But before I can come up with anything to say, Hudson replies, “I’m pretty sure Kierkegaard would think it was subjective.” Which…come on.

Jaxon rolls his eyes, Flint ducks his head to hide his grin, and I can’t help it—I let out a snort of laughter, then slap my hand over my mouth and nose in a desperate effort to hide the evidence.

But it’s too late. Ms. Virago is fuming, and she doesn’t care who knows it. “That’s it!” she hisses at Hudson and me. “Both of you, up to my desk!”

Shit. There goes the one good grade I’ve currently got.

I’m sorry, Hudson mouths to me as I grab a pen and notebook.

I shrug back at him. It’s not his fault I was ridiculous enough to laugh.

Hudson starts to follow the teacher, but Jaxon grabs my hand and asks softly, “You want me to get you out of it?”

His skin feels good against mine, so good, in fact, that it takes me a few seconds to register what he’s saying. But once I do register it, I shake my head.

I mean, sure, I’d like him to get me out of it. I do not have time for whatever extra work Ms. Virago is about to heap on Hudson and me. But at the same time, I hate how scared people are of Jaxon again, how much they distance themselves from him. How much worse would that get if I just let him use his influence to get me out of trouble?

I smile my thanks at him for offering, but whatever brief glimpse of humanity he gave me is gone as he stares at me with those dark eyes that seem to get colder with every second that passes.

I drop my gaze, more hurt than I want to admit by the indifference written all over him. I know we’re not together, but does that mean he can just turn off his feelings for me? Does it mean that he really doesn’t care about me anymore?

But how can he just do that? I’m mated to someone else, for God’s sake, and I still care about him. Yes, things feel different between us. Yes, I have confusing emotions zinging around inside me for Hudson. But that’s the bond, not me.

I, Grace Foster, the girl inside the gargoyle, still love Jaxon. I can feel it when I look at him, feel it when he touches me. So how can it be possible that he doesn’t feel the same way?

It isn’t possible, I decide as Ms. Virago speaks firmly to Hudson and me and assigns us that extra project she promised at the beginning of class. Jaxon may be hiding his feelings behind that awful wall of coldness, but that doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there.

And once we meet with the Bloodletter, once we figure out a way to break Hudson’s and my mating bond, everything will go back to normal. It has to.

Because if it doesn’t? I don’t know what will happen…to any of us.

20

The Joke’s on You

The rest of the day passes in a blur of classes and work, more classes and more work, until I want to say screw it all. So when a text comes in from Flint asking to go for a flight with him, I’m tempted. Really, really tempted. It’s been more than a week since I’ve flown, and I’m so ready to stretch my wings.

But running out on the pile of homework I have would be completely irresponsible—not to mention only put me further behind. It’s one thing to be drowning because of circumstances. It’s another thing entirely to make bad decisions that only drag you down. I have a little less than two months until graduation. I can do anything for that short amount of time—even ridiculous amounts of philosophy homework.

Me: Sorry, can’t go. Drowning in ethics project

In response, Flint sends me a GIF of a little boy crying—which makes me send him a GIF of a little girl crying even harder.

Flint: Study hard, New Girl

Me: Try not to fly into a mountain, Dragon Boy

He responds with a paper airplane crashing and burning, because of course he does.

While there’s a part of me that would like nothing more than to stay here trading GIFs with Flint all afternoon, that’s not going to get this project done. I drop my phone in the front pocket of my backpack, then do a quick change out of my uniform and into black sweats and the Notorious RBG T-shirt my mom gave me for my seventeenth birthday.

I grab an apple and a can of Dr Pepper on my way out, then head to the study room on the second floor where I’m supposed to meet Hudson. But I’m barely halfway down the hall when Mekhi comes barreling out of his room and straight into me.

“Oh, shit!” Mekhi grabs on to my shoulders and keeps me from flying into the nearest wall—just one of the hazards of getting in the way of a vampire on a mission. “Sorry, Grace. I didn’t see you there.”

“Here I thought you were trying to break a rib or two,” I joke.

“And get myself on the Vega brothers’ shit list?” He gives an exaggerated shudder even though his warm brown eyes are laughing as he teases, “My neck just got better, thank you very much.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, because you’ve got so much to worry about from Jaxon and Hudson.”

“If I hurt you, I do,” he says, and though he’s still smiling, his tone is about a hundred times more solemn now. “And so do you. You need to be careful, Grace.”

“I’m trying to be careful. But in case you haven’t noticed, it’s really hard to figure out what either of them is thinking at any given moment.”

“Jaxon loves you,” Mekhi tells me.

“Does he?” I shake my head. “Because these last few days, I haven’t been so sure.”

“He’s hurt.”

“Yeah, well, so am I. But every time I try to talk to him, it just makes things worse. He’s treating me like I’m…” I drift off on a sigh, not sure what I want to say. Or more honestly, not sure I want to say it.

But clearly Mekhi has no such inhibitions. “Like you’re already gone?”

My shoulders slump. “Yeah.”

He looks away and doesn’t say anything else for what feels like forever. But when his gaze finally meets mine again, it’s deadly serious. “You might want to think about why that is.”

I start to tell him that that’s pretty much my point—I don’t know why. But before I can, he wraps his arm around my shoulders in a hug and says, “Things will work out the way they’re supposed to. You just need to give it time.”

I start to call him on the biggest cop-out ever, but he shoots me a sympathetic look and takes off in the opposite direction from where I’m heading.

Freaking vampires. You never know exactly where you stand with them, do you?

I wouldn’t trade being a gargoyle for anything—except maybe having my parents back—but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about how much simpler my life was before I knew vampires existed. Certainly before I met two of the most attractive, contrary, difficult vampires in the entire world. Probably even the universe.

Still, I can’t help thinking about what Mekhi told me about being careful—with Jaxon and Hudson. And I get it. I do. Because there’s a tiny corner of me that’s terrified we’ll destroy one another before this is all over.

Maybe that’s why I pull out my phone and text Jaxon.

Me: How does a mummy start a letter?

I wait a minute for him to answer, but he doesn’t, so I finish making my way to the study room. To Hudson.

He isn’t there, which I probably should have anticipated, since I’m ten minutes early. But I don’t know. I guess I grew so used to him being in my head all the time that I just expect him to be wherever I need him to be. Which is ridiculous and a habit I definitely need to break.

I set up at the only open table, snacking on my apple as I pull up a bunch of information on the ethics of Plato, Socrates, and Aristotle. Ms. Virago assigned the philosophers—and apparently she’s got a thing for the ancient Greeks—but we have to pick the ethical question we want to examine from all three philosophers’ points of view before we decide which one we think is right.

I’ve got a couple of ideas, and I’m jotting them down when Hudson finally gets there. “Sorry,” he says as he settles into the chair across from me. “I didn’t expect you to be here yet.”

“This is the time we agreed on, right?” I glance up with a smile, then refocus on my notes. I don’t want to lose the idea that’s brewing.

“True. It’s just—” He breaks off.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Never mind.”

I glance up again, but he’s looking at me strangely, so strangely that I put my pen down and hold his gaze. “Hey, what’s going on?” I ask. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” But he seems taken aback by the question, though I can’t figure out why.

“You sure?” I ask after he doesn’t say anything else—which is distinctly un-Hudson-like in and of itself. God knows he’s never been one who’s short of things to say. But after the day I’ve had, I’m really not in the mood to try and guess what’s wrong with him, so I just raise my brows and ask again, “What’s going on, Hudson?”

“Nothing.” There’s a bit more bite in his tone this time, and relief skitters through me. This Hudson I know what to do with. The other, softer one…I don’t have a clue. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You just seem…weird.”

“Weird?” He lifts an imperious brow. “I am never weird.”