Emery reached for him, and Connor sagged into the hand that cupped his cheek. A press of lips, just their lips, neither pushing for anything deeper, still made Connor shiver and feel his blush rise further up his face.
“No one else I’ve ever kissed made me feel the way you do,” Emery whispered.
“Ditto,” Connor said, pressing his forehead to Emery’s, eyes still closed. They leaned forward for another kiss and Emery’s other hand found the curve of Connor’s missing arm.
He flinched. He didn’t mean to, it just felt different when he had one of his prosthetics on. He felt incomplete without it. He was incomplete without it.
“What’s wrong?” Emery asked, his dark brows scrunched in concern. “I get why you acted weird the night that hunter broke your arm, but now too? It’s just me, Connor. Just us. I’ve seen you without your arm before. When we were little, there were several years there before you even had a prosthetic.”
“I know that.” Connor cringed, turned away from Emery. His hand came up to clutch at his stump before he could stop himself. “But now it’s been years that I’ve had one. Sometimes I forget I don’t have a normal arm. And seeing it and touching it are totally different.”
“Are you saying you wish I was creeped out?” Emery asked incredulously.
“No, god, it’s just…I don’t know why, but it’s different when we’re all close and—” Connor flinched again at the feel of Emery at his back, fingers snaking across his arm to cover the hand trying to hide his stump.
“I’m not going to think it’s weird now, just because we touch more. There’s nothing weird about it. Maybe you can be a little weird with how mad scientist you get with your arm creations, but that’s just part of your charm,” he chuckled. He pried Connor’s fingers away until it was just his hand curled around the smooth, rounded limb. “Besides, you hit me over the head with it all the time. You think I’m suddenly going to start thinking of you as handicapped?”
Connor huffed out a laugh, leaning back against Emery and letting himself relax into the feeling of him touching the one spot Connor sometimes resented about himself. “I hate that word. I’m hardly…handy,” he said, wiggling his elbow.
Emery’s breath stuttered against the back of his neck. “Jerk. Your prosthetics are awesome. And we can help so many people making a non-profit out of your designs, but you’re still you when you’re not wearing one.”
“You still want to do the non-profit thing?” Connor turned in Emery’s hold, breaking the connection of his touch, but wanting to look him in the eyes again.
“Of course. Why would that change?”
The fact that Emery’s once again scrunched brow proved that the thought of not following through with their crazy after high school plans had never once crossed his mind, made it impossible for Connor to do anything but kiss him. This time, when Emery reached for the curve of skin at the end of his missing arm, Connor didn’t flinch away.
Episode 31
Connor
The night Emery snuck in through Connor’s window was so branded into his mind, every day afterward he expected for the other shoe to drop—more than he had after their night in Aurora’s bedroom. Eventually, Emery would realize his mistake. Like someone else. Like some girl again. Grow annoyed and overwhelmed by Connor’s insecurities. Or the hunters would just bomb their houses.
None of those things happened.
There were tests and activities, the usual humdrum of high school life. Some nights Connor had homework. Most nights he worked on his prosthetic for Prom. He didn’t get to spend much time with friends outside of classes, including Emery, but by Friday the paint job on his new arm was drying. Once Saturday came around, he couldn’t wait to show Emery how his outfit had all come together, especially the arm.
Jules and Aurora had elected to get ready at Connor’s house. “It’s not any fun alone,” Jules had said, “plus I want some male opinions on this dress!”
Aurora had followed through with her Gaia idea, Mother Earth, goddess of all things, decked out in deep blues, and purple, and shimmering browns like some glorious field of flowers. It flowed around her, sleeveless and willowy. Jules, however, had gone with a more Norse goddess look, mostly white with gold trim, and some of her Renaissance Festival leather armor pieces for greaves and vambraces. She’d made a faux lightning bolt out of Styrofoam she could use as a staff—and throw at people.
Connor and Emery both sat back and watched the girls model their outfits, fuss over each other’s hair, get their makeup just right, before Emery excused himself into the bathroom to put on his outfit. Connor hid behind the door of his closet to do the same.
He switched out his prosthetic first. It was heavier than he was used to, but nothing like an actual fire extinguisher, since he didn’t want nearly that amount of foam or pressure going off. It had just enough Halon 1301 to give a small burst once, mimicking the cold gun effect Connor was going for. After tonight, though, he’d remove that portion and consider this a seasonal arm. It was perfect for the holidays, painted in various shades of blue and silver, with sparkling snowflakes all down the forearm. He’d even pulled out some of his old blue LED lights so that every crevice glowed.
It was basically the equivalent of having bedazzled himself, Aurora said. He didn’t mind. The arm had turned out bad-ass.
He just hoped the rest of the outfit didn’t look too absurd. He wasn’t exactly the suit and tie type. He could wear a T-shirt with a flannel or hoodie over it for the rest of his life. Emery was the one who pulled off high-collared sweaters or Henley’s with natural GQ poise.
Connor tugged at his tie, picked at a snowflake on the vest, and rolled his shoulders in the confines of the blue tux. He had the left sleeve rolled up somewhat to better show off his arm. He looked a little unbalanced like that, but the arm was so cool, it was worth it. Everything fit immaculately—his mother had made sure of that, having hemmed and fitted both boys’ suits during the week. Connor felt like James Bond, but even when he bit his lip and observed himself in the full length mirror along his closet, he wondered if he looked even remotely that good. He imagined Aurora laughing. He imagined everyone laughing.
“Connor Daniels, stop fixing your guy liner, and come out from behind that door!” Aurora said. She and Jules waited patiently on his bed—as patiently as Aurora did anything.
Connor steeled himself to just present the finished product to the room with one swift motion, when he heard his bedroom door open.
“Ready?” Emery called.
“Connor’s holding out,” Jules said.
“But you, Flash, look good enough to eat,” Aurora added. “Very snazzy, Mavus. Come out here already and get a look at your boyfriend, Captain Cold! Before Lady Thor and I claim him for ourselves!”
Those old butterflies were back, like a swarm of hornets in Connor’s stomach. He smoothed his hands down over his ice blue vest one last time, before taking a deep breath, and stepping out into the open. He spread his arms wide as he came into view of the girls on the bed and Emery standing beside it. He also flourished his blinged out arm a little. He’d never been so proud of one of his prosthetics.
“Well?” The hornets buzzed and churned in Connor’s gut when none of them said anything.
Emery looked tailored to perfection. Connor had seen him in suits before because of the many plays and musicals. This one held much more character than any of those. Burgundies and reds were a great color on him, with his dark complexion and green eyes. The little yellow lightning bolt accents on the vest and the yellow tie solidified the character he was personifying, but the snug fit, his gelled and tousled hair, the way one of his hands clenched as he looked at Connor…
“What?” Connor said, darting his eyes to the carpet.
Aurora twirled her finger in a vague motion at his body. “I’m just catal
oging this for later.”
Jules snorted and smacked her arm.
“So it’s good?” Connor asked, trying and failing to not glance up too expectantly at Emery.
“It’s good,” Jules nodded.
“Really? You’re not just messing with me? You swear I don’t look ridiculous?” Connor shifted and tugged at the bottom of the vest.
Emery stepped forward, and his blank expression blossomed into a grin. His clenched fist loosed as he reached for Connor’s prosthetic and inspected the design, the paint job, the smattering of snowflakes. “This is amazing. You look amazing.”
“You should totally clean up more often, Con-Man,” Aurora said.
If it got Emery to look at him like that, Connor might take that advice. He felt heat in his cheeks, he always did whenever Emery’s eyes lingered on him, but it felt highly inappropriate when he was portraying Captain Cold.
He tugged his hand away and pointed it palm out at Emery with a smirk. “Hands off the goods, Flash, or I might have to ice you.”
The girls giggled.
Emery squared his stance, settling into the act as well. “You’ll have to be faster than me first, Cold,” he said, and zipped forward using his vampiric speed, not having to hide it from Jules and Aurora.
They giggled harder as Connor’s prosthetic froze around Emery, caught up in his arms before he could act or even blink, and felt soft lips press lightly to his.
“Save it for the after party, boys!” Aurora said. “Let’s go. Jules convinced my dad to let her drive his Charger. Screw limos. Did you see that baby in the driveway?”
Connor had. It was black with a red stripe down the hood. But at the moment, he cared more about the way Emery’s hand pressed to the silky material of his vest before he pulled away, licking his lips after their brief kiss.
“Driving the T-bird, Con-Man?” Aurora asked once they were headed downstairs.
“Nope. Dad’s letting me take the motorcycle. Screw limos indeed.” He curled in the fingers of his plastic hand and offered it to her for a fist bump.
Connor’s mom stopped them for a few photos before they could escape. The official photos weren’t enough, she said, and also told them to be sure to take plenty of candids with their phones. Soon the girls had driven off in the Charger, cheering loudly out their open windows as they sped away, and Connor handed the extra motorcycle helmet to Emery.
Normally, he would have worn his dad’s, but since his mother’s was blue and his father’s red, it made more sense to match their outfits. Connor’s mom got a couple quick shots of them on the bike before his dad waved them off and pulled her back into the house. Officer Nustad followed at a respectable distance once they pulled out of the driveway.
Alec lay in wait for them at the school, watching the exterior with the other officers, but planning to go inside later and act as a sort of invisible chaperone. “Someone needs to make sure you young people aren’t doing drugs or grinding on the dance floor,” he’d said.
Wendy would act as a secondary escort on the way there. Emery had texted her just as they were leaving, so she knew to follow on a corresponding path one block over.
What worried Connor was the thought of the hunters holding out until after graduation. The police would surely back off then, figure it must be safe enough to leave the boys alone, and then—BAM. Maybe the hunters would follow them to college, attack on campus, away from their tiny town.
But tonight, with Connor’s mind focused on Prom, on him and Emery decked to the nines for as public a date as they had yet had, he never saw the ambush coming.
“Connor!” Emery called over the roar of the bike as they drove down the mostly empty street along the edge of the park.
“What is it!?”
“It’s Nustad! He’s not…” Emery’s voice drowned out a moment as he turned to look over his shoulder, “…he’s not behind us anymore!”
“What do you—”
A clatter and blur of something tumbling out onto the road was the only warning Connor received before the bike jerked forward and flipped, end over end. Time slowed as Connor sailed through the air, not breathing, not able to concentrate on what was happening, other than anticipating the moment when he would land and crack his helmet or break several bones. He hadn’t been going fast enough to kill them in a fiery crash but there were worse things.
Connor huffed as he landed, his shoulder jolting from the sudden stop, but no other pain assaulted him. His helmet was secure and in place. Nothing felt broken. He looked up and saw the black tint of Emery’s visor on the fittingly red helmet, equally intact, and finally felt the warmth of Emery’s arms around him, holding him in a crouched bridal carry. He’d caught Connor, saved him, while the bike skittered and rolled several feet away from them.
Emery set Connor down and pulled the helmet from his head. “Are you okay?” His eyes glowed bright green and frantic.
Connor shucked his own helmet off. “Barely banged up, thanks to you. What happened? Where’s Nustad?”
“I don’t know.” Emery looked around the dark, empty street. It shouldn’t be this empty, not even with their police escort mysteriously missing. They’d landed just off the curb leading into the trees of the park, the denser woods where they’d first met Wendy. “I noticed it was darker, that his lights were gone, and when I looked back…nothing. Look at that stuff.” He pointed to something like plastic netting with hard protruding triangles sticking up in the road. No wonder they had flipped.
“We better get out of here before whoever threw that makes another move.” Connor could feel eyes on him from every direction, but he didn’t know if it was legit or just paranoia. That thing in the road looked like hunter gear.
“We’ll have to leave the bike. I’ll run us to the school, as fast as I can.”
Connor nodded, readying himself for Emery to scoop him up and take off at max speed.
Just before he saw movement in the trees behind them.
“Look out!” he called, trying to shove Emery out of the way. But the next thing thrown at them wasn’t a weapon.
Emery spun around to face the trees just as Connor recognized what had rolled toward their feet and closed his eyes before the bright white of the flash bomb could blind them both.
~
I couldn’t see. The explosion of light was like the device Wendy had used on me, but so much worse. My eyes stung, and I groaned as I reached out for Connor.
“Come on!” he called to me, gripping my arm. He yanked me behind him at a run. “It’s okay, I can see! Just keep moving!”
I obeyed, trusting him to lead me through the woods. I only knew he had dragged us into the trees because I felt the occasional brush of leaves against my legs or the top of my hair. If only I hadn’t looked and been blinded, I could have gotten us out of there in seconds, safely to the school where Alec could have intervened. I just had to hope that Wendy was on our tail as planned.
“Call Wendy!” I said.
“Already dialing!” Connor’s fingers clung tighter to my wrist. We moved at a constant, forward momentum, until I heard his breath increasing to the point that he’d soon need to slow down or stop, his heartrate as loud to my senses in my blind state as my own, thrumming in my ears.
The blurry dark blobs of trees started to materialize, spots dancing in front of my eyes. I still needed Connor’s direction, but I guessed where he was headed. If we could get to the hill in the center of this part of the park, where kids often sledded down in winter, the school wasn’t much farther beyond that, and it provided plenty of cover.
“Wendy!” Connor cried in relief into his phone. “Thank god. Yes, we’re okay. In the woods, in the park. Right, where we first—ah!” He cried out as a loud crack sounded as if his phone had exploded. “Shit!” He tugged me along faster, and I di
stinctly felt something crunch beneath my feet.
“What happened?!”
“Arrow! Keep moving!”
Little by little my vision cleared. I could see the hill now, only a few yards in front of us. Then, in my periphery, I saw movement darting on a parallel path off to our right. The large shape of a crossbow lifted with a fresh bolt aimed right at us.
I gripped Connor around the waist and zipped us several yards forward out of the line of fire, where we tripped at the base of the hill and nearly tumbled. I could almost see again, but not clearly enough to take off for the school. I needed thirty more seconds—just thirty more seconds.
When we righted ourselves to turn and face the approaching hunter, I ushered Connor behind me, but he pushed back against my nudging and stayed at my side.
“You,” Connor growled. I couldn’t make out the details of the hunter, but I guessed this was the same one who had attacked Connor before, maybe the one who shot me at the school.
“Clever boys, but we’ve outmaneuvered you,” the hunter said, voice low and cold. “Your escort’s on a wild goose chase. Your hunter friend? Too far away. And the perimeter of this place is surrounded. We’ve set traps along every conceivable way out. And you’re not getting back the way you came in without going through me. Doubt you’re fast enough for that.” He centered the crossbow on my heart.
“Wait—” I tried, raising one hand, hoping that somehow I could talk him down, because I didn’t trust my sight or my speed to race toward him before that bolt released.
“Not interested,” he said—and fired.
The sound of air being cut made my breath catch. I froze, waiting for the same awful pain I’d felt at the school, only worse, because this bolt wouldn’t miss. I only realized why there was no pain when the last of the spots in my vision faded and I saw the back of Connor’s buzzed head.
Life as a Teenage Vampire Page 26