A puff of air rushing past his lips, he answers, “No. He wouldn’t understand.”
“Doesn’t he want you to follow in his footsteps though? Wouldn’t studying his books every night please him?”
“If the circumstances were any different, probably.”
“And I’m the awkward circumstance,” I state meekly.
He doesn’t answer until he’s satisfied with the amount of