Page 12

I could barely believe it. For so many years I had lived like a pariah among my own people.

I was inextricably linked to my Drake’s murderous actions—everyone assumed that I could have controlled him, could have stopped the murders he committed—and that I hadn’t out of spite and evil.

No one in the Sky Lands wanted to come anywhere near me.

And now Avery was offering me a hug . I could scarcely believe it.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I do want to touch you. I want to hug you—because I think you need it.”

Did I need a hug? It had been so long since anyone had touched me voluntarily, it was hard to say. But I knew that I wanted to be closer to Avery—that I felt drawn to him in ways that made no sense to me.

“Yes,” I said hoarsely. “Yes, I will…take a hug.”

He moved to sit beside me on my bed and put an arm around me. After a moment I turned to him and…very tentatively…put my own arm around him. Then Avery pulled me close and I found I was pressing my face to his shoulder as he held me.

There was, as he said, nothing sexual about it.

But he touched me as no one—not even my mother or father—had in years.

He stroked my back and shoulders as though I was worthy of such caring…

such kindness. He didn’t shy from my touch like I was some unclean thing—a vessel for a murderous demon, who must be avoided at all costs.

He held me to him as though he didn’t even see the sins that had tainted my existence for so long.

“Saint,” he murmured in my ear. “It must have been so hard for you. I’m so sorry .”

“It’s like living with a madman inside me,” I told him, my voice coming out low and rough. My eyes stung and the lump in my throat was so big it was hard to talk. “I can never tell what he will do next and I…I am not always strong enough to control him,” I admitted.

“I could tell you were doing your best to keep him from coming out all the way today in gym class,” Avery remarked.

He was still rubbing my shoulders and back soothingly and I found that I liked his touch and his arms around me—liked it a lot.

He was so warm and he smelled so good—like warm skin and clean clothes and kindness, I thought.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” I told him. “When you touched my cheek and talked to him…” I lifted my head to look at him. “He responds to you, Avery. In a way he has never responded to anyone else.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help you,” he said, sitting up a little and giving me a final pat on the back. It seemed our hug was over, though I wished that it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry I caused such a scene,” I told him. “I would have taken on Gonzales myself but my Drake wouldn’t let me—he wanted to come out and deal with him. Especially after he saw your wounds.”

I nodded at the bruised and swollen side of his face.

“Oh, this?” Avery shrugged and gave a self-deprecating little laugh.

“Please, I’ve had worse than this—you think I haven’t dealt with homophobic Neanderthals before?

Because I have, all my life. I told you, I’ve known I was a, er, ‘man-lover’ since I was six or seven.

And the other boys were not very forgiving. ”

“Couldn’t you hide it?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows. After all, his orientation wasn’t like my Drake, bursting out at the most inopportune times and places and doing things that were beyond my control.

Avery gave me a level look.

“I shouldn’t have to hide it, Saint. This is who I am. This is me— and I refuse to apologize for it.”

I looked at him with admiration. We were both different to the rest of the world—we both had a secret inside us. But Avery wore his with pride, while my cursed Drake was a constant source of shame to me.

“You’re very brave,” I told him. “In the Sky Lands, we are taught that lovers of men are weak and faint of heart. But I think you are one of the most courageous people I’ve ever met.”

“Well, thank you, roomie .” He smiled at me—an expression that lit up his whole face and made him more than handsome—which he already was.

It made him…well, it made him very attractive, though I didn’t really understand why.

For some reason I kept looking at his lips, which looked very soft. Very…kissable.

Not that I would ever kiss them, I told myself hastily. But the strange thought did give me an idea.

“Avery,” I said slowly. “There is one upside to my curse. At least, I have been told there is.”

“There is? What?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Supposedly I should be able to heal small wounds…like those on your hands.” I nodded at the rope burns.

“If…you would like me to try?” I asked hesitantly.

I had never offered to try healing anyone before—because I wasn’t close enough to anyone, except perhaps Jalli and Ari—to even think of it.

And I wasn’t strong enough to heal something big like Jalli’s twisted foot, only small things, like the wounds on Avery’s hands. But would he even want me to try it?

“How can a curse come with anything good, like healing magic?” he asked, frowning. “Did the witch who cursed you feel sorry and want to make it not so bad or something?”

“Oh, believe me, the bruja that cursed me had no guilt about it,” I said darkly. “But a pinch of good in an evil curse makes it that much stronger. The way a tiny pinch of salt in something sweet will make it sweeter.”

“Oh, I get it.” He nodded thoughtfully. “So…you really think you can heal me?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t really know—I’ve never tried it before. But…” I glanced at him uncertainly. “I’d like to try.”

“Well, sure—if you really want to.” He shrugged. “How does it work? Do we need to recite a spell? Maybe call the Corners? You know, ‘Hail to the Guardians of the Watch Towers of the West…’ It’s a witch thing,” he explained, when he saw my confused expression.

I shook my head.

“I don’t think so. I think I just have to breathe on the wounded areas and think of healing them.” I held out a hand to him. “Can I try?”

“I guess so.”

Avery gave me his right hand and I leaned over his wounded palm. The rope marks were red and angry-looking, even in the dimness of our room. Slowly, I brought his palm closer to my mouth and blew on it lightly.

“Oh!” Avery jumped, his fingers twitching in response to my breath. “I think I felt something. A kind of…tingle,” he said.

But when I looked at his palm, I saw no change in the angry red lines.

“I don’t know,” I said, frowning. “I don’t think I’m doing any good.”

“Try again,” Avery suggested. “Healing magic is difficult to master. Sometimes you have to do it more than once to make it work.”

Since I didn’t want to stop holding his hand in mine, I decided to try again.

“All right.” I nodded and leaned over his palm again.

But this time I brought it right to my mouth.

I opened my lips and breathed out, exhaling a little of my Drake’s warmth, though I was careful not to wake him as I did so.

But it wasn’t until I actually pressed my lips to Avery’s flesh, that I really felt the power begin to flow through me and into him.

“Oh…” Avery’s voice had gone a bit hoarse. “I definitely feel it working,” he said, his fingers twitching slightly again.

I breathed on his palm a few more times—pressing my lips to his wounded flesh—before drawing back to look at it.

“Good as new!” Avery looked surprised as he flexed his fingers and then rubbed his thumb over the place where he’d been hurt. There was no trace of the rope burns on his right hand now—not even a scar.

“I am glad it worked,” I told him. “Now let me heal the other one.”

Silently, he gave me his left hand and I breathed on it as well, pressing my lips to his palm as I did so.

I could feel my Drake’s warmth healing him as I did so and it gave me a surge of pure joy.

For the first time in my life, the immense, raw power that was bottled up inside me was finally doing something good for a change.

I was curing instead of hurting—using my Drake’s power for healing instead of evil and destruction.

I finished and Avery took his hand back…but I didn’t want to stop healing him. Didn’t want to stop touching him.

“Avery,” I said in a low voice. “Can I…could I heal your face as well?”

I touched the swollen right side of his face lightly with my fingertips and he looked up at me uncertainly.

“You…really want to?”

I nodded. I wanted to more than anything . Wanted to press my lips to his face, to his cheek, his forehead…his lips…

“Yes,” I told him, my voice coming out low and rough. “I want to heal you— all of you.”

“All right.” He shrugged, as though trying to make light of it, but he was looking at me as he did, searching my eyes with his own as though trying to find my motive.

I didn’t know what it was myself. Not just to heal him, surely. Maybe just to have him near…to touch him a little while longer…

Bending my face to his, I pressed my lips to his temple and breathed out my Drake’s healing warmth.

Avery shivered under my touch but didn’t move as I kissed him better.

I let my lips trail down his face, kissing around his wounded eye gently, feeling the swelling go down and erasing the bruises that were forming.

I kissed his cheek too, erasing the abrasions there.

Then I reached his mouth.

The right side of his bottom lip was swollen and split where Gonzales’s fist had smashed into it.

For a moment the thought of the big Drake hitting Avery— my Avery—made the rage rise in me.

I swallowed it down with some difficulty.

There was no time for anger now—this was the time for healing…

for showing Avery how I felt about him…even though I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt myself.

I hesitated, my lips hovering over the wounded spot, wanting badly to go on but not sure if I should.

“Saint,” he murmured hoarsely. “You…you don’t have to if…if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” I told him. “I want to so much, mi Corazon…”

I didn’t know where the words came from but they felt right. And then I was pressing my mouth to his, breathing softly against the split lip and then kissing it gently—just to be sure it healed correctly, of course.

Avery shifted restlessly, as though he wasn’t sure what to do. I pulled back and looked into his eyes. He was so close and his lips had been so soft, though I had only kissed the bottom one.

“Saint…” he breathed. “I…I don’t know if…”

“If you’re healed?” I murmured, looking at his lush bottom lip again. “I am not quite certain myself. Should I do it again, just to be sure?”

“If…if you want to.” His eyes were beautiful and filled with uncertainty.

“I want to,” I told him, and kissed him again, pressing my mouth to the place he had been hurt as I cupped his face in my hands. I held him as though he was something rare and precious and perfect…something only for me…

At last, though, I felt Avery’s hands on my chest and he was pushing me gently away.

“Saint,” he whispered, nearly panting. “Saint, no. You have to stop .”

“Why should I stop, mi Corazon?” I murmured.

“You’re not the one doing this—it’s your Drake,” he said.

I shook my head.

“He sleeps—for now.”

His eyes widened.

“Really?”

I nodded.

“I am using his power to heal you, but I am the one doing the healing.” I almost said, I am the one kissing you, but the words wouldn’t quite leave my lips. After all, I had only kissed him to heal him. Not for any other reason, right?

“Well…we should still stop,” he murmured, though I didn’t think he really wanted to. He touched his bottom lip lightly, where I had kissed him. “I’m healed now and you might hate yourself for this in the morning.”

I frowned.

“Why would I hate myself for healing you?”

“Well…I mean, you keep saying that you’re not a, uh, a man-lover,” he said hesitantly.

I shook my head.

“I’m not . But you’re my friend, Avery.” I caressed his now-healed cheek lightly with my fingers, liking the feel of his skin, the warmth of his body, so close to mine. “Why should I not heal my friend?”

“Oh, uh…” A look of confusion crossed his face and his cheeks went red and warm under my fingertips. “All right. Well, I’m glad that we’re friends again, but we should, er, probably go back to bed now. Get some sleep, you know?”

He moved to get up and go back to his own bed and part of me wanted to ask him to stay.

Not to do anything sexual…anything unnatural.

I just wanted to hold him against me, to feel his warmth and his skin against mine.

It had been so long since anyone had touched me, since I had touched anyone in return.

I just didn’t want the physical contact to end.

But it seemed that maybe I had taken things too far, because Avery was eyeing me warily, as though uncertain of what I might do next.

“Goodnight, Avery,” I said to him, as he slid back into his own bed. “Thank you for hearing my story and not…not hating me.”

“Uh…thank you for not hating me either,” he said. “And…for healing me.” His cheeks got red again when he said that and I felt my heart beat faster.

“I will heal you anytime you want me to,” I told him softly. “I enjoyed it very much.”

“I…I did, too,” he whispered. “Um, goodnight, roomie.”

“Goodnight…” The words, mi Corazon danced on the tip of my tongue, but in the end I swallowed them.

They weren’t the right words to use for a friend—especially a male friend, I was certain.

I didn’t know, exactly, how they had slipped out before.

It was an impulse—perhaps some buried urge that rose from my sleeping Drake to me.

But for whatever the reason, I didn’t say them again.

“Goodnight…roomie,” I said, instead, imitating his own friendly nickname for me.

Avery murmured goodnight again and then I turned over on my side and closed my eyes. But even though my Drake was silent except for a few dreaming murmurs, sleep was a long time coming.