He glances up from the page he’s staring at and gives me that condescending look, like I’m a toddler throwing mashed potato about.
“I’ll stay, thanks.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I reply, trying to keep my temper in check and failing. “I know that Silver’s blind when it comes to you. She trusts you for some weird fucking reason. But I find it hard to believe you’re gonna help us find the key to your own demise and hand it right over.”
That earns me a raised eyebrow. “I don’t want Simpson ruling the city any more than you do.”
And the asshole just turns back to his book and acts like I didn’t even say anything.
I huff out a frustrated breath. Then realize that I’m acting like an asshole, especially when I spot the hopeful expression on Silver’s face as she makes her way back to our cramped and dusty corner.
Fuck, I don’t want to be here. The last thing I want to be spending my time doing is reading all about vamps and their sick tendencies. But I’m not gonna leave Silver here alone with the vamp. And since Fabian’s about to pop off with all the stress he’s under, and this wouldn’t be Ro’s bag at all, even if he was at a hundred percent, I’m the only one up to the job.
We spend hour after hour, day after day, scouring the shelves and searching for answers. My chest feels tight thanks to all the dust, and it’s like whenever I close my eyes, all I see is the fucking creepy images that litter these books.
Most of them are written for vampires, by vampires, and they’re like a journal of the blood-soaked glory days.
I spend most of the time feeling sick to my stomach. But I won’t give in and quit. Not until we find some answers.
Too bad that the situation turns me into even more of an asshole than usual. At least Dante’s quiet, so he just kind of gets on with things. He can also read freakishly fast, which pisses me off when I’m having to squint my eyes at the stupid fucking font they pick for the older books.
I’m snippy. Rude as hell, most of the time. But he never snaps back. And I quickly realize that I’m not doing myself any favors.
Silver isn’t a fan of the tension between the two of us. So I’m sucking up all the bile that I’m tempted to spit at him, and I keep my damn mouth shut.
Who knew I had this much impulse control with asshole vamps? Not me. Seems like the little witch has warped my brain. Calmed the damn storm inside me enough that I’m not lashing out every five minutes.
We’re on day three and we’ve been at it for hours again when she lets out a tired groan and adds yet another book to the reject pile.
“Be right back.” She stomps off and my eyes follow her like a moth to a flame.
“She looks like shit,” I mutter. It’s true, despite the tasty outfit she’s got going on, her face is paler than normal and her eyes look strained.
“Keep that comment to yourself,” Dante replies, playing idly with his shirt cuffs before cracking his neck from side to side.
“She looks tired, though, right? This whole mental wall thing must be taking a ton of energy to keep up all day long. I dunno how long she’ll be able to keep it up.”
He lets out a soft sigh. “I don’t disagree. However, I might not be an expert on women, but I’d caution against telling her how awful you think she looks.”
“Maybe we should practice sawing you in half, or drowning you in a bathtub, see if either of those things stick.”
Yeah, I’m being an ass. I can feel it as the words come out, but I can’t seem to hold my tongue.
“No thanks,” he replies crisply, not bothered in the slightest by my hollow threats. “Look, Silver seems to see this as a bonding activity. That’s the only reason I can see for us both needing to be here like this,” he replies.
Shit. He’s right.
That and the whole safety in numbers thing.
“Are you two chatterboxes done?” Silver asks, appearing in front of us with a beaming grin on her face.
“We weren’tchatting,” I grunt. “You make it sound like we’re two teenage girls.”
She pats my arm in condescension but doesn’t say a word.
What the fuck is happening if I’m finding it weirdly easy tochatwith this vamp?
“Seriously, Little Witch, you can shove us together as much as you want. It’s not gonna make me quit imagining what he’d look like with his head lopped off.”
