The way he’s looking at me makes my skin prickle with something between fear and embarrassment. “Is that not normal?”
“No, Eden. That’s not fuckingnormal.” His voice drops to something cold and dangerous. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing,” I say automatically, and he glares at me so hard that I step back. “I mean, notnothing, but—I don’t know. Creepy stuff. About how he killed girls like me.”
Nico’s jaw works, and I can tell he’s turning something over in his head. Something he’s choosing not to say.
“What is it?” My voice comes out smaller than I want it to, and I clear my throat, trying to sound more certain. “Why are you acting like it’s weird that Billy could talk to me?”
He blinks slowly, like he’s counting in his head. “Go upstairs. Never come down here again. Do you understand me?”
“Does this mean I could be a Type One?”
“Go.”
“No,” I say, my voice rising as my mind races. “If I’m a Type One, that’s a good thing. I’d be useful.”
I can practicallyfeelthe authority radiating off him, like he doesn’t understand why I’m not doing what he says. You know what? I’ve tried to be understanding. To give him the benefit of the doubt, like Mom would have, but this? This thing with Billy happened tome. I was in bed, and that psychopath was inmyhead, pulling onmythoughts, and Nico’s standing here acting like I don’t have a right to know why.
“You can’t order me around,” I say. “You’re not my boss.”
“I’m Donny’s second.”
“Is this some assistanttothe regional manager bullshit?” I fling my entire arm toward the stairs. “Billy put me into a trancefrom the basement. Does that mean the house defenses are broken?”
“The house defenses are fine,” Nico says. “Billy’s a manipulative psychopath who gets off on finding vulnerabilities and exploiting them, and he’s extremely powerful. Go back to bed.”
The condescension in his voice makes something inside me snap. I close the distance between us, tilting my head to glare up at him. The smell of cold wind and something woodsy clings to his hoodie.
“Either you tell me what’s going on right now, or I’ll drag you all the way over to Donny’s apartment so you can explain tobothof us what you think just happened here,” I say. “Because I think he’d like to know.”
I brace myself for him to explode, to match my anger with his own, but instead the corner of his mouth angles up.
“There she is.” His face is serious, but his eyes are practically dancing. “The angry girl.”
I’m about two seconds away from going back on that whole ‘I’ll never punch you again’ promise. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not,” he says. “Though I’m curious exactly how you plan to drag me anywhere.”
“You think I can’t?”
“I think I got a couple pounds on you, and five minutes ago, you could barely stand on your own, but please, by all means.” He leans in, daring me. “Give it your best shot.”
He knows as well as I do that I’m in no condition to manhandle him up those stairs—let’s be honest, even after a full nine hours of sleep and a line of cocaine, I still wouldn’t be strong enough to manhandle him anywhere—but I’m so mad that I want to try.
His tone may be lighthearted, but there’s an edge to the look he’s giving me, something hungry underneath that makes my pulse kick up for reasons that have nothing to do with anger.
I hate how beautiful he is. Even now, when he’s glaring at me like he wishes he could will me up those stairs with the power of his mind, there’s something so magnetic about him. Like I’m a flimsy refrigerator magnet, and he’s one of those super strong ones you buy at the toy store, which renders me incapable of thinking of anything other than needing to be closer to him.
He steps back, and just like that, his walls slam back up.
“Go upstairs,” he says, his voice flat. “Before I carry you up there myself.”
Picturing it makes the floor feel a tiny bit less solid under my feet. If I were any redder, someone could hang me on the porch in December and call me a holiday decoration.
I could push it. Could demand answers until he loses patience and tells me, but I still want him to like me, or at least tolerate me, and I don’t think pressing him will help my case.
Ugh.
