Page 81 of Villains Never Die

He blocked it, throwing me off balance.

“Try harder, England,” he laughed.

I swung at his stomach. He dodged. My fist missed him by five whole inches. I tried swifter punches. He caught both my fists in his hands, holding me away from him.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his lips dropping into a frown.

The cold.

Oh fuck, the cold.

A gray cloth being burned away.

It wasn’t just a vision. It was a prediction.

My knee to his stomach broke his hold on my hands and he doubled over.

“Better,” he gasped. He straightened and readied himself for another hit. But I was past the absurdity of whatever Rook was trying to accomplish. I had predicted Gray’s death. I could have stopped this. My fists flew at Rook like bullets, and the more he avoided them, the harder I tried. Sweat drenched me, soaking my fine shirt, and rolled down my spine. I forgot the cold as the heat of fury consumed me.

Finally, Rook twisted me into a headlock. I struggled, turning and pulling, and I realized then—he was stronger than me.Hand-to-hand, maybe magic-to-magic, though he hadn’t given me the chance to try…

He was stronger.

I should have hated him for it. I should have wanted to wipe him off the face of the earth like every other opponent who stood a chance at defeating me.

Instead, it made me want to fold myself into him, to let him protect me and save me from this thing I’d done. I stopped struggling, and when he turned me toward him, he took my full weight as I collapsed from exhaustion and grief.

He held me up around my waist, my head falling to his shoulder.

“You won’t die alone,” he said, as if it were a promise.

“I saw this happening,” I croaked, the smell of citrus invading my nose. “The vision I had. This is what it meant. This is all my fault.”

He shook his head against my temple. “You didn’t understand what was happening. You couldn’t have known.”

When I finally pulled away from him, he stroked his fingertips down my cheek slowly, like his touch might glue all the pieces I was in back together.

“Stay at my place tonight.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I looked at him—really looked at him—and the sight of his face kept that all-encompassing cold at bay a little longer. I looked at him and thought maybe he was the only one who could save me from it. A dangerous thought burrowed into my heart and made it ache.

“Because I just can’t.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded, and neither of us had any fight left in us.

“I’ll text you the address,” he said. “Just in case you change your mind.”

I wouldn’t. Walking into Rook’s home meant acknowledging that I felt safe with him, and that safety was born of caring for him.

And I swore, standing in front of him, that I would never care that much about anyone again.

***

I stared at the address Rook had texted me for two more hours, and as daylight crested the horizon, glowing pale orange through my raised window blinds, I changed my mind.