Page 38 of Starve
“She didn’t,” Cairo replies. “Now go away before I have to show you my teeth.” There’s a warning in his dark eyes, and he definitely doesn’t seem as exhausted as last night. When thecreature doesn’t move right away, Cairo does just that; lifts his lip a little, to display the edges of his shiny, white fangs.
That does it, though I don’t know how or why. The creature turns and strides away until he’s invisible in the trees, and I can breathe normally. But when I try to tug my hand free of Cairo’s, he doesn’t let me.
“What have you done to yourself?” he scolds, glancing down at the red scratches on my palm that, now that I’m looking as well, make it look like I was trying to tear open my skin. “And how did you not notice him until you nearly walked right into him? Which, by the way, would’ve been unfortunate.”
“For me?” I ask, shaking free to rub my thumb over the marks with a hiss.
“For him,” Cairo corrects. But he pushes my hand away again, then grips my chin and pulls my face up to meet his gaze. “Oh, you’re not doing so well, are you?” he asks while searching my eyes. “I thought I smelled it on you. But I wasn’t sure. You always smell a little anxious.”
His words are all so strange that I have to stand there to let them process. The idea that he cansmellwhen I’m upset or anxious is unnerving, and I can’t help the question that falls from my lips before I can shove the words back in. “Can you smell other moods too?”
Cairo blinks, one brow arching toward his bangs. “Yes,” he answers simply. “Some are easier than others to differentiate, but I’ve had a lot of practice.” Instead of asking more, I simply watch his face, hoping he’ll give something away.
He doesn’t, of course. He’s just as hard to read as he was every time I’ve seen him, and with his attention fixed all on me, I feel more unnerved than certain about his intentions.
“Why are you in my woods?” I murmur at last, searching his face for any tiny clue. “I won’t lie, Cairo. It still feels a little likeyou’re stalking me.” He just fixes me with that look, and my stomach clenches a little. “Holy shit, are you stalking me?”
The only answer I get is a little shrug, and Moro whines, prompting me to look down. “Ouch!” I gasp when Cairo runs his fingers a little harder over the scar that I’ve been messing with, his nail running along the mark. “What are you doing?”
“The same thing you were doing. Only I’m being nicer about it.” He tugs me closer without explanation, his eyes on mine once more, brows furrowed. “You’re not doing so well,” he says again, his voice soft. But this time, it’s not a question like it was before.
“I’m fine,” I deny, though I still feel like I’m falling apart at the seams. Especially now, with the adrenaline from what we saw out here wearing off. Thinking of it makes me turn, and I can’t help but look between the trees to see if there are any more of them, or if I can see anything out of the ordinary. “Where did it—he—come from? Why?—?”
Cairo crushes me to his chest suddenly, and my brain goes blank. All of my thoughts snap right to him and this, as his touch grounds me and brings me back to this moment. Carefully I reach up, my hands twisting in the long-sleeved t-shirt that hugs his form. He’s not dressed for late summer when it’s particularly cool out here, but I’m not doing much better in my own lightweight shirt and loose pants.
It’s…nice, I have to admit to myself. Somehow, his being right here and holding me this tightly keeps my mind in the present, instead of overworking itself. With my grip on his shirt and my nose pressed to his shoulder, it’s easier to focus on things other than the universe and floating above the trees while I just try to go through the motions.
“I have problems, you know,” I find myself murmuring into his shirt.
Cairo snorts. “Join the club, little bird.”
“And I have questions. A lot of them, and if you’re trapping yourself with me—” My words end in a very undignified squawk as I suddenly find myself up off the ground, dangling over his shoulder. “Cairo!” I howl, scrambling for purchase as he walks. “What are you doing?!”
“You’re such a good girl, Moro,” Cairo praises, totally ignoring me. “Even if you did start barking and wanted to rip up the couch today because you were bored without Fern. That’s okay. I’m bored without her too.”
A shudder goes through me, my fingers cold and gripping against his shirt. “How did you know that?” I breathe. “Seriously, are you stalking me? Watching my house? Are you?—”
He pulls me down hard, causing my back to slam against a tree, though he doesn’t let the back of my head come near it. Cairo tilts his head to look at me, his eyes seeming so dark that he almost has no iris. “You have so many questions, little bird,” he muses, leaning close to me. “It’s like you forget I could eat you and barely feel bad about it.”
“Okay, but…youwouldfeel bad about it. So you won’t. Right?” I ask, hopeful, nervous, and anxious all at once. His warmth radiates against me, and when he reaches out to lightly grip my jaw with one hand, I force myself not to flinch. I want to prove that I’m not afraid of him, or at least die trying.
Cairo rolls his eyes, and before I can blink, I’m back over his shoulder. My view includes Moro as she walks at his side like a very loyal puppy and his ass in the well-fitted jeans he was wearing last night, still stained with blood. Well, at least he has a new shirt. Beggars can’t be choosers when they’re thrown over a man’s shoulder, I tell myself, and try not to focus on the iron band of his arm across the backs of my thighs. I hear his feet on my deck stairs rather than see where we are, and he slides open the door to my small house with a quick, easy motion. Morogoes in first, like always, and I give a protesting struggle with an irritated groan on my lips.
“My legs aren’t broken.”
“Maybe I like carrying you.”
“Maybe you’re a stalker.”
He sighs at that, and seconds later, Cairo grips the back of my shirt as he pulls me back down. But he doesn’t let me stand up. Instead, he tosses me onto my sofa, dropping me there on my back so I can see my ceiling. At least until he leans over me, caging me in with his arms. “You don’t smell right,” he informs me, mouth open as he inhales. I can still see the tips of his fangs, and before he can walk away, I reach up to grab his hand.
“Why didn’t you look like that at Bluebone Ridge?” I ask, getting to my feet when he tries to pull away. “Cairo!” I grab the back of his shirt with my other hand, refusing to let him go. Even with my heart racing and my brain churning overtime, I refuse to let him walk away. Not when I need to know. “Answer me!”
When he doesn’t answer, I do something stupid. I whirl around in front of him and shove him back, or try to, hoping to surprise him into sitting down so I can have some kind of leverage, some kind of intimidation factor, while I’m on my feet and he isn’t.
Even though he doesn’t appear that muscular, he doesn’t move an inch. But Cairo does snarl, his teeth on display, and I barely get a chance to regret my decision before my back is against the wall, lifted high enough that my feet dangle in the air at least six inches above the ground.
“Because, Fern,” he snaps, his eyes seeming to get darker, pupils expanding like they’ll pull me in and trap me in his gaze. “Because that night at the sanitarium, I wasstarving.”He shows me his fangs, all of his teeth sharp like they’ve been filed to points. “I was so fucking hungry, and I worried that if I didn’t eat, then I wouldn’t be able to protect you. To save you fromthem.” He sneers the words, getting closer to my face. His hand is tight around my throat, keeping me aloft, but when I give a soft noise of anxiety, he presses one thigh between both of mine so I’m no longer dangling from just my neck.
