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“We don’t have to be enemies, you know. We can be friends,” she says, although I distinctly hear the begrudging tone in her voice.
I laugh, a bitter one. “There’s no such thing as friends. This world is made up of three kinds of people: family, competitors, and enemies. Friends are an American concept, a sheep’s clothing for one of the latter. Competitor or enemy, take your pick.”
“If that’s how you feel, why pick me? Any other girl in your clan would do,” she asks crossly.
I languidly move closer. She tenses.
I take a step closer.
And a wave of cherry vanilla hits me.
My stomach clenches. It’s the fragrance of innocence, of childhood, of the shampoo little girls with flaxen hair use in their baths.
A childhood I know nothing about. I have no need of false memories, memories that exist in other kids’ lives. My own memories are filled with white walls and the stink of antiseptic. With grasping hands. And with blood. It always ends with the scent of blood.
I press my eyes closed and breathe it in deeply, this unrelenting cherry vanilla fragrance.
I snap them open. She hasn’t moved a muscle, standing stock-still, like prey on the alert.
I’m the Big Bad Wolf to your Little Red Riding Hood, little girl. I’m your biggest nightmare.
“He has his reasons for choosing you,” I reply.
Fuck if I know what they are, but mysefnever does anything without a purpose.
Circling her tightly, I exhale, and my breath flutters a few loose strands of her hair. I watch a shiver course through her delicate frame.
Be afraid, little girl. Be very afraid.
I breathe her in.
My heart skips a beat.
I breathe her out.
My heart pounds.
“He’s using you for his purposes, and I’m going to use you for mine.”
Her head turns slightly in my direction. “To becomeconsilier, you mean.”
I still midstep in the tight, hovering circle I’ve made around her. I’ve never made any bones about my intentions within my clan, but she isn’t a Popescu. The only way she can know something like that is if she’s sought out intel on me or watched me closely.
And is that bitterness I hear?
“That’s right. And you know what that means, don’t you, Star?”
I pause a moment.
She shakes her head, frustration marring the smooth perfection of her forehead.
“That means I have a future to fight for, so we can never be friends. Get that idea out of your head. I can fuck you.” She swallows. “I can rut you.” Her gaze skates away. “Hell, I can even breed you, but I can never marry you, and I sure as hell can never be yourfriend.”
I spit out the last word like it’s a curse.
Her hand swings out, swift and firm, but I catch her wrist before her palm connects with my cheek.
My gaze burns into her, although inside…inside I’m fuckinglaughing.
