I whisper, “You never did tell me the punch line to that joke.”

He looks at me, baffled. Or maybe like he can’t believe that I’m bringing up something so ridiculous at a time like this. But Jaxon’s and my relationship has been fraught with so many emotions, good and bad, that I don’t want it to end like this.

So I force myself to smile just a little bit wider and continue. “What did the pirate say when he turned eighty?”

“Oh, right.” Jaxon’s laugh is a little watery, but it’s still a laugh so I count it as a win. Especially when he answers, “He says, ‘Aye matey.’”

I stare at him for a second, openmouthed, before shaking my head. “Wow.”

“Doesn’t seem worth the wait, does it?”

There’s so much to unpack in that statement, but right now I’m out of energy, so I just concentrate on the joke. “That’s really bad.”

“I know, right?”

His smile is small but there, and I find myself wanting to hold on to it a little longer. Maybe that’s why I shake my head and say, “So, so, sooooooo bad.”

He lifts a brow, and not going to lie, my knees tremble just a little, even though they don’t have the right to anymore. “You think you can do better?” he asks.

“I know I can do better. Why is Cinderella bad at sports?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Why?”

I start to answer, “Because she always—” but Jaxon cuts me off before I can deliver the punch line, his mouth slamming down on mine with all the power of the pent-up sorrow and frustration and need that still seethes between us.

I gasp and reach for him, my fingers aching to bury themselves in his hair one last time. But he’s already gone, the sound of the door slamming behind him the only sign that he was here at all.

At least until the tears start to roll—silent and steady—down my cheeks.

8

Ghosts Don’t Need

Moving Vans and

Neither Does My Baggage

I spend the week after Jaxon breaks up with me making every excuse I can think of not to leave my room except for class and food. I don’t want to chance running into him, can’t stand the way I’m blindsided by pain every time I so much as catch a glimpse of him in the halls.

The Order has pretty much given up being in the cafeteria lately, which I think is Jaxon’s way of giving me space. I appreciate it even as it hurts.

I’ve also taken to avoiding Hudson, which I know is cowardly of me when he’s done nothing but try to be a friend to me. But I can’t shake that comment Jaxon made about the look on Hudson’s face when I turn to walk away.

I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I know I’m not ready to deal with it either way. Better to hide until I can think about either of the Vega brothers without wanting to curl into a ball and cry.

On the plus side, today is the first morning in a week that I haven’t sobbed in the shower. I don’t think that means I’m okay, but it does give me the strength to do something I should have done days ago—leave the safety of my room and brave the library. My Physics of Flight makeup project is due in a few days, and I still need to get it done.

I wait until after ten at night to go to the library, in the hopes of getting the shelves all to myself. By now, everyone in the school is well aware of the drama surrounding the Vega brothers and me, but I don’t think the news of my breakup with Jaxon has made the rounds yet.

He obviously hasn’t said a word and neither have I.

For a second, I think about shifting to my gargoyle form—I even go so far as to reach for the shiny platinum string deep inside me. But flying around the Alaskan wilderness isn’t going to make this hurt any less, especially since turning my body to stone doesn’t mean that my heart turns to stone, too.

I change into a pair of sweats and my most comfortable and faded One Direction T-shirt, then scoop my backpack up from the floor and head out the door.

But the universe has obviously given up passively fucking with me and is now actively gunning for me, because the second I walk into the library, I can’t miss that Hudson is sitting next to the window, his face buried in a copy of Helen Prejean’s Dead Man Walking.

It’s a little too on the nose for me, but Hudson’s always been a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his reading choices. For a second, I think about going over to talk to him, but I’m not exactly up for trading wits tonight. Plus, he’s basically wearing an invisible NO TRESPASSING sign, so interrupting him feels…rude. Especially when he makes absolutely no attempt to so much as look at me.

With someone else, I might just think they hadn’t seen me. But Hudson’s a vampire, with the most acute senses on the planet. No way he doesn’t know I’m here. Especially considering we’re mated. Already, I can feel the invisible string stretching between us, connecting us to each other on a soul-deep level.

Again, I think about going over to say hello to him. He did save my life, after all, even though it meant taking on his evil father to do it…not to mention getting “cuffed” until graduation—which I’ve since learned means being forced to wear a charmed wrist cuff that prevents the use of any of his powers.

But in the end, I chicken out before I can take more than a couple of steps in his direction. I mean, yeah, we’ve seen each other around school and sat at the same table in the cafeteria since we were mated, but there’s always been a buffer between us. We haven’t actually been alone together since those minutes before the challenge when I did the spell to get him out of my head. And judging by the way he always gives me a wide berth even when our friends are around, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want alone time with me any more than I want it with him.

I end up going to sit at a table all the way at the other side of the library. Avoidance is my middle name…

Determined to ignore both him and my bruised and battered heart, I slip into a chair and pull out my laptop. Then I connect to the library’s wifi so that I can log in to one of the databases that can only be accessed in this room. Less than five minutes of setup, and I’m working on my project on aerodynamics and the mechanics of flight—with an emphasis on the difference between gargoyle and dragon wings/methods of suspension.

There is almost no research on gargoyles—considering the Unkillable Beast has been chained for centuries and I’m the only other one in existence for a thousand years, at least as far as anyone knows. Then again, I do have myself for a test subject, so there is that.

It doesn’t take long before I find my groove, and I spend nearly two hours immersed in both my research and a random playlist on Spotify. But when James Bay’s “Bad” comes on, it jerks me straight out of the article I’m reading and back into my own personal hell.

My hands shake as the lyrics slam through me like grenades. As he sings about a relationship being so broken that it can’t ever unbreak again, I can’t help but feel each word burn my soul.

I drag my earbuds out of my ears like they’ve caught fire and shove back from the table so hard that I nearly go over backward in my chair. It takes me a second to right myself, but when I do, I can’t help noticing Hudson staring at me from across the library.

Our eyes meet and, even though the damn earbuds are halfway across the table, I can still hear the song. My breath catches in my throat, my hands tremble, and those damn tears are back in my eyes.

I tap at the screen erratically, desperate to make it stop, but I must have accidentally hit the output source button instead because now the song is playing from my phone speaker, the lyrics echoing off the walls of the otherwise silent space.

I freeze. Shit, shit, shit.

Suddenly, Hudson’s long, elegant fingers close over mine, and everything goes still…except the stupid song. And my even stupider heart.

9

Me and My

Unmentionables

Hudson doesn’t say anything as he eases my phone out of my death grip.

He doesn’t say anything as he turns off the song and blessed silence finally fills the library again.

And he still doesn’t say anything when he slides the phone back into my trembling hands. But his cold fingers brush against my own, and my already fucked-up heart starts to beat all fast and hard.

His blue eyes, bright and brilliant and bold—so bold—stay locked on mine for the length of several painful heartbeats. His lips move just a little, and I’m certain he’s going to say something, certain he will finally break the silence that’s been echoing between us for days.