scare me like that!” I gasped, clutching at my heart. “Jeez! Is your superpower that you’re part phantom?”
I felt – rather than saw – his eyes linger on the clothing I’d donned. A shiver ran through me. “I don’t have a superpower. Where’d you get the clothes?”
He didn’t have a superpower? Well, that was news to me. Everyone in Carova assumed – probably because of his black eyes and generally petrifying demeanor – that Achilles harbored some deep, dark ability. Telepathy, maybe, or a superhuman intellect. To hear that he didn’t have one was … oddly comforting.
“I found them.” I jutted my chin out defensively. “And if you want them back, you’ll have to do better than order your ‘right-hand man’ to do your dirty work for you.”
He stalked towards me, but I didn’t get the same feeling as when Molten did it – perhaps because I knew Achilles wasn’t about to do something unforgivable. Was he really that predictable to me already?
When we were a foot apart, he crouched down so we were eye to eye. “Keep them, but I don’t want yo u snooping around my place when I’m not here. You want something, just ask the guys outside. They won’t bother you again.”
“What did you do to Molten?”
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
“ Nothing ? But he –”
“I know what he did,” he said simply. “I watched the surveillance tape. He was stupid, to forget about it. But he was right, in some ways – I’m too possessive as it is when it comes to you. If I took revenge against him, it would just prove that theory right. And I can’t risk Molten becoming an enemy.” We stared at each other for what seemed like hours before he spoke again: “You called for me when he was attacking you.”
I resisted the urge to blush. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
Now it was my turn to shrug. “Better the devil you know, right?” It was the only reasonable explanation that I had. The other would have been something along the lines of, ‘It just happened!’.
“Did you believe I would help you?”
“No. But I…” I knew he’d see right through any lie I presented, so I opted with the simple truth. “I didn’t want to be alone with him.” Seeing as that was out in the open, I decided to use my confidence while I had it: “Are you planning on killing me, Achilles?”
It was the first time I’d used his name aloud, and he flinched at the word. Did he not like his own name? Or was it simply too weird for me to use it? “Are you planning on giving me what I want, Flick?”
I laughed hollowly. “Does it really matter? I would rather be dead than be your happy-drug dealer. And you would rather kill me than let me go. That doesn’t leave us much leeway, does it?” I sank further into the chaise with a sigh. “I know that small hit was enough to help you escape. And I know it’s addictive – that feeling of invincibility, that fearlessness. But I’m not lying when I say it’s like the worst type of drug imaginable. You’ll become dependent on me for it, and if I’m killed, or abducted, or manage to get beyond your reach, the withdrawal will kill you. You’ll kill yourself .”
“Are you speaking from personal experience?” he asked.
All the air left my body in one big rush, as though he’d punched me right in the lungs. “No,” I lied quickly. Too quickly – the smirk on his painted face told me he’d noticed.
“What happened, Flick? Did you dish out one too many hits and someone offed themselves because they couldn’t have you? I’m close, aren’t I?” His feral grin reappeared, and a strange noise escaped me, a mixture of a sob and a squawk. “Who was it, Flick? Someone close, hmm?”
“Stop it,” I rasped, cupping my face in my hands. Memories came to the surface and I instantly slammed them to the back of my mind, struggling to wrangle them back into th e closet they inhibited. “You have no right.”
“A parent? No, I don’t think so…” I jumped to my feet
I felt – rather than saw – his eyes linger on the clothing I’d donned. A shiver ran through me. “I don’t have a superpower. Where’d you get the clothes?”
He didn’t have a superpower? Well, that was news to me. Everyone in Carova assumed – probably because of his black eyes and generally petrifying demeanor – that Achilles harbored some deep, dark ability. Telepathy, maybe, or a superhuman intellect. To hear that he didn’t have one was … oddly comforting.
“I found them.” I jutted my chin out defensively. “And if you want them back, you’ll have to do better than order your ‘right-hand man’ to do your dirty work for you.”
He stalked towards me, but I didn’t get the same feeling as when Molten did it – perhaps because I knew Achilles wasn’t about to do something unforgivable. Was he really that predictable to me already?
When we were a foot apart, he crouched down so we were eye to eye. “Keep them, but I don’t want yo u snooping around my place when I’m not here. You want something, just ask the guys outside. They won’t bother you again.”
“What did you do to Molten?”
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
“ Nothing ? But he –”
“I know what he did,” he said simply. “I watched the surveillance tape. He was stupid, to forget about it. But he was right, in some ways – I’m too possessive as it is when it comes to you. If I took revenge against him, it would just prove that theory right. And I can’t risk Molten becoming an enemy.” We stared at each other for what seemed like hours before he spoke again: “You called for me when he was attacking you.”
I resisted the urge to blush. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
Now it was my turn to shrug. “Better the devil you know, right?” It was the only reasonable explanation that I had. The other would have been something along the lines of, ‘It just happened!’.
“Did you believe I would help you?”
“No. But I…” I knew he’d see right through any lie I presented, so I opted with the simple truth. “I didn’t want to be alone with him.” Seeing as that was out in the open, I decided to use my confidence while I had it: “Are you planning on killing me, Achilles?”
It was the first time I’d used his name aloud, and he flinched at the word. Did he not like his own name? Or was it simply too weird for me to use it? “Are you planning on giving me what I want, Flick?”
I laughed hollowly. “Does it really matter? I would rather be dead than be your happy-drug dealer. And you would rather kill me than let me go. That doesn’t leave us much leeway, does it?” I sank further into the chaise with a sigh. “I know that small hit was enough to help you escape. And I know it’s addictive – that feeling of invincibility, that fearlessness. But I’m not lying when I say it’s like the worst type of drug imaginable. You’ll become dependent on me for it, and if I’m killed, or abducted, or manage to get beyond your reach, the withdrawal will kill you. You’ll kill yourself .”
“Are you speaking from personal experience?” he asked.
All the air left my body in one big rush, as though he’d punched me right in the lungs. “No,” I lied quickly. Too quickly – the smirk on his painted face told me he’d noticed.
“What happened, Flick? Did you dish out one too many hits and someone offed themselves because they couldn’t have you? I’m close, aren’t I?” His feral grin reappeared, and a strange noise escaped me, a mixture of a sob and a squawk. “Who was it, Flick? Someone close, hmm?”
“Stop it,” I rasped, cupping my face in my hands. Memories came to the surface and I instantly slammed them to the back of my mind, struggling to wrangle them back into th e closet they inhibited. “You have no right.”
“A parent? No, I don’t think so…” I jumped to my feet
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