Until I Die by Amy Plum Read Free Book Online Page B

the park was a circus and we were its freak-show headliners, and a few laughed out loud. Vincent said, “I hope you don’t mind spectators,” and then leaned forward and took my face in his hands, kissing me.
“I think I can deal.” I grinned, and then shivered as he let me go.
“We’ll make it a speed-picnic,” he promised, unwinding his scarf and double-wrapping it above my own.
We munched on croissants that were baked exactly how I love them: crunchy on the outside, light as air inside, with an inner core of doughiness. The café au lait was hot enough to warm my insides, and I sipped the supersweet freshly squeezed orange juice while Vincent caught me up on the news of how Charles and Charlotte were settling in the south. “We were talking about a road trip to take them more boxes, but JB claims he needs me here,” Vincent complained, popping the end of his croissant into his mouth.
“Sucks being JB’s second.”
“Oh, so you know about that?” he asked, amused. “Have my kindred been talking about me behind my back?”
“Yeah, Jules said something about it the other day. Right before he told me you were some sort of champion. Which I’ve actually been dying to ask you about.” I eagerly leaned forward on my elbows, watching as Vincent’s expression turned to one of dismay.
He covered his eyes with his hand. “Here we go again,” he moaned.
“What’s that mean?” I asked, intrigued by his reaction.
He leaned back until he was lying down on the blanket and addressed the winter gray sky above us. “There’s this ancient prophecy written by a revenant back in the Roman era. It said that one of us would arise to lead our kind against the numa and conquer them.”
“And what does that have to do with you?” I asked.
Vincent stared at the sky for another second, and then rolled onto his side to face me. “Jean-Baptiste has gotten it into his head that I’m the Champion.”
“Why?”
“Who knows? Probably because I was able to hold out for so long without dying. In that way, I apparently am stronger than others my ‘age.’ But it’s all so vague. Although everyone’s heard of the prophecy, no one knows exactly what it means.”
“You sound pretty sure it’s not you,” I said, feeling a twinge of relief. Dating a revenant was a big enough step without having to wonder if he was the supreme commander of the revenants.
“I think that it’s all a load of crap, and that it doesn’t matter anyway. What’s going to happen will happen, whether or not anyone knows about it ahead of time. What bugs me is that Jean-Baptiste has actually told people his opinion. And there’s nothing more intimidating than everyone watching you like a hawk, waiting for the moment you transform into the undead Messiah.”
I laughed, and Vincent reached for me, wearing that slow smile I couldn’t refuse. I kissed him—a long, warm meeting of our cold lips—and then, leaning back, I asked with as much seriousness as I could muster, “So if you’re the revenants’ Champion, and I saved you from Lucien, does that make me the Champion’s Champion?”
Vincent shook his head in despair.
“No, really,” I continued, unable to suppress a teasing grin, “I want a cool name too. Maybe you could start calling me the Vanquisher. Although I think I’d need a luchador mask to go with it.”
Vincent let out an exasperated growl and pushed me down on the blanket, pinning my shoulders to the ground and forcing me to give him another kiss. He placed a warm hand against my cold cheek, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Well, at the moment calling you the Ice Queen would be more accurate.” He rose and, taking me by the hand, pulled me to my feet.
I rubbed my gloved hands up and down my arms to get my circulation going. “Okay! Picnic in January … check!” I said with chattering teeth.
Vincent stuffed the thermos and blanket inside the basket. “And how’s it feel to do something you’ve never done