Vanish (Firelight #2)(20)

He doesn’t move. I hit him again. Still nothing. He takes it. Stares at me from the impenetrable black of his eyes. With a strangled cry, I hit him again and again. Landing blows anywhere I can reach. My vision blurs, and I realize I’m crying.

This only infuriates me more. Breaking down in front of Cassian, losing control, succumbing to weakness as he stands witness . . .

“Jacinda,” he says, then again, louder, because I don’t stop, can’t stop the flurry of my fists on the solid wall of him. “Enough!”

He stops me. I guess he always could have, but now he actually does it. He hauls me close, not so much a hug as a body lock, both arms wrapped around me.

It’s disconcerting, our bodies so close, pressed tightly together. Our breaths fall in a fast, matching rhythm.

I pull back my head, look into his face. See him as I never have.

He’s no longer looking at me. It feels like he’s looking inside me, his gaze probing. Accepting me for me. A closeness I haven’t felt with anyone since I arrived here sweeps through me. And it’s a promise of an end to my numbing loneliness. If I let it happen. Let this happen.

I panic again. Because it’s Cassian.

A sob strangles in my throat and spills raggedly from my lips. I close my eyes in a long and miserable blink and pull myself together again. Wrenching from his warm embrace, I barrel past him.

He grabs my arm as I pass and swings me around like we’re doing a dance move.

I glare at that hand on my arm. “Let me go.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling with breath. “What’s this really about? Why are you running from me?”

I say nothing at first, the only noise the crashing of my ragged breath. Then, I burst. “You lied to me!”

He cuts the murky air with one of his big, crushing hands. “When have I lied to you?”

I continue as if I don’t hear him. And I don’t. Not really. It’s finally gotten to me—how quickly he dropped me once Tamra manifested. “I wasn’t special to you. You just saw the fire-breather. Like everyone else. It was never me.” And now it’s Tamra. Only it’s not her either. She’s only one thing to him, and everyone else—the pride’s precious shader.

Now I know. Now I see him for what he is.

“I’ve only ever been honest with you.” His nostrils flare, ridges popping up on the bridge of his nose, rising in and out with the surge of his temper. I should back down at the sight, but then I’ve never been one to do what I should.

“Right,” I spit out.

He’s shaking now, his eyes more purple than black. “You want to hear some truth, Jacinda? How about this? I can’t stand the sight of you. Not when you’re moping around here like someone who needs to be on a suicide watch . . . all for a guy who’s probably already forgotten about you and moved on to the next hunt.”

My fingers curl into fists, cutting into my palms. I want to say so much right then—mostly that Will hasn’t forgotten me. But I shouldn’t argue this point. I should hope it’s true. I’ve vowed to let Will go, but a desperate hunger for him still twists through me—a viper writhing through my body, working its poison.

I don’t have Will. I have nothing. Nothing but a frantic need to grab on to something, anything to keep me afloat in the desert of my existence.

Instead, I say, “And me dead would just break you up, wouldn’t it?”

He stares at me so starkly, incredulous. “You think I’d want you dead?” His eyes are wide and searching. They make me start to doubt myself, that maybe he does care about me. I begin to shake as confusing thoughts and feelings whirl through me. “What do you want from me, Jacinda?”

I glance at his hand still on my arm. My skin swims with heat, especially where he touches me.

“Let me go.” He stands so close, towering over me, making me feel small when I’m not. “I have to go,” I say louder. And I do. I have to go. Now.

In answer, his skin blurs, his darker draki flesh flashing in and out beneath his human skin, reminding me of what he is. What I am. And I can’t help remembering how everyone always thought we were perfectly matched. Now they think that about him and Tamra.

His lip curls back from his teeth, the white startling against his olive-hued skin. “Why? So you can be alone? Is that what you prefer? Gutting fish in the day and then crying into your pillow at night? That’s what you want? Has it occurred to you that I haven’t pulled away from you as much as you’ve pushed me away? You’re nothing but a selfish, scared little girl who’d rather lick her wounds than live.”

His words strike deep, arrowing directly for the heart. Too close to the truth. You’re nothing but a selfish, scared little girl. . . .

My vision shifts, grows crisper, and I know I’m staring out at him through vertical pupils. Steam eats up my throat, burns through my mouth and nostrils.

I stagger back a step. He doesn’t move this time. He lets me go.

Turning, I sprint through damp air until my lungs burn and feel ready to burst from my too-tight chest. I revel in it—a pleasure that borders on pain, a welcome distraction. Even as I slow my pace, I vow to keep going, keep walking until I’ve regained composure. Until I no longer feel Cassian’s arms around me. Until I no longer hear his words. Selfish, scared little girl. Selfish, scared little girl.