“Ugh—how can you touch that thing?”
“Please tell me you’re not afraid of birds. You do realize how absurd that would be, considering we share the sky with them?”
He grabs his T-shirt from where he flung it earlier, shakes off the sand and bugs, and throws it over his head, rushing to shove his arms through the sleeves like he doesn’t want to take his eyes off Gavin for a second. “Hey, I used to get attacked by a crazy hawk when I played in this grove as a kid . . .” His voice trails off. “Oh, God, it was that—that thing attacking me, wasn’t it?”
I try not to smile, but the corners of my mouth tilt up anyway. “It’s possible. Gavin knows to keep anyone from discovering my hiding place when I take a short nap. Maybe you wandered too close for his liking.”
“Or maybe he’s demented and likes to tear hair off kids’ heads for his own sadistic pleasure.” Vane wipes the sweat off his brow and dries it on his shorts. “So you’ve attacked me with wind, convinced me this place is haunted, and sent your killer bird after me. Any other ways you’ve made my life difficult? Is it your fault medicine gives me hives?”
“What?”
“The few times I’ve tried to take any pills I broke out in hives and threw up like crazy. That got anything to do with you?”
“No. Your body must’ve rejected the medicine because it’s designed for humans.”
“Right. And I’m not human. Still getting used to that, by the way. Kind of a big, life-changing thing, just so you know.”
There’s nothing I can say to that.
He shakes his head. “So does that happen very often?”
“The hives? No. None of us have had any reason to try groundling medicine. In case you haven’t noticed, we aren’t affected by the same viruses or ills as they are. It’s amazing they’re so much more prolific than we are. By all counts, we’re the superior creatures—that’s why it’s our responsibility to protect them. But what they lack in durability, they make up for in volume. It’s shocking how many children they produce. And the way they choose to crowd together in giant cities.”
I shiver at the thought of being packed in like that. People around all the time. Breathing my air. Stealing my wind. Makes my skin scream for a cool breeze.
But the morning drafts have stilled. And judging by the way the sun’s hammering us even at this early hour, it’ll be a stifling day.
Honestly, I don’t know how Vane’s borne it all this time. He’s fortunate to live in a fairly sparse area, as far as human cities go—the heat keeps the huge crowds away most of the year. Still—the heat. I steal away to the mountains for fresh air and space whenever I can. I don’t know how he doesn’t wither, trapped in this valley all these years, with no real release. Maybe he’s tougher than I think.
Vane ducks when I send Gavin to his perch on the windowsill.
Maybe not.
A loud gurgling rumbles around the half room.
Vane’s cheeks tinge with pink. “I haven’t eaten since the burger last night.”
The mention of food makes my mouth salivate and I clutch my waist, willing my stomach not to make a similar sound. The water has fully invaded my body. Every muscle aches from fighting the extra pull toward the earth, and everything inside me feels hollow and drained.
Much as I hate to surrender to the vulnerability—I need a break. “You should get back to your room so your parents won’t notice you were gone.”
“And what am I supposed to tell them if they have?”
I consider that. “What if you tell them you’ve started a new exercise program, early in the morning to beat the heat?”
“That doesn’t sound like me. I’m pretty lazy.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He grins and steps closer, blocking the sun as his shadow falls over me. “How about I tell them there’s this gorgeous girl who’s invited me to work out with her every morning, and I’m suffering through so I can be with her? That they’d believe.”
My face flames, and I know if I meet his eyes he’ll be looking at me the same way he did last night by the windmills, right before I had the winds rip us away. That deep, intense stare with those wide blue eyes that are so clear they remind me of ice, except they’re anything but cold when they look at me.
He moves even closer, leaving us only inches apart. His breath feels smooth and warm on my skin—like a slow Southerly breeze.
I take a step away, jumping when my back meets solid stone. Honestly, this tiny structure only has pieces of walls; how did I let myself get trapped against one of them?
“That’s fine,” I say when I recover. “If you’re more comfortable with it.”
“I am,” he says. “Because it’s true.”
He puts his arms on either side of me, caging me between them. My heart slams against my chest so hard it feels like it will bruise me from the inside out.