Why Can’t a Girl Just Have an
Ordinary HEA These Days?
Four days later, I finally get to start classes again—for real this time, complete with Brit Lit homework, a research paper on the causes of the Salem Witch Trials, and my very first counseling appointment with Dr. Wainwright. Plus, actual makeup work for what I missed when a psychopathic vampire tried to murder me. Which seems a little unfair, if you ask me, but who am I to complain when I get to spend every morning, every lunch period, and nearly every evening with Jaxon, who is doing an admirably good job of staying in the moment and not borrowing trouble.
We’re together right now, in fact, grabbing breakfast in
the cafeteria and joking around about Luca’s latest dating debacle—which, even I have to admit, is a doozy.
I’m eating brown sugar Pop-Tarts—Macy grabbed the last pack of cherry ones, because she’s mean like that—and Jaxon and the rest of the Order are drinking their morning rations of school-supplied elk blood out of opaque tumblers. Turns out, that’s what all the big orange beverage coolers are for—feeding the vampires.
Cam still hasn’t worked up the nerve to join us yet, but Macy has high hopes for him finally coming around. I’m not so sure—Jaxon’s reputation has only grown more
intimidating since what happened with Lia got around, and nearly everyone is giving him an even wider berth than usual. I keep telling him they’d relax a little if he smiled more, but so far he hasn’t taken my advice. Personally, I think it’s because he believes that the more scared they are, the safer I am.
I don’t necessarily agree, but I do have to admit things have been shockingly quiet lately. No one has tried to poison me or turn me into a human sacrifice in at least ninety-six hours. It’s definitely a record, one I am more than happy to ride out as long as possible.
The warning bell rings as I take my last sip of tea, and I glance up to find Jaxon staring at me, a (very) slight smile on his lips. “What’s up?” I ask as I grab my Pop-Tart wrapper and mug.
“Just looking at you.” He leans over, presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Wondering what you’re thinking about.”
“You,” I answer. “Just like always.”
Rafael pretends to gag. “No offense, but could the two of you try to refrain from sending the rest of us into sugar shock?”
“Vampires don’t metabolize sugar the same way regular humans do,” I inform him with a grin. “Hence, no sugar shock.”
“Now look what you’ve done,” Mekhi interjects. “You’ve created a research monster. She’s obsessed.”
“Pretty sure it’s the librarian who’s done that,” Jaxon answers dryly. “Every day, Amka has as least five more books for Grace to check out.”
“Hey, if I’m going to live with vampires, I need to know as much about them as possible,” I tell them as I stand up and tuck in my chair. “It’s pretty normal to want to learn about your surroundings.”
“You know what else is normal?” Jaxon asks as he bends down so his mouth is only a few scant inches from mine.
“I have a pretty good idea,” I answer, tilting my face up so that our lips can meet.
“Look at us,” I whisper against his mouth a few seconds later. “Being normal.”
He scrapes a fang across my lower lip, gives me a sexy look that turns my insides to mush. “Almost normal.”
“I’ll take that.”
He grins. “Yeah, me too.”
He moves in for another kiss, one that makes my head swim and my knees tremble, and I can’t help but melt against him. I’ve never been big on PDA, but Jaxon has me breaking all the rules, and I’m pretty sure I’m doing the same for him. Especially if Lia’s right and we really are mated.
Not that I’ve told him that yet. I mean, the boy’s already terrified of this whole relationship thing. If I bring up a word like mate—something Macy spent a long time explaining to me a couple of days ago—I’m pretty sure the earthquake Jaxon generates will crumble the school.
It’s Mekhi’s turn to snark about how sick he is of being late to class because some people can’t keep their lips to themselves. Jaxon flips him off, but the words must sink in, because he pulls away from me and reaches for my backpack.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to class.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I glance at the clock. “You’ll be late to physics.”
He shoots me a give-me-a-break look. “Somehow I’m sure they’ll survive without me for five minutes.”
I’m not so sure about that, but I know enough about Jaxon
—and the sudden, stubborn set of his jaw—to know when to argue and when to let it go. Besides, letting him walk me to class comes with an extra perk. With him next to me, no one is going to bump into my still aching shoulder or any of my other injuries.
It’s a win-win situation.
At least until we pass a small group of dragons on our way out of the cafeteria. Jaxon ignores them, and I try to, but Flint is right in the middle. And he’s trying to catch my eye.
I want to ignore him, I really do. But like I told Jaxon the other day, there’s a part of me that understands why he did what he did. I mean, I’m not ready to start roasting marshmallows with him again, but I can’t hate him, either.
And I can’t ignore him.
Instead, I let my gaze meet his for a couple of seconds. His eyes widen and he gives me the grin that’s been making me laugh since my first day at Katmere. I don’t laugh this time, but I do smile just a little as I walk on by. And for now, it’s enough.
I kind of expect Jaxon to say something about what just happened as we weave through the halls, but he doesn’t say a word. Guess I’m not the only one learning to compromise. I squeeze his hand just a little harder in a silent thank you, but he just kind of shakes his head in
response.
It all feels very normal, and very right.
I know Jaxon still worries—and will continue to worry—that his being with me makes me a target. And there’s a part of me that knows he’s right. That I will never be safe if we’re together.
But no matter what he thinks, it’s not Jaxon’s job to protect me. I’ve known from the first day that he wasn’t meant to be the hero of my story. And I am more than okay with that.
Because he smiles now in a way he never did before. He laughs. And, on occasion, he even tells me a really bad joke or two. I’ll take that over safe any day, especially when safety can be snatched away at any moment.
Which reminds me… “Hey, you never did tell me the punch line of that joke from the other day.”
We stop a few feet away from my classroom, partly to take advantage of the now nearly empty hallway and partly in an effort not to freak my whole Brit Lit class out again.
“What joke?” he asks, puzzled.
“You know. The pirate one. Remember? What did the pirate say when he turned eighty?”
“Oh, right.” Jaxon laughs. “He says…”
I never get to hear the punch line. A flash over Jaxon’s shoulder catches my eye, followed immediately by a noxious and eerily familiar cloud of black smoke. I start to stumble backward, trying to pull Jaxon with me, but it’s too late. As the smoke clears, a figure emerges—Hudson Vega, a giant broadsword aimed directly at Jaxon’s head.
The horror on my face must be evident because Jaxon begins to glance over his shoulder. But the sword is already in motion. There’s no time for him to see the threat or react.
Panicked, I grab his arms and pull him toward me. But even as he falls forward, I know it won’t be enough. He’s still in the path of the blade. For a fleeting moment, I remember how he looked last night, stretched out on his bed. He was leaning over me, resting on his elbow, with a sleepy smile and eyes hazy with desire.
His hair had fallen into his face, and I reached up to push it back so I could see his eyes. For the first time, as my hand touched his scarred cheek, he didn’t flinch. His smile didn’t waver, and he didn’t turn away. He stayed with me, in that moment.
Relaxed.
Happy.
Whole.
And that’s when it hits me. Jaxon was never meant to be the hero of my story… because I was always meant to be the hero of his.
So, in the end, I do the only thing I can. I wrap myself around him, spinning us so that my back is to the sword. Then I close my eyes and brace for the blow I’ve always known might come.
