Page 45 of Killer of the Bells
“I owe you no such thing,” I replied, smoothly moving past the accusation about feelings. Whether I did or didn’t was irrelevant.
“Vale caught feelings, everyone! Come and watch! Baz, you owe me fifty bucks!” Apple interrupted, shouting at Love’s closest access panel.
“Fuck off, Apple. I told you to stay away from Echo. Adam, come and get your man before something unfortunate happens to him.” I let the wordunfortunatelinger in my mouth, stretching it out to emphasize the importance of Adam removing Apple.
Adam, Apple’s ever-present shadow, nodded, crouched down, threw Apple over his shoulder, and walked away, saying, “Time for a walk, Apple.”
“A walk? Are you crazy? Vale is about to confess his undying whatever to someone, thus admitting he has actual emotions for the first time ever, and you want us to…” Apple’s voice cut off abruptly as the front door closed.
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. When I had composed myself, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Adam that read:Don’t threaten Apple.I’ll keep him from bothering you until you sort things out.
Next to the text were two emojis—a mushroom and a cloud. I raised an eyebrow because I had no idea what the hell they were supposed to mean.
I put my phone back in my pocket and turned my attention back to Echo. “Let’s talk about this in my room,” I said,motioning for Echo to precede me to my elevator, but he set his jaw and shook his head.
“No. I’m not going up there unless you promise to kill me.”
I sighed heavily. “Why are you so eager for death?”
“Why are you?” Echo returned hotly.
I was taken aback and left momentarily speechless. I’d never mentioned my personal desires on the subject of death. Only Gareth knew for certain, because only Gareth knew what I had endured in that godforsaken hellhole he and I both escaped from. Gareth knew far more about me than I would ever be comfortable with.
“I… have my reasons,” I admitted. It was already more than I wanted to admit, but I owed Echo something.
“Give me one or I’m leaving.”
I wondered if Echo knew that he could only leave if I wanted him to and was being brave, or if he truly didn’t understand the situation he was in.
Did I want to force him to stay? No one would stop me. Gareth would only give me shit if he thought it would endanger the collective, and I could have Wraith make sure no one even remembered Echo’s existence, so it wasn’t an issue.
Why did I want Echo so much? What made him so special to me? I wanted to study him, to study us. I wanted to take us both apart piece by piece and discover exactly what it was that made me unable to stay away from him, but that was impossible. I could only continue to beat myself against him like a moth to a flame.
A fireproof moth against a fragile, flickering flame.
I couldn’t force him to stay. I could only entice him.
“I can’t tell you here,” I said finally.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s no one’s business but ours. Follow me to my room and I’ll tell you.”
Echo backed away. “Oh no, you don’t. If I go with you, you’ll just wave your magic dick around, and then I’ll do whatever you want. I know your tricks. You with your shampoo-ad hair and nice-smelling sweaters. I’m not going anywhere near your lair. You tell me here, or I’m bouncing.” His eyes showed a mixture of hope, curiosity, and fear.
I hesitated. I couldn’t tell him in such a public area. There was no privacy in the common space. Only in my wing of the house would I be able to assure that my personal details, my pain, and my past were kept safe.
Finally, I shook my head. “I can’t. Not here. I’ll tell you anything you want to know if you’ll come with me.”
All emotion fled Echo’s features. “Then I’m out.” He turned and stormed down the hallway, and I watched him go. I continued to watch after he left my sight, and long after I heard the front door slam. I also continued to stand there as I heard heavy footsteps run back up the stairs, heard the front door open, and heard Echo shout, “And I’m keeping the sweater!” before he stormed away again.
Finally, I heard Vix say, “For the love of kittens, Paris, please let me hug him. He needs it more than anyone ever has.”
I tore my gaze from the empty hallway door to see Paris shake his head and say, “Not happening,” with an unshakable finality.
Vix stomped his foot and said, “Fine,” and ran away to do whatever Vix did when he was upset.
Paris was never going to forgive me for throwing Vix that one time. I didn’t understand what the fuss was. I knew he’d be fine, or I wouldn’t have done it.
