Page 40 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Cassiopé

T he trip to Otocyon is uneventful.

Maybe because Elhyor thought to book one of those automated jets that can fly super fast and carry at least six people.

When Léandre entered it, I just sat on the opposite side and started to read.

Read is a bold word, though, because I don’t think I remember a single word I read during the entire trip.

Why?

Because I’m starting to think I’m a masochist who likes to look at what isn’t anymore… who isn’t anymore.

And that’s all I’ve been doing since Léandre closed his eyes to take a nap—watching him.

If I was good with a pencil, I could draw him from memory now. I know that.

I also know that I’m shit at drawing. Maybe just stick figures. That’s probably the best I can do.

He seems relaxed. I can see his chest rise and fall, and it’s like I’m mesmerized.

It might not help that he put on one of his old shirts and that he put on some muscle since I left him in his room all those weeks ago.

Because it means the fabric keeps stretching on the expanse of his pecs each time he inhales and I’m suddenly very jealous of that damn shirt.

And my eyes keep straying to it.

It’s like my body, mind, and heart can’t agree.

My heart says, “please, no more,” my mind says, “we should stay away,” my body didn’t get the memo and thinks “looks good, let’s have a piece of that.”

Which makes me a mess when I should just stop wanting things I know are out of reach.

For all I know, this new version of Léandre might not even be attracted to me.

He sure didn’t try to seduce me right after meeting me.

You were crying and then you proceeded to avoid him altogether, you idiot.

No, I can’t think like that.

I’m no idiot.

Yes, our second meeting was less than perfect, and yes, I stayed away on purpose.

But I would do it all over again.

I still want to stay away.

I’m just wondering how it’s going to be possible, when I won’t see a single other soul for days—maybe weeks.

To stay away, I came prepared. My e-reader is fully charged and can survive for at least a week, maybe ten days. I have a dozen books already loaded on it, and if that’s not enough, a quarter of my bag is filled with books.

And if that’s still not enough, I made piles on my desk, and whoever comes to meet us every week will know to bring a pile. I even put numbers on each so that they’re brought in a certain order.

So, that’s the plan—stay buried in my books and not talk with Léandre, or as little as I can.

It already seems like it’s going to be a hard task.

I’ve been alone with him in the car for less than an hour, and I can’t remember a single word I’ve read.

I’m not even sure if I read anything, actually.

The jet slows, and I look out the window.

We’re over a forest, and I can’t see what’s under the canopy of trees.

We’re also super high, and I know that only someone with wings could get where we’re going.

It makes me wonder how a bat-eared fox could get here, but I’ll probably never know.

The jet stops and hovers over the thickest patch of trees.

I can’t see anything other than trees kilometers away.

The doors open, and the seats start vibrating.

That’s one way to tell us it’s time to go.

I get up and push my suitcase to the edge of the jet, letting it drop and hoping there’s nothing fragile under those trees because this bag is heavy.

I’m also glad I didn’t make this trip with pristine editions.

I’m scared to see what state they’re going to be in.

Léandre is still not waking, so I reluctantly approach him and poke at his arm.

All I want to do is wrap my hand around his arm and stroke the skin.

Nope—not going there.

I poke him again, and he finally opens his eyes.

“We’ve arrived,” I tell him without meeting his eyes and moving back next to the door.

“Time to jump?” he asks, and I nod.

“Okay, alright, give me a minute to wake up. I’ll meet you on ground level,” he adds.

“Can I push your bag overboard first? If I’m under the canopy, you won’t see me and might drop it on top of me without even knowing,” I say.

I had time to think things through.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he tells me as he yawns and stretches at the same time.

The movement makes his shirt climb up a bit… and yep, I got a good sight of his abs and happy trail.

Stop ogling the man, Cassiopé.

I turn my eyes toward his bag. I can focus on that.

“Wait,” Léandre tells me when I start pushing. It’s precariously holding on the side of the opening, but Léandre quickly removes his shoes, stuffs them inside the bag and then closes it again.

I give him a questioning look, but he’s too busy stretching again, so he doesn’t see it.

And I’m too busy berating myself for letting my eyes wander again to ask the question.

I push his bag overboard, wait a few seconds, and then jump.

I let myself free fall for a few seconds, and then I get my wings out.

The wind feels warm and soft against them, and I slowly glide to the trees.

I find a small opening and then get through it.

Except it isn’t really an opening, and all I get through are tree branches.

There isn’t enough room for my wings to maneuver.

And then I’m falling through the trees, and all I can think about is closing my wings against my back so they don’t get snagged on the way down.

I feel like this is going to hurt.