“Just let it go, Syrus!”
“I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t,” Forest spat.
“Don’t start with that ‘cause you’re a vampire’ crap again.”
Forest bit down on her lip. “Fine, why don’t we just stop talking altogether?”
Syrus was quiet for a minute. “Why don’t you just tell me why you hate vampires so much?”
“Like I told you before, it’s because of what they’ve done to me.”
“I like how you’re able to generalize so elegantly. It’s the mark of a true bigot.”
“If you think I’m going to rise because you call me names, you’re wrong.”
“Racist, prejudiced, blinkered, narrow-minded, intolerant, unfair…”
“Let me know when you run out of synonyms.”
Syrus was quiet again for another minute. “Seriously, Forest, why can’t you tell me why?”
“Just let it go,” she said again.
“No.”
She huffed out a breath. “The way it started is my business, but after that, I never met a vampire who swayed my bad opinion of the entire race. There.”
“So, you’re saying that you’ve never met a vampire you liked?”
“Yes.”
“Until you met me,” he said triumphantly.
Syrus ducked just in time as whatever she’d thrown at him went whizzing past his head. Forest wanted to stop up her ears as he laughed at her.
“Well, maybe the word ‘like’ is wrong. Infatuated, obsessed, madly in love with. How do those fit?”
Forest stopped walking and faced him. “What are you doing?” she demanded in a quiet voice.
“Just seeing how susceptible you are to the power of suggestion.”
“Stop it.”
“Ha! I must be getting to you.”
“Please! Please stop it!”
The obnoxious grin on Syrus’ face vanished, and he was instantly sober and contrite. “I’m sorry, Forest. I’m just really nervous.”
“So your way of dealing with anxiety is turning into a complete jackass?”
His lips twitched into a small smile. “I guess so. I’ll knock it off. I just have a hard time not talking when I’m nervous.”
“Here, maybe this will help.” Forest pulled her MP3 player out of her pocket and thrust it into his hand. “Can you follow me without your hearing?”
“I’ll try. I think I can manage it.”
Once Syrus had put in her ear buds, Forest walked at a slower pace for a while. He murmured and hummed along to the music but mercifully ceased talking. Forest was so emotionally distraught she felt like she had ripped in two. One half of her wanted as much distance from Syrus as possible. The other half wanted to burrow under his skin. And she wanted to beat her head against the nearest tree until she blacked out, because both halves of her were equally strong and equally demanding. She was so relieved when he had stopped talking and yet had mourned the loss of his voice, annoying as it was.
The beginning of their journey had passed easily enough. Forest decided to keep off the roads, knowing that decision would cost them time, but it maintained the low profile. The terrain was amiable for the first few hours, but now it was starting to become rocky as they began to ascend the oblique hills that would take them behind Kyhael, the elf city.
Forest’s eyes constantly wandered over her shoulder to look at Syrus. Every time she looked at him, she hurt. Her eyes ached for his, and a white-hot sting would snake and snap inside her core, not to mention her scars. Every time her heart would clench for Syrus, she would swear she could feel Leith’s teeth sinking deeper and deeper into her scars. She turned her eyes back to the ground, and her two halves started arguing inside her head.
You’re pathetic! Stop looking at him!
I’ll look at him all I want. He’s mine.
He’s not yours, and he never will be.
No. He is mine…and he never will be.
Looking at Syrus when she should have been paying attention to where she was stepping, Forest stuck her foot right in a hole. Syrus caught her by the hand as she stumbled. Neither one of them said anything. Syrus smiled companionably at her and gave her hand a little squeeze. It was as easy as breathing. He continued to hold her hand, and she allowed it. He continued to hum along to whatever he was listening to; his face casually relaxed as though holding her hand was completely natural. Forest could feel her heart running into her hand, and she would have sooner cut it off than let go. They passed the next hour without saying a word. His thumb ran back and forth over her wrist, and tears slid silently down Forest’s cheeks.