Especially when he growls, “Don’t play with me, Grace. We both know you’re in love with my brother.”

It’s true. I do love Jaxon. But I don’t say that. I don’t know why I don’t say it—probably for the same reason I don’t tell him that Jaxon broke up with me last week. Because he’ll find out soon enough, and I don’t want to look pathetic when he does.

Normally, I don’t care what people think of me. But he isn’t people. He’s Hudson, and everything inside me rebels at the idea of him feeling sorry for me. Whatever relationship we have is based on a mutual toughness and respect. I can’t stand, even for a second, the idea of him thinking I need his pity.

I don’t know why it matters so much with him, and to be honest, I really don’t have it in me to delve into my psyche to find out. This week’s been rough enough without any deep psychological revelations about myself, thank you very much.

So instead of dealing with the Jaxon statement on the table—and all the baggage that comes with it—I nod toward the towering pile of books he’s got stacked in his work area. “So what have you been doing these last few days, besides reading every ‘light’ and uplifting book you can get your hands on?” It’s a blatant change of subject but one I’m praying he’ll go along with.

At least until he smirks at me and answers, “Mating bonds.”

Okay, so maybe Jaxon was the better subject here. Trust freaking Hudson to drop the two-ton purple elephant we’d just avoided right back in the room between us—and not even bother to stand back when it falls.

Of course, he did it on purpose—to scare me off. I know Hudson, and I know he expects that revelation to make me pack up shop and run. I can see it in his eyes. More, I know how he thinks—I didn’t spend weeks with him in my head not to have figured out some things. But the fact that he’s trying to scare me away only ratchets my determination to stick it out, no matter how uncomfortable the topic. And it definitely makes me more determined not to do what he expects.

So instead of running back to my safe little physics project on the other side of the library, I plop myself down at his table and ask, “What about them?”

And there it is in the depths of his eyes. Surprise, yes. But also the respect he’s always had for me, the respect he’s always treated me with, even when we bitterly disagreed about something.

“Mostly I’ve been trying to figure out how they work,” he says as he settles into the chair farthest away from mine on the other side of the table.

Which is an interesting choice, considering he’s a badass vampire and I’m “just” a gargoyle. But it’s obvious that he’s wary of me. I can see it in the twist of his lips, the way he’s holding himself, and how he’s awkwardly looking at anything and everything but me.

But he’s not backing down, either, and I can’t help wondering if it’s for the same reasons as me.

“I thought everyone knows how mating bonds work,” I tell him.

“Yeah, well, obviously not.” He taps his fingers on the table in the first display of nervousness I’ve ever seen from him. “We know the basics, like that they snap into place the first time people physically touch, but obviously there’s a lot more to it than that or we wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in now.”

“That can’t always be true, right? I mean, ours didn’t snap into place the first time we touched.”

“Yes, it did,” he tells me quietly. “You just didn’t feel it.”

“You felt it?” I repeat as shock ricochets through me. “Really?”

“Yes.” There’s no sarcasm in the word—or the look he gives me as he waits to see how I’ll react.

“How? When?” A terrible thought occurs to me. “Did we—were we mated during those months we spent together?” The months I’m growing more and more desperate to remember.

“No.” He shakes his head. “While mating is a spiritual thing, it kicks in on the physical plane, and at that time, we weren’t corporeal.”

Right. Trapped together in spirit isn’t enough to activate the bond. Okay, then. “So when did it happen?”

He’s watching me closely now, and there’s something in his gaze that makes my skin itch and my mouth go dry all over again.

“On the Ludares field. You were a little busy with the near-death thing, but I felt it right away.”

My eyes go wide as things slide into place, including the way Hudson turned his father’s bones to dust before destroying the entire Ludares arena with a thought. I’d overheard Macy ask him at lunch a few weeks ago why he’d destroyed the arena, and he said it was so that nothing like what happened to me there could happen to anyone else—and I still believe that played a part in it. But understanding now that he knew then that I was his mate, and he thought I was dying in his arms…I’m surprised there was anything left of the whole school when he was done.

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way,” I tell him, because none of this is his fault—any more than it’s my fault. Any more than it’s Jaxon’s, no matter what he thinks. It just is. And the sooner we accept that, the sooner we’ll be able to figure out what we want. And what we’re going to do to get it. “It must have been awful.”

“It wasn’t optimal,” he admits with a twist of his mouth.

“Are you upset?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper now in the silent library.

At first, I don’t think he’s going to answer—he refuses to look at me, and the sudden silence between us grows more awkward with every second that passes.

Normally, I’d move on, gloss over the discomfort with easy words that defuse the situation. But instead, I force myself to ignore the awkwardness of this moment and push Hudson for an answer to the question that’s been plaguing me for weeks. The question I’ve always been too afraid to ask.

“What exactly happened between us during the four months we were trapped together?”

11

Badass Boys Are

the Best Boys

His eyes go dark, and something nameless moves in their indigo depths. Something perturbed. Something painful. Something…powerless. It’s strange to think of Hudson that way. Even stranger to realize that I might somehow be responsible.

But before I can wrap my head around the pain I’m seeing, let alone think of something to say about it, an underclassman approaches. I’m not sure if he’s a freshman or a sophomore, but he’s definitely younger than sixteen. And he is also definitely a wolf.

Which doesn’t necessarily make him bad. Just because Cole and his minions were assholes doesn’t mean every wolf is—look at Xavier. But I’m not sure I’m up to finding out who this kid is or what his intentions are. Not when my heart is pounding like a thunderstorm and I’m already feeling far too vulnerable.

Hudson must feel the same way—or at least sense how I’m feeling—because he’s out of his chair in the blink of an eye. More, his focus on the kid is absolute, unwavering, and 100 percent predatory, so much so that the wolf’s eyes go wide, and he stops dead in his tracks. And that’s before Hudson growls, “You’re walking away now.”

“I’m walking away now,” the wolf repeats, nearly stumbling over his feet in his haste to get away from us. I expect him to turn around and flee, but I forget how finely developed survival instincts are in this place. The wolf moves past us, but he doesn’t take his gaze off Hudson until he’s at the library’s main door. And even then, he only looks away long enough to find the door handle.

He shoves the door open and flees like a pack of hellhounds is hot on his heels. As I watch him go, I can’t help wondering what he saw in Hudson’s eyes that made him move so fast, without so much as an attempt to stand his ground.

But when Hudson turns back to me, there’s nothing there. No threat, no anger, no promise of retribution. At the same time, whatever else I saw there a few moments ago is also gone, the anger and the pain slipping away as easily as they had come.

In their place is a blank slate, sheer as glass and about as deep.

“I thought you couldn’t use your powers?” I comment as he settles back down in his chair.

The look he gives me is half amused and half affronted. “You do remember I’m a vampire, right?”

“What? That means your power can’t be grounded? Or—” A new thought occurs to me. “Did you just persuade Uncle Finn into believing he grounded your powers?”

“And why would I do that exactly?”

“Why wouldn’t you do that?” I shoot back. “I don’t know very many people who would just hand over their abilities when they have an actual way to keep them.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not most people. And in case you haven’t noticed, my powers aren’t exactly easy to live with. If I could get rid of them completely, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”