Of Frost & Cinder (Old Version)

Strange Blood

Chapter Five:

This is what I get for saving you. The words scrape down my neck like the lick from a sandpaper tongue.

He's insane, I think. He's utterly insane.

Save me? He didn't save me--hell, he just tried to attack me!

"You about ready to get that gun out of my face?" He says, turning his bare torso towards me.

Another hard look at him and I do lower the weapon—not because of the way his eyes appear so confusingly sincere, but because the wound I had inflicted ten minutes ago, the one that had just been gushing blood and gaping, is completely and solidly sealed. There's no trace of an infliction, save a faint pink line and the blood coagulating on the floor.

"Second goddamn time I've ripped these jeans," he mutters, scrubbing off the rest of the blood off his abs. A little louder, he adds, "You owe me a shirt. Mediums work, but I prefer a large for comfort."

"W-what are you?" The words come out faster than I can comprehend them.

"What I am is annoyed."

I shake my head almost reflexively. He knows what I mean. He has to.

"What I am is also curious," his eyes peel away from the fresh rag he's using to wipe off his hands before taking two strides toward me.

I readjust my grip on the handle of the gun, readying myself to draw it up again.

"You're curious?" I let a snort escape. He just rejuvenated skin like a freaking starfish.

"You don't remember me." He says it like I should, like he's pissed off that I don't.

"Hard to carry a memory when we've only just met," I say and instantly he growls. His eyes are sharp, raking me over with some sort of implacable disgust. The look instantly makes me want to shrink, like I'm the most ridiculous thing he's ever had to look at.

He pushes back his damp hair and closes in the space between us in under one breath. In the next, he takes the gun, and dismantles the chamber before tossing the pieces across the trailer.

I jump when I hear the metal clatter against the tile.

"Now," the guy says, stepping close to me like he did in the yard, "don't budge this time. I need you to be calm."

His hands lift to hold my face again and automatically I tense.

"Stay fucking still," he yips, and for once, I listen.

I barely try to breathe, "You're not going to do anything weird, are you?"

He grunts, craning his neck down to look at me with our noses level, "In my entire life, you have been the single, biggest pain in my ass."

Before I can question this, the tip of his nose brushes down my artery, cutting off my internal dialogue. Just like before, his nose traces along my collarbone and back up my neck, pressing deep into the nook. Only this time I don't try to gut him with my skate.

He lingers in this area for a few seconds, the sound of him sniffing filling my head, before he lets go of my chin and steps back.

His face is shaded darker than it was before he dove in.

"What, do I smell bad?" I mumble, reflexively putting a hand to my neck, and he recoils with a look like I'm the biggest idiot he's ever met.

"Where's your bathroom?" he grunts.

I point to the left and instantly, he barrels down the hallway. I follow behind, but he's already digging through the cabinets and cupboards by the time I reach the open door.