She lifted one shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “I have been called sneaky.”
He started to smile, until he lowered his eyes and saw the case of mercurite-dipped weapons. Because he now knew why Chelle had brought him to this room.
“You were right down there,” she said. “We need to stop the Chimeras.”
He met Chelle’s hazel eyes, each iris flecked with gold. “By killing them?”
She set her jaw, and Grayson knew she was mentally rolling up her sleeves, preparing for a fight.
“Would you rather wait for more Dusters to die? Who will be next? Ingrid? Perhaps even you?” she said, her French accent growing stronger with her anger. “And do you believe Dusters will be their only target? Once they’ve taken care of your kind, they will come after mine.”
Your kind. Grayson dragged in a breath and tried not to let it bother him. Chelle hadn’t meant it as an insult. At least, he didn’t think she had. Still, it was as if she’d drawn a line between them and shoved his chest, pushing him away. Humans on this side, Dusters on that side.
“Word is spreading that Axia has reclaimed her blood from your sister. The gargoyles will be out in droves hunting Dusters, trying to destroy Axia’s little seedlings before she can use them for whatever it is she plans to do,” Chelle went on, her cheeks beginning to pink.
“Maybe they should,” Grayson heard himself say. Chelle squinted up at him, her lips parting in surprise.
“You think Dusters should die?” she asked.
Now he felt like an idiot. Of course he didn’t think all Dusters should die.
“Some of us deserve it,” he answered.
Chelle gathered a breath and walked around him, toward the opposite wall of blessed silver weapons. An unwieldy battle-axe hung at knee level, the buffed blade head so wide it showed the reflection of Chelle’s legs.
“I don’t know what happened in London. I mean, I do know, but I wasn’t there and I don’t know what happened to you, or what it must be to have something like that on your conscience. But, Grayson—” Chelle paused to face him. She didn’t usually tangle up her words, and she started to blush for having done so.
Grayson saw the prickles of red wash over her creamy skin and stopped breathing. He didn’t want to smell her blood. He didn’t want to feel that disgusting clench of desire lock up his stomach and throat.
“You don’t deserve to die,” she continued as his lungs started to beg for air.
He gave up and let his body have what it needed. Though it wasn’t strong—Vander’s blood must have been working its magic—the air tasted sweet. Grayson moved toward her.
“You want to know what happened to me in London?”
Chelle’s soft expression turned wary. He was glad of it. She was smart and fast and trusted her gut.
“I caught the eye of a girl in a tavern. A working girl,” he clarified. Chelle didn’t bat an eye. “She blushed when I smiled at her, and the blood rising to her cheeks like that, it set something off inside me. I didn’t understand it. I felt drugged, like I’d had too much whiskey, only I hadn’t.”
Chelle betrayed her thoughts when her palm came up to touch her own cheek, still rosy.
“Do you want to know the rest?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I can piece it together on my own.”
Grayson took another step closer. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, and I won’t. But the truth is, when I scent your blood like this, I can’t think of anything other than what it would taste like on my tongue. Sliding down my throat.”
Chelle lowered her hand, revealing an even brighter flush than before. It was too dangerous. He had to leave.
“The only thing your tongue would taste is the cool silver of my hira-shuriken,” she whispered, so softly Grayson needed a moment to understand what she’d said. And then he laughed.
“That’s good to know,” he said, still laughing.
Chelle’s expression remained serious. “But you don’t deserve to die, Grayson Waverly. Neither did Léon, or the other Dusters the Chimeras have hunted down.”
His laughter subsided. No. Léon hadn’t deserved to die, even with his own bloody and horrible past sins.
“You heard Vander and Constantine. The Alliance can’t make a move against the gargoyles without starting a war,” he said.
Chelle waited a few moments in silence before Grayson understood.
“But I’m not Alliance,” he said for her.
Chelle then did something to surprise him. She touched him. Her hands settled on his arms, which he’d crossed at his chest.
“I’ll be with you,” she said.