Pure Requiem - Aja James Page 0,31

a label on it, sure, you can use that one. What are you?”

For some reason, I answer truthfully, “Likely asexual. Maybe nonsexual. I’m not attracted to anyone.”

“You sure about that?” She raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Pretty certain,” I confirm.

“Shame. Sex makes the world go round, bookworm.”

I finally turn to face her and stop pretending I’m only slightly paying attention.

“Now that I am no longer in my Binu disguise with glasses and a perfectly done do, shouldn’t you stop calling me bookworm?”

“Fair,” she acknowledges. “You look more like a ‘Black Beauty’ in this form. All that dark hair and bold brows. You’re prettier than most of the females in the Shield, and that’s really sayin’ somethin’.”

I grimace at the moniker.

“I am not a horse.”

“’Course, those eyes of yours are fuckin’ unreal. Like a slice of blue-green heaven.”

The moment she says the words, the room seems to shrink and explode around us as if we were caught in the shockwaves of a supersonic explosion.

My ears ring with a shrill, buzzing alarm. My head feels like it’s been split by lightning, and nausea and vertigo overwhelm me, making me crash to the floor in an undignified heap, clutching my head between my hands, trying to push back the excruciating pressure threatening to cave in my skull.

Distantly, I realize that Liv is similarly affected. She’s kneeling on the floor too, her eyes shut tight, jaw clenched.

Drip, drip, drip.

We’re both bleeding, dripping dark red blood from our noses.

It might have been eons before we regain enough equilibrium to form words. Liv’s tongue works first, while mine remains a swollen glob of useless muscle in my mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, An-Nisi. Did you do something to me? Where did that shockwav—”

My ears ring so shrilly I can’t hear myself all but screech, “What did you say?! What did you call me?”

“I-I said…”

She pauses too, a horrified expression on her face as those owlish eyes grow to twice their size.

Owlish eyes…

Why are they so familiar?

Why is she so familiar?

Oh gods, the pain! Why does it hurt so bad?

I feel ripped asunder from the inside out. I can’t stand this suffocating agony!

So, that’s when I pass the fuck out.

*** *** *** ***

“Hey.”

I blink up at dark, elvish, owlish eyes two inches from my own. She looks like a Beanie Boo, but a lot less cute, and a lot more creepy.

(Yeah, I have a stuffed animal fetish, who doesn’t).

Reflexively—honestly, it was pure instinct, happened before my brain could even wake up—I swing my right fist into her jaw.

“Fuck!” I squeal upon impact like an eight-year-old girl, while Liv simply grunts as her head snaps back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I think I broke my hand! What the hell is your jaw made of? Granite?”

She tips her chin back and works her jaw from left to right. It doesn’t look broken like my hand feels.

“That wasn’t half bad, pretty boy. But yeah, it does sound like you broke a couple knuckles. Probably a boxer’s fracture. You’re a Pure One, ain’t ya? Or a vamp? You’ll survive.”

I cradle my right hand in my left, holding it against my stomach, taking deep breaths to deal with the pain.

I’ve never wounded myself through voluntary violence before. Violence was always forced upon me. A broken hand from punching someone is a whole new experience that I’d rather not repeat.

“Where are we?” I ask, looking around.

“One of the healing chambers,” the little fiend responds. “Not the official one where Rain does her business. This is more of an infirmary where soldiers go for quick treatment and rest if we’re wounded from battle or training.”

“How did you get me here?” seems like the next logical question.

“Tristan carried you here. He came through the entertainment room right after you passed out. Your vitals were fine, and your nose stopped bleeding, so we decided your blackout wasn’t cause for alarm and got you here. Rain came by a little later and checked you with her zhen. You’re fine.”

I shiver at the thought of that needle-like hair, the kabuki doll face. The Pure Ones’ healer freaks me out a little. (A lot.)

“Why are you here?” I accuse, glaring daggers at her, as if it’s her fault her jaw collided with my fist and broke it.

She makes herself more comfortable on the narrow bed next to mine (I didn’t even realize I was sitting on one) and considers me in silence for a while.

It’s a new look on her. Consideration and silence.

“I figured we needed to talk when you woke up, An-Nisi,” she finally