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I falter for a moment, unsure of how to respond when it sounds so cruel.
Instead, I just forge ahead, trying to avoid looking at him. “It was for my protection,” I say. “And my Gran and Pa…they were scared of what the Angels would do. They didn’t want me to be Blessed. My Pa always said that God would not directly intervene in our affairs. And he thought that the Blessings the False Angels gave were unholy. That it fiddled with God’s creation in a way that perverted how he made us in His image.”
The sound of birds singing somewhere in the brush, and the grass against my fingertips, sinks in. He isn’t speaking up again. I chance a look back at him and Elijah’s face has soured, his grey eyes flitting to mine. I jerk my face away, tilting my chin up in defiance.
He’s going to findsomethingto argue with there.
“So you think I’m some kind of freak?” he says. “That I’m unholy?”
I can’t tell if he’s messing with me or if he’s actually angry. “No, of course not,” I say. “You didn’t choose what happened to you.”
“Would you hate me if I had?” he says. “Chosen it, I mean.”
I stop, looking over my shoulder. Elijah is standing there with his light satchel, looking as casual as ever, a light smirk on his lips.
“Well, did you?” I say. “Did you choose it?”
He snickers. “You’re not the only one who’s allowed to keep secrets, Sunshine.”
?
The morning rolls on like that, ebbing into the afternoon. And the whole time, Elijah levels a barrage of questions at me, never stopping with the personal, prying exploration. At first, it makes me uncomfortable, but by the time we’re sitting down for the night, I’m changing my tune.
It’s nice to be able to talk to someone new. To get to know someone whose life has been so different from my own.
And Elijah is…well, he’s nice to look at, at least.
Cicadas sing all around us by the time we finally decide to make camp, ducking into a little cave off the road. We’re crossing into the Texas hill country already, and a waterfall trickles over the entrance, soaking my hair when I try to duck in. Elijah laughs at me and I roll my eyes, the two of us setting to work pulling out our things.
“I’m guessing you don’t have a sleeping bag in there,” I say, flicking my eyes at his satchel.
He shrugs. “I’m used to sleeping rough. Used to…eh, never mind.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re not hiding something, are you?” I ask.
“Like I said, we’ve all got secrets,” he smirks.
“I should check your wounds,” I say. “I’ve got some antibiotic ointment in my pack—”
“I’m good,” he says. “You don’t have to.”
“Iinsist,” I say. I turn to rifle through my well-organized pack, finding the ointment quickly. “Now take off your shirt.”
He snorts and I glance over at him, annoyed, only to melt right away. Elijah has already pulled his shirt up over his head, and there’s a cocky smile on his face when the white garment comes off, his blonde hair ruffled.
“That was quick,” I squeak.
“Well…when a pretty girl asks like that, I’m powerless to resist,” he says.
“I’mnotpretty,” I say.
“Whatever, Sunshine,” he smirks. “So were you going to check me out or what?”
Too late. I think I’m already checking him out.
He lounges back against the cavern wall, his arm draped over a boulder to his right. The fire flickers between us, and I skirt carefully around it with my first aid kit clutched tightly in my hand. The light flashes in Elijah’s strange eyes, and the look within them is so distracting that I barely even notice his wounds.
That’s why I’m shocked when I glance down at his stomach to find the cuts mostly healed.
