through me. “Do you like me, or am I just a job to you?”
He grapples for a response, finally settling on, “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
No, they aren’t. “Do. You. Like. Me?”
“I...do,” he says and scowls, as if the admission is painful. Maybe it is. Friends have the power to hurt you in ways enemies never can.
He curses suddenly and throws a glance over his shoulder to the seat in back. “Enough! Leave us.”
My eyes go wide. “Someone’s here?”
He faces me again, his expression stony. “No.”
Word games. “Who was here?”
“One of my Flankers.” He flicks his tongue over an incisor. “Before you ask, Flankers are a subdivision of Laborer. They follow me to chronicle my exploits.”
One, I’d had no idea he had a tail. And two, someone actually chronicles his exploits? Like he’s what, a knight of the days of old with a troubadour?
I laugh at him—I can’t help it—and soon, he’s laughing with me.
When we hit a particularly nasty bump, I gasp. He winds an arm around my shoulders and I let him, offering no protest. I even lean against him of my own volition, resting my head in the hollow of his neck, where the scent of peat smoke and heather soothes me.
“Why don’t you take another nap?” he says. “I like listening to your one-sided conversations.”
He’s heard my sleep talking? Great! “What have I said?”
“Ten’s tears fall...”
“No. Ten tears fall. The number ten.”
“No. You clearly said Ten’s tears. Your name.”
I did? “Yeah, well, you leak liquid glitter when you’re injured.”
“Glitter? How dare you. My manliness is offended.”
“Your manliness will survive.”
He caresses my shoulder, almost as if he’s petting me. “A spirit doesn’t function like a body. While we have muscle and bone, we’re sustained only by Lifeblood, and when we lose it, we hemorrhage power.”
I try not to react to his touch...yeah, I try. “So, when you lose all your Lifeblood...”
“We experience Second-death.”
“So you can die, even inside the Shell.”
“Yes. I’ve lost many friends that way.”
The news...isn’t welcome. What happens afterward? Fusion, or the Rest?
Another air pocket causes us to lurch, and I go cold inside.
He attempts another distraction. “You should drop Sloan. She’ll always put her wants above your needs.”
“Someone else’s actions will never decide my own.” A facet of my free choice. One I embrace wholeheartedly.
The blue light flashes on his wrists, and he curses.
“A message?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“You aren’t going to respond?”
“No. It’s from Madame.”
“Madame...what?”
“Madame Arse Pain.” His teeth are clenched, his tone filled with disgust. “She’s my Leader.”
“Don’t like working for a woman, huh?”
“Don’t like her, period.”
“What’d she do—”
“Oh, no. I’m not airing my dirty past with her. You still have to deal with her.”
Ah. Madame Bennett.
The light flashes a second time, and he slaps his wrist. “She wants another progress report.”
Another. Just how many of our interactions has he shared with her? “Full disclosure. I’m walking away from you when we land.”
“Me? What’d I do?”
“What you know, Myriad knows and what Myriad knows, my parents know.”
“Your parents haven’t been told of your escape...yet.”
That’s something, at least. “Why the reprieve?”
“Prynne has only informed parents of the deceased, and I requested Myriad keep quiet about you. Your parents...annoy me. Your mother is hiding something, and your father is an adulterous prick.”
Shock and horror nearly choke me. “He’s cheating on my mom?”
Killian goes still. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head as the plane hits another nasty air pocket, the nose dipping. My internal organs shrivel and for a moment, my mind spins round and round on a carnival ride.
He tightens his grip on my shoulders. “Turbulence is natural, lass. We aren’t going to crash.”
“Don’t use the C-word!”
His chuckle is as beautiful as the rest of him. “I think everyone in the realms heard you. But don’t worry. I’m the big strong manly man and I’ll keep my weak little girl safe.”
“Jerk,” I mutter, but I begin to relax against him. I won’t think about my dad’s infidelity and the mental hatchet job it must be doing on my mom.
Killian leans down, his mouth hovering over my ear. I think he’s going to kiss the lobe but he whispers, “Do us both a favor and sign with Myriad.”
My heart hammers as I lift my head. “Killian—”
Our gazes connect, the air between us heating, crackling. He presses his forehead against mine and cups my nape, his thumb stroking up, into my hair and down, under the collar of my shirt.
“I don’t just want you,” he says. “I want you.”
“I don’t understand the difference,” I tell him honestly. Even