Fang And Claw (Nocturne Academy 2)

God, could this really be right? Honestly, it was one of those things that felt so good, it made you think it must be wrong or sinful, just because of the wonderful, addictive pleasure it produced.

At last, I had my fill. Withdrawing my fangs from the big Drake’s wrist, I started to slide out of his lap on shaky legs. But Ari caught me in his arms and held me.

“Stay with me a little while, Kaitlyn,” he murmured, his deep voice rough with longing. “Don’t leave so soon. We don’t have to speak—just be with me for a while.”

I felt like I could hardly refuse, considering that he’d just fed me his blood. Besides, I wanted to stay with him—wanted to feel surrounded by his big body, safe in his arms. Wanted to know that for whatever reason, someone like him could want someone like me.

Though I still didn’t understand why.

47

Kaitlyn

I dreamed of The Fire again that night but this time, for the first time ever, the dream was different. I dreamed of being enveloped in flames, as I always did, but this time the flames didn’t hurt. In fact, they curled around me in a friendly way, reminding me of old friends who had come to visit.

In the dream, I didn’t hear the screams of my parents this time. Instead, I wandered around my old house calmly and peacefully, though I was totally engulfed in flames and the entire place was burning down around me. For some reason, this didn’t bother me a bit. I moved through their flickering shadows as though I was moving through water, seeing The Fire with new eyes.

It was beautiful, really, my dreaming self thought. The patterns of light and shadows…the gold and crimson and vermillion flames…the way it filled the whole house—including me—with its warmth and power…

I woke with a start, feeling strange all over. The scars on my back, which hadn’t bothered me in ages, were itching horribly. I tried to scratch them, but of course I couldn’t and they itched too much for me to even think of drifting off again.

Giving up on going back to sleep, I got up as quietly as I could and went into the bathroom I shared with Emma and Megan. The bathroom had been made for a whole dormitory of girls and there was a long mirror which stretched in a shiny, reflective rectangle over the bank of sinks.

Though I didn’t normally like to look at myself or my scars, tonight the itching was too intense to bear—I had to know what was going on. Pulling up my night dress, I stood with my back to the mirrors and craned my head over my shoulder, trying to get a look at myself.

What I saw made me frown. The scars on my back, which had been the same twisted pinkish white as the rest of my body, seemed to have changed somehow. It was hard to tell, though, because there was a layer of dead, dry skin covering them.

When I saw this, I made a face. Well, gross! No wonder I was itchy.

Deciding the fastest way to get rid of the weird dry skin was to take a shower, I turned on the warm water and hopped in. There was a loofa with a long handle that I used sometimes when my scars felt extra tight or itchy. I used it now, reaching over my shoulder to scrub my back as well as I could.

At last the itching seemed to abate and I was able to turn off the water and dry off. Wrapping a blue towel around myself, I stepped out of the shower and turned with my back to the mirrors again.

When I dropped the towel, I let out a low gasp.

My scars had changed—they had rearranged themselves somehow into elongated shapes that mirrored each other perfectly.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Emma asked, coming into the bathroom with a yawn.

“Yeah, Kaitlyn, you’ve been in here for ages.” Megan came in right behind her. “Are you all right? Hey…” She squinted at the mirror. “What’s up with your back?”

Realizing I still had my towel drooping low around my hips, I started to cover up but Emma stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“No, Kaitlyn, let us see,” she said quietly. “Whatever it is, you know we won’t judge you for it—we love you.”

Megan nodded agreement.

“It’s hard to look at your own back so why not let Emma and I help? Are your scars hurting?”

“No,” I said tightly. “Not hurting exactly. They’re just…rearranging themselves somehow.”

“What? What do you mean?” Megan asked.

“And how is that possible?” Emma said.

“I don’t know. They just…moved.” I shrugged my shoulders, which made the new configuration of scars twitch in the mirror. “They used to be distributed all over my back,” I told my friends. “Kind of patchy where The Fire got parts of me but not others. But tonight I woke up all itchy and after I took a shower I looked and…” I shrugged again. “This is how they look now.”