The Blood of a Warrior

Chapter Six

Why hadn't I seen it? I always knew immediately.

A druggie always knows another druggie.

Somehow, she hid it better than I did.

I tried to think of any way I could of missed it, overlooked it.

Nothing.

It just became more and more obvious.

How she killed two men before being brought down. Not a single sign of regret.

Even as she accused me of slaughtering innocents, there was...something to her words. Longing, almost.

I pondered it as the ice cold water from the showerhead pounded onto my back. Cold showers helped me think.

I found nothing. It was all so obvious.

I snarled, nearly breaking the handle as I slammed it down to shut the water off.

Stalking back to my cell, I hoped that I would make it back after lights out, even if it meant having to sleep on a tiny couch instead of spending another night cooped up with her.

I made it back with five minutes to spare.

Fuck.

I was already tugging off my shirt as I walked through the door. Pulling it over my head, I froze. She was in my bed.

Fast asleep. I lost it.

I had been putting up with her for days now. Stealing my books, invading the one place I didn't even let Izolda enter, and now she was in my bed.

I grabbed her arm and threw her into a wall. Again.

But this time she came back at me, teeth bared.

And they were sharp. I barely felt them sink into my shoulder, but I knew they went deep.

I managed to pull her off of me, but she lunged again.

We fell to the floor, tumbling and rolling, each trying to get the upper hand.

And before I could react, she was kissing me, her hands on my chest, tracing my scars.

Out of pure instinct, I shoved her away.

As she got to her feet, she seemed to realize what she had just done. Within seconds, her back was against the wall, one hand covering her mouth.

"Oh, god. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." It was barely a whisper.

I didn't know what to say.

I turned my back and went to bed.

But I didn't fall asleep for hours.

I was thinking, trying to make sense of her actions.

Again, once more pieces were givin, it seemed so obvious.

She wasn't a blood-druggie. She didn't pretend to hate me so I wouldn't find out she had a blood-addiction, but because she didn't want me find out she liked me.

She didn't seem to long for something when she accused of slaughtering because she wanted to, but because she didn't want me to do it. She didn't want to like -hell, maybe even love- someone who did that.

She had been pissed when she found out I was calling her She-devil because she hated that I thought of her as a monster.

And the only reason she had been so fascinated at the end of my last fight was because she must have realized that she didn't care I was doing these things. She just didn't want to do them herself.

But there was one thing about her kiss I didn't understand.

Why had I liked it?