Page 158 of Because I Killed Him
He lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “Why?”
“I read that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Where?”
My stomach sinks as my memory flashes back to the pulpy romance novel I swiped from Vivian’s room. “In a book.”
He stares at me, half-stunned, half-recovering from the touch of my mouth on his skin. “No. You’re not supposed to suck out snake venom. That can actually make it spread faster.”
“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” I drop his hand and hurry to the creek, swishing water through my mouth as I activate my Bond to call for help.
“I don’t need a medic,” Edmund says quietly.
“Why not?”
“I’m immune to rattlesnake bites. All Blues are.”
I power down my Bond, and it dawns on me how random, if not strange, that is. “Only rattlesnakes? Or other snakes, too?”
He shakes his head faintly, but his eyes don’t leave me. His response seems delayed, like it’s been dragged from somewhere far away. “No. Just rattlers.”
“Why?”
“Honestly…” His voice trails off, as if he’s forgotten the question. He leans in, his gaze locked on me, his hand lifting almost helplessly until his fingers find my arm. His fingertips trace slowly upward past my shoulder, leaving a trail of hot, blooming spots on my skin. “…I don’t know.”
“Edmund,” I whisper, trying to snap him out of it, but my voice emerges hoarse and shaking, sounding more like a plea. He doesn’t stop. His hand slides up my neck, and as he draws closer, his expression tears wide, filled with the same unbearable, all-consuming longing I’ve been battling since the night we surfed.
“I’m the wrong color,” I whisper.
Edmund’s hand knots in my hair, shuddering with restraint. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. I’m Green, and you’re Blue.”
“I like green.” His other hand lifts to cup my chin, tilting my face toward his. “And I like you even more.”
My body presses into his even as I fight to resist. I curl my toes tightly in my boots, muscles straining against the longing inside me, so relentless it makes my eyes well up and sting. “Do you really, Edmund? Enough to cross this line?”
He edges back, letting me see the certainty in his face. “Yes. And do you know why? Because I don’t agree with it. Not the line or the people who drew it.”
“Your people did.”
“I know. Which ties me to it just as much as them. If nature had decided, there’d be no line between us at all. But men decided. And the hands that built us did it for control.”
I pull away slowly as he speaks, each word taking me further. Not because I disagree, but because his certainty makes me realize that of allthe people I’ve lied to, I’ve lied to myself the most. I’ve thought Edmund’s exact words a thousand times. I’ve raged against the laws, against the differences engineered into us by people who try to build gods without even believing in the idea of one. And yet, through all of it, I’ve held myself back. Only now do I let myself admit the real reason.
I’m afraid.
Afraid of punishment, afraid of loss, afraid of the Blues, who’ve done nothing but steal and destroy, twisting the world to fit the shape of their boot heels. And I see now, with sudden, startling clarity, that fear is the only chain binding me to the rules. I hate the system as much as Heretics do. I hate the world that lets it stand. And in this moment, I’m just as guilty as Edmund of belonging to it.
I stop beside his horse, still drinking at the river, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Across from me, Edmund rakes a hand through his hair, as if flustered by the sudden break between us.
“Am I your first?” I ask.
His head tilts, confusion flickering across his face. “My first what?”
“Low-citizen.”
“Yes.”
