Damsel[ed]: Some Rescue Required (#2 of the Damsel[ed] series)

Chapter Forty-Seven: Poison

Heaven.

My head swimming, I blink to clear the darkness behind my bleary eyes. Blood glistens in slashes down Poison's face, red on white like peppermint stripes. My nails drip with blood too, glittering like liquid rubies in the low light. I'm loaded with this stuff. I ought to give vampirism a try. 

Poison blinks down at me, a constricting arm wrapped around my waist. His fingers dig into my hipbone, carving dents into my flesh. 

The room is small and stuffy and dark, lit only by the hazy red glow of an exit sign. I suck in a sharp breath. The light splashes his face pink, snips of white hair loose over his eyes. "Ow, Galaxy. Tell me, is Gatsby the only cat-fuse, or are you one too?"

Screw him. I yank my arm back, my nerves sizzling with the cold-hot heat of rage. I'm seeing in flashes. Poison: the guy who screws up everything. Who won't leave me alone, who took my Angel. Everything, every piece of me rattling inside wants to hurt him. And wheezing with rage as I am, I don't even try to hold it back. I ball my fingers, twist in his grip, and punch him in the eye. My knuckles sink into the skin, hitting the bone. He laughs and yelps in the same breath, a sound that makes my heart slam against my ribs so fast I think it'll beat itself misshapen. "Huh," he says. "Maybe not." The grip won't break. He squeezes me breathless, still laughing from deep in his throat like I'm a funny story to him. The sound makes me want to scream.

"Poison." I hold my body rigid. My voice is low, spooled together by the tightness in my throat. "Get your hands off me while I'm asking nicely."

"You should thank me." His face is smooth and blank like it's carved out of moonstone, a ghost of a smirk behind his whispery voice. "I just saved you from the supervillains. You can't handle the big guys."

"I didn't ask for your opinion on my XP!" I stamp my foot so hard the floor rocks beneath me. "Let go—s'il vous plaît— or I'll break every damned bone in that puny body of yours—"

"You think I'm puny?" He shakes his head, clicks his tongue. The iron-tinge smell of blood clings to him, too, like an expensive cologne that makes goosebumps break on my skin. "You're real funny, Heaven. Galaxy. Whatever you want me to call you."

"Galaxy." I hook my heel behind his bent knee, and with one kick I can feel the twiggy tendons snap. Hear them crack under my weight and his breath hitch into a silent scream. I shove him back, clenching his wrist in a trembling fist. My other fist comes crashing down on his collarbone and I wrench free. Wheezing, I hit the wall behind me, my blood hot in my veins. I snap my hands to my sides, grasping at the tears in my pants. Preparing myself mentally for another attack. I'm still groggy. Wish I could have coffee, something to put some blood back into my brain.

Poison staggers and grabs the back of his knee. He looks down at me with eyes flashing like broken police-lights. His jaw clenches, every muscle in his face tight with concentration, anger. The room is dark and the air is heavy, dust like mist as it whips up in the air.

What am I supposed to do in this type situation? Take him on? Scream for help? Hear him out? No one gave me a handbook on this! My head whirls like a carousel spun by storm winds, thoughts dumped here, thoughts dragged there, scattered like damn wooden ponies. Are Angel and Gats okay? What did Owl do to Gats? And Jay, can she be trusted around Angel? Should I run back now and watch her? Or should I stay here and learn what Poison wants? What does Poison want, anyway? I shake my head, and it all fizzles away, like static clearing from the back of my head. Only one question remains: why can't he leave me alone?

He has such a delicate face, the features dainty and sweet. Upturned nose, bottle-cap-round eyes, angled chin and smooth skin. His silver-white hair's tucked behind his ears, and he wears the smell of blood like a perfume. It makes me remember his phone call. Angel's muted cries and the sound of shattering glass turning the line to static.