“Since I’m only doing this to hold up my end of the bargain,” he says sarcastically, walking down the stairs and passing me, “don’t bother thanking me.”
“I won’t.”
“Great.” He throws up his hands. “Because I don’t want it.”
“Even better, because I’m not going to thank the person responsible for this entire mess anyway.” Which has me thinking. “Do you really have an invention that will stop aging? And is that what you need me to help with?”
He stops, strong back flexing as if it’s having its own conversation.Should I tell her? Why should I tell her? All she does is annoy me. Maybe I won’t tell her.
He sighs. Sighs! As if I’m the problem here. “Yes, I do have something for aging, and no, that’s not the invention I’m working on. What I’m doing is much more important than that.”
I wipe a speck of dirt from a table beside the stairs and say as if I don’t care (which I don’t), “What is it, then? What are you working on? I mean, you told my parents that you need my help.”
“I do need your help,” he says quickly, too quickly.
I steer my gaze from the table to Devlin. There’s an emotion in his eyes that I can’t quite pinpoint. It looks like…longing? Regret?
Or maybe I got a little too sunbaked outside today when I smashed Storm’s nose. Yep. I’m just imagining those feelings in him—and don’t even think that I’m projecting my own, because I am not.
“Come and see what I’m doing.”
“You sure? Aren’t you afraid that I’m going to blab about your deepest, darkest secrets to your enemy?”
“No.” He slides his hands into his pockets, watching me with eyes that skim my face, my body, making a knot inflate like a balloon in my throat. “I don’t think you’ll say anything. But if you do”—one side of his mouth tips up—“I’ll have to kill you.”
“If I do, then you can kill me away,” I reply without thinking. “Just kidding. No killing.”
“Darlin’, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Devlin stares at me for a beat too long, and flames lick up my throat, engulfing my face. I tuck my head and march toward him.
“Lead the way to this invention. I can’t wait to see it.”
Never mind that I’d also love to run for cover. But first thing’s first.
15
“Whatisthis?” I ask.
I’m staring at a glowing pink container that resembles an oversize capsule. It’s pulsing, and it looks like there’s some sort of liquid inside of it, but to be honest, I’m afraid to touch the thing because even though Devlin’s not the type, there could be some mad scientist in him that I’m not aware of, and if that’s the case, there’s no telling if the capsule is actually safe. It could kill and eat me.
“This,” he says with a mix of pride and frustration, “is a womb.”
“What?”
He’s got his massive arms folded, and his biceps are straining against his white shirt. Devlin’s not looking at me, which is good, because I’m practically drooling at the sight of this brilliant man showing me his secrets. If he ripped his shirt off right here, I’d have no choice but to throw myself on him.
Stop it, Blair. You hate Devlin. It’s very simple:
Devlin, bad.
Storm, good.
Me, ape woman.
I mean, I’ve got to get a grip.
He’s looking at me, and I realize that I’m supposed to say something, so I clear my throat, which makes me sound like I’m trying to hock up a loogie, and manage, “A womb?”
