Ink Exchange (Wicked Lovely 2)

Gabriel stepped in front of the dealer. “Girl’s leaving.”

The dealer reached out toward Leslie. And without thinking, she grabbed his arm, wrapped her fingers around his wrist and held it immobile and away from her body.

I could crush him. She paused at her thoughts, at the weird calm settling back over her, at the weird confidence. I could do it. Break him. Bloody him.

She tightened her grip just a little, feeling bone under the skin, fragile, in the palm of her hand. Mine to do with as I want.

The dealer wasn’t fazed by her grip, not yet. He was talking, telling Gabriel, “It’s cool, man. She lives here. It’s not a—”

“Girl’s leaving now.” Gabriel looked at Leslie and smiled. “Right?”

“Sure,” she said, looking dispassionately at her hand curled around the dealer’s wrist. She squeezed harder.

“Bitch. That hurts.” The dealer’s voice grew shriller.

“Don’t cuss in front of the girl. It’s rude.” Gabriel made a disgusted noise. “No manners these days.”

Something’s wrong here.

Leslie tightened her grip again; the dealer’s eyes rolled back in his head. She felt bones splintering and saw white through broken skin.

I’m not strong enough to do that.

But she stood there, holding the dealer’s wrist in her hand, still squeezing. He’d passed out from the pain, dropped to the ground. She let go.

“Where you headed?” Gabriel handed her a dark rag.

She wiped her hand, watching the immobile man at her feet. It wasn’t sadness or pity she felt. It wasn’t…anything. It should be, though. She knew that, even if she didn’t feel it.

“Why are you here?”

“To rescue you, of course.” He grinned, baring teeth that looked like he’d filed some of them to points. “But you didn’t need rescuing, did you?”

“No.” She nudged the dealer with her foot. “I didn’t. Not this time.”

“So let me give you a lift, since my rescue services weren’t needed.” He didn’t touch her, but put a hand behind her as if he’d rest it on the small of her back.

Not lying. His words felt true, not whole, not all there, but not lying.

She nodded and walked away from her house.

Some part of her thought she should be angry or frightened or ashamed, but she couldn’t feel those things. She knew that somehow she had changed, as surely as she knew Gabriel hadn’t truly lied.

He led her around the side of the house to a screaming-red Mustang, a classic convertible with black and red seats and vibrant detailing on the exterior.

“Get in.” Gabriel opened the door, and she saw that what she’d initially thought were flames on the sides of the car were actually a throng of racing animals, stylized dogs and horses with odd musculature and what looked like smoke writhing around them. For a brief moment, the smoke seemed to move.

Gabriel followed her gaze and nodded. “Now that I did myself. Boy might look like his dam, but he’s got my art.”

“It’s gorgeous,” she said.

He slammed the door behind her and went around to the driver’s side. After he slid the key into the ignition, he gave her a smile that was the exact same look she’d seen on Ani’s face before she did something inevitably unwise. “Nah. Gorgeous is how fast she moves. Hook your belt, girl.”

She did, and he took off with a scream of tires that could barely be heard over the roar of his obviously modified engine. She laughed at the thrill of it, and Gabriel gave her another Ani-ish grin.

She let the rush roll over her and whispered, “Faster.”

That time it was Gabriel who laughed. “Just don’t tell the girls you got to go for a ride before they did, okay?”