Firstlife by Gena Showalter Page A

gold.
    He could be a poster boy for both realms. One moment he’s surrounded by darkness, the next he’s set free of the gloom. Radiant.
    I lick my lips and ask, “Have you ever been in love?”
    He gives me a strange look. “Why do you want to know?”
    â€œSimple curiosity.”
    â€œThere’s nae such thing as simple curiosity. Either you’re analyzing me, or you’re interested in me.”
    â€œAnalyzing,” I rush out. Yes, yes. Surely that .
    â€œVery well. The answer is yes I have, but no, I won’t give you any other details. Unless you’re willing to trade? My life story for your agreement to sign with Myriad.”
    Zero! I’m beyond curious, but his price is too high. “You have to tell me without strings. We’re on a date, aren’t we?”
    â€œNo. We’re on a death match.”
    Right. “So tell me about the girl, or I’ll scoop out your eyes with my spoon.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure you ate your spoon.”
    A statement I can’t refute, considering I don’t see the utensil anywhere.
    Okay. That’s it. Wine and trust exercises make me stupid. Let’s put an end to this.
    I push to my feet, sway just a little. I mean to say, I’m sure we’ve wasted enough of each other’s time. We’re parting ways. But he peers up at me, those long lashes teasing me, and what I end up saying is, “You should probably shave your eyelashes. They’re distracting. Good night.”
    â€œSit down, Ms. Lockwood,” Dr. Vans commands. “The date isn’t over.”
    Killian snaps his teeth at the camera before he stands. He peers at me, his eyelids hooded, his lips pink and moist—he’s just run his tongue over them. “I could make you feel good, Ten. After you sober up.” And his voice...his voice is already in bed, naked and waiting for me.
    I don’t want a naked boy in bed, waiting for me. Do I?
    Oh! Oh! And his scent. Peat smoke and heather wraps around me, a delicious smoke that joins the fog in my head.
    â€œYou want to feel good...don’t you?” He’s practically purring.
    I try not to shiver. I shiver a lot . The charmer is back, and he’s turned on high.
    Turned on? Bad choice of phrase. What is wrong with me?
    â€œI can make myself feel good,” I say and stop breathing. Please tell me I didn’t just utter those words. “How long will you make me feel good?”
    â€œDoes it matter? Good is good.”
    A nonanswer that is more telling than he probably realizes. He’ll hit and run, and I’ll be left to deal with yet another rejection. “It matters, because I matter. To me! You’ll be done with me the moment I sign with Myriad. Well, I’m going to tell you a secret, and you have to keep it.” I cup my hands around my mouth and whisper-yell, “I may never sign with one of the realms.” Take that, Vans.
    Killian’s features twist in a glower. “Why would you do that to yourself? Many Ends offers only pain and suffering.”
    â€œMany Ends may not be real.” I push him away, but he’s strong and backs up only because he chooses. “I just want the freedom to make my own choice without interference. That’s all.”
    â€œYou have freedom. You have freedom right now. You had freedom yesterday, and the day before and the day before that. No matter where you are or what you’re doing, you have freedom of choice. You’re so afraid of making the wrong decision, you’re actually stagnant.”
    I’m now astounded. He—the evil charmer—nailed it. I have the power to make my own decision any day...any second, but I haven’t done it, because I’ve let my doubts become quicksand at my feet.
    Needing to get away before I throw myself at him and hug him, I inch around him. “I’m going to think about what you said...tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.