“You’re going to hate this,” I say.
Her mouth turns down, pouting as she drops her things on an empty desk.
“What? No, Kitty said it was good.”
“It is good. But you’re not going to like it.”
“How do you know?” she sasses, snatching the book back and shoving it in her bag.
“Because you hated Flightless Phoenix,” I say. “Which you still have my copy of, by the way. I want that back, you little brat.”
Her dark eyes roll as she hitches a hip and crosses her arms. The movement presses her breasts together, and I can’t help but sneak a peek at them as she retorts, “I’ve seen your collection, Cross. I don’t think you’ll miss it.”
“It’s the principle, baby. You wouldn’t like it if I kept your copy of Manhurst, would you?”
She frowns, and I know what her answer will be.
It’s no secret that Manhurst is her favorite. She likes to tell people it’s because of the descriptive writing, but it’s really because she likes the ending, when Evangeline finally murders Cedric. I wouldn’t be surprised if she clapped when she first read those last few pages.
But instead of admitting that I am right, she just mutters at me to stop calling her “baby.”
“Wish I could,” I say. “But we gotta sell it.”
I wink, and she doesn’t say anything, but I know it’s only because it’s hard to talk while grinding your teeth.
Iris isn’t used to holding her tongue. She speaks her mind quite plainly. But, before Saturday, I wasn’t aware she also had the teeth to back it up.
In all my years of knowing her, and all the times I’ve watched her tear into some guy who thought he could take what wasn’t his, I’ve never seen her like that. I never realized just how deadly she is.
Her teeth? Those eyes? The claws?
I’m almost positive she could have reached through Grey’s chest and ripped out his still beating heart if she wanted to.
I wasn’t totally surprised to see it, though. I knew there was something fatal beneath her perfect exterior, but I guess I didn’t expect it to remind me so much of…well, me.
“Cross, you’re staring.”
Am I?
“Sorry. Remind me again why we had to meethere?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the library,” she says, deflecting. “You’re just being a baby.”
I look around to be sure we’re talking about the same library.
The library with bats in the rafters and rats in the walls.
The same library that has ghosts who rearrange the shelves, making it impossible to find anything.
The very same library with old wooden chairs that leave splinters in your ass if you sit for longer than fifteen minutes.
That library?
“Right. And am I supposed to feed you with half the campus watching? Because I will, I just don’t think?—”
Her fist comes charging toward me, cutting off my words, and I let it connect just to feel the little twinge of pain as her power pushes through me.
“Shut up,” she demands, her brown skin as near to blushing as I’ve ever seen her.
