Dangerous Creatures(83)

She just looked at him. “You’re crazy. You know that?”

“Hey, I may not have a band, but I have you, don’t I?”

“Don’t you always?”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Link pulled her hair back until he could see the tiny sparkling S studs in her ears. “What are those?”

“The earrings? I guess I forgot to take them off.” S for Siren. S for Sirene. From a certain Caster closet. They reminded her of dinner under the stars, on the roof of the Met.

Cinderella at the ball of the damned, she thought.

“Those real diamonds?” Link looked at her. “Don’t tell me.” He shook his head. “I can’t compete with that.”

“With what?” Ridley smoothed her hair back over her ears, self-conscious now.

“With Mr. New York City. With all the flash and the cash.”

“Mr. New York City saved our lives,” she said.

“Sure, from himself. From what he was plannin’ to do to us in the first place. If you want to get technical.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m not him. I’ll never be him.” Link fixed his eyes on the road. “I’m a Southern boy. When I get you earrings, they’re gonna come from the mall. You should know that by now.”

Something inside Ridley broke. She was overwhelmed by feelings, more than she’d ever wanted. More than she knew what to do with.

For what I have, and what I’ve lost. Who I have, and who I’ve lost.

But Ridley and Link had survived. They were together. They had now, and they had each other. That was the most important thing.

She only wished she knew how to tell him that.

Ridley looked at Link. “I don’t want you to be anyone except Wesley Lincoln, from Gatlin, South Carolina.”

“That’s sweet as sugar, Sugar. I wish I believed you, but that doesn’t make it any less sweet.”

“Link.”

“Come on. We both know Lennox Gates owns guys like me.”

Rid touched his shoulder. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want you to kiss me, you idiot.”

She realized it was true the moment she said it.

Link bit his lip, thinking. “No way. If you’re going to be with me, it’s not going to be because we made out in the alley one time and then you felt sorry for me.”

“We’re not in an alley. Now kiss me.”

“I said no. If we’re going to be in this together, it’s going to be because we both want to be. Because we respect each other, and we need each other. And we love—”

“Kiss me,” she said.

Slowly, he pulled the car over to the side of the highway.

Link walked around to the passenger side of the Beater and pulled open the door. He was down on one knee, mostly because that was the only way he could fold his supersized body compactly enough to bring his head to her level.

Ridley looked down at him from her seat. “Can I help you, Wesley Lincoln?”

“Ridley Duchannes. Is there even one stupid tiny little part of you that loves one stupid tiny little part of me?”

She looked at him, blinking back tears. She could’ve prevented all this if she had just flung her arms around him the first time he’d told her he loved her, and kissed his sweet face, and confessed that she’d always loved him, too.

They wouldn’t have fought. She wouldn’t have fled the country and, ultimately, the whole Mortal world. She wouldn’t have tried to lose herself in a stupid card game.

Suffer was the perfect name for the club where she’d almost lost it all. And it described what both of them had been doing since the moment she’d set foot in that place. But if Ridley was honest with herself, she had already been suffering for three months by the time she found her way there.

Why?

Because she couldn’t tell one stupid boy who she loved with every muscle in her stupidly broken heart that she loved him more passionately and more deeply than she’d ever loved anyone in the world?

Ridley couldn’t go back to that afternoon in the Dar-ee Keen. It hurt too much. She couldn’t walk back through any of the wrong paths she’d taken.

Instead, she closed her eyes and started to cry, really cry.

She melted into Link’s arms, burying her face in his shoulder, pressing her runny nose into his spiky hair, like he’d been waiting for her to do since that first time he said it.



Wesley Lincoln finally got his answer, even if it was wet snot on his neck. Even if Ridley Duchannes was speechless and all she could manage was a nod.

Even if it was a long time coming, longer than back-to-back Shark Weeks, longer than a whole summer vacation of E-rated video games, and even longer than Summerville’s marathon Battle of the Bad Bands.

Link would take it. He could wait for the rest, even if it took the rest of his long life.

In that moment, the longest standoff in recorded history—at least, all the history recorded between this particular Caster and this particular quarter Incubus—came to a short, sweet end.

Together they were ready to take on the world.

Or hide from it, indefinitely.

They were still working out the plan.



“Next question, darlin’.”