Firelight by Sophie Jordan Read Free Book Online Page B

he’ll get a pass, too. Disappear with the others.
    But he doesn’t get in line. He moves into the room, a single notebook clutched loosely in his hand.
    Then, he stops, angling his head strangely. Like he hears a sound. Or smells something unusual. The same way he looked in the hall today. Right before he saw me.
    I toy with my book, letting the pointy corners bite into the sensitive pads of my fingers.
    “Hey, you okay?” Nathan’s voice booms above me.
    Wincing, I force myself to stand, crawl back onto my stool. “Yeah.” I can’t hide forever. We’re in the same school. Apparently the same study hall.
    I stare straight ahead, at the chalkboard. Anywhere but at him. But it’s impossible. Like forcing my eyes to remain wide-open when biology demands I blink. So I look.
    His gaze finds me. He walks toward our table. I hold my breath, wait for him to pass. Only he doesn’t. He stops, the sliding scrape of his shoes on the floor a long scratch down my spine.
    This close, I stare into eyes that can’t decide on a color. Green, brown, gold—if I look too hard I get lost, dizzy. I remember the ledge—the two of us, enclosed in that damp, tight space. His hand on my draki skin. The word that I think he said.
    Shivering, I break free of his gaze and stare down at the table, concentrate on inhaling slow even breaths. I look back up at the sound of his voice, ensnared in the velvet-smooth rumble.
    “Mind if I sit here?” he asks Nathan while looking at me.
    “Guess not.” Nathan shrugs, shoots an uncertain look at me as he grabs his backpack. “I was heading to the library anyway. See you later, Jacinda.”
    Will waits a moment, stares at the vacant stool before sitting. As though he expects me to say something. Stop him? Invite him? I don’t know.
    He turns slightly on his stool and smiles. Just a small smile, but lovely. Sexy.
    A dangerous warmth begins to build inside me. Unwanted right now. My skin pulls tight, eager to fade into draki skin. The familiar vibration swells up through my chest. A purr grows from the back of my throat. Instinct takes over and I’m almost afraid that if I do say something, it will be in the rumbling cadence of draki-speak.
    Funny. In this desert, I worried my draki would shrivel, die as Mom wants. But around this boy I’ve never felt so alive, so volatile. I chafe a hand over my arm, willing my skin to cool down. For my draki to fade. At least for right now.
    In silence, we sit. And it’s the strangest thing. He knows about me. Well, not me. He couldn’t possibly know that this me is that me. He knows about us though—my kind. He saw me. He knows we exist. He saved me. I want to know everything about him. And yet I can’t speak, can’t say anything.
    Not a single word. I’m too busy focusing my thoughts, on keeping the core of me cool, relaxed.
    Keeping the draki away. I want to know him better, but without breathing, without speaking, I can’t see how.

    The only thing I need to know about him is that his family hunts. I must not forget that. Ever. They kill my kind or sell us to the enkros. In their foul hands, we’re either enslaved or butchered. My skin shrinks, and I remind myself he is part of that dark world. Even if he helped me escape, I should avoid him. And not because Tamra told me to. I should gather up my stuff and move to another table.
    Instead, I stay where I am, balancing so carefully on my stool, making certain our bodies don’t brush.
    “So,” he says, like we’re in the middle of a conversation. Like we know each other so well. A nerve ticks, jumps near my eye at the sound of his voice. “You’re new.”
    I summon the strength to strangle something out. “Yeah.”
    “I saw you earlier.”
    I nod and say, “Earlier in the hall. Yeah. I saw you, too.”
    His eyes warm, slide over me. “Right. And in PE.”
    I frown. I don’t remember seeing him during fourth period, don’t remember feeling him.
    “You were running around the track,” he