Just us.
The song is ending. The violins rise, that final, aching note hanging in the air, and then, silence.
I look up.
He looks down.
And before I can think, before I can stop him, before I can do anything at all, he kisses me.
The kiss is not gentle, not tentative. It’s demanding and desperate andhungry, his mouth claiming mine like he’s been dying for this, like he’s been holding himself back for weeks and finally, finally let go. His hand cups the back of my head, fingers threading through my ruined hair, and he kisses me like the world is ending.
For a heartbeat, I let myself feel it. The heat. The need. The impossible miracle of someone’s lips on mine.
Then, reality crashes back.
Because my kiss always end in death.
I gasp and shove him away, my hands flat against his chest, my whole body trembling. My mouth is tingling—not from pleasure, but from terror—and I’m staring at his face, waiting for the twitch, the spasm, the first sign the poison is taking hold.
Four minutes. That’s how long Toby took. How long they all take. Four minutes from kiss to flatline.
“Mia?” He frowns, confusion replacing the heat in his eyes. “What?—”
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m so sorry?—”
“You’re sorry? What? No, Mia, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He reaches for me, and I flinch like he’s burned me.
“Hey.” His voice is gentle now, concerned. “It’s okay. I couldn’t help myself. Terrible excuse, I know.”
You didn’t do anything wrong. I did. I let this happen. I let myself kill you.
“I just—I can’t—” I’m babbling, words tumbling over each other as I watch his face for any sign of distress. His pupils. His breathing. The color of his skin. Any second now, he’s going to start convulsing. Any second now, I’m going to watch another person die. A person I actually have feelings for.
And yet, he’s still standing there, still frowning at me with those blue eyes, still breathing, stillalive.
Nothing.
“Was it that bad?” he asks quietly as the seconds tick by.
I stare at him.
He’s not dying.
He’snot dying.
CHAPTER 15
MIA
The seconds stretchinto eternity as I stare at Vanguard, waiting for the seizure that doesn’t come. Waiting for the foam at his lips, the collapse, the terrible stillness that follows. I’ve seen it so many times, and my body is braced for impact, every muscle coiled tight in anticipation of the horror about to unfold.
But he just stands there, frowning at me with those blue eyes, looking confused and a little hurt and very, very alive.
One minute.
Two.
