Of Beast and Beauty - Jay Stacey - Страница 32
- Предыдущая
- 32/73
- Следующая
“Not as different as either side would like to think,” he says, before
adding in a harsh voice, “Women are women, I can promise you that much.
The same tricks work the same way. You even make the same sounds when
you—”
“Stop,” I choke out, struggling to swallow past the sick feeling rising
inside me. For the first time since we touched, I feel ashamed. How could
he? How could he be so understanding one minute and cheapen every
unguarded thing that happened between us the next? “You’re cruel,” I say,
hating the catch in my voice.
“What did you expect from a corrupt soul?”
“Fine,” I snap. “Never mind. I should never have—”
“What if you weren’t tainted, Isra?”
I blink, startled by the change of direction. “What?”
“What if you’re wrong? What if you’ve been wrong your entire life?”
he asks. “What if there’s nothing Monstrous about you?”
“I thought you hated that word,” I whisper.
“I hate a lot of things.”
“I know you think …” I pause, not wanting to inspire any further spite,
but feeling I owe him honesty in a way I didn’t before. Spiteful or not, he
saved my life. And kissed me and held me and admitted it felt right, and
that has changed things between us. I can’t pretend it hasn’t. “I know you
find your people beautiful,” I say, “and I envy you that, I really do. But my
people … they don’t see beauty in mutation. It scares them. They were
horrified when they saw me for the first time at my coronation.”
Gem snorts as if I’ve said the most ridiculous thing in the world, and
anger flares inside me again. He wasn’t there. I was, and I heard the people
pull in a collective breath; I felt their surprise when they looked upon their
tainted queen for the first time.
“Believe what you want,” I snap, “but I know—”
“You know nothing. You’re not tainted. You’re nothing like a
Monstrous girl. Any one of them could break you in half, and not one has
skin that peels everywhere but their face,” he says, making me wince and
my fingers curl self-consciously, drawing up inside the long sleeves of my
sweater. “Whatever’s wrong with you, it’s not caused by resembling my
people. As far as I’ve seen, you look almost exactly like the other
Smooth—”
“I do not look like them,” I snap. “And no matter what you think, I
know if I weren’t queen, my life would be very different than it is now. I
might not be tainted enough to be cast out, but I am, without a doubt, ugly
in a way that puts the state of my soul and mind in question. That’s why I
can’t start issuing bizarre orders. I have to win my people’s trust. I believe
the garden will—”
“Stop,” he says. “I can’t listen to it again. I can’t.”
“I won’t talk at all, then!” I turn back to the fire and lean away from
him, wishing with every bone in my body it were safe to go for a walk. The
last thing I want to do is stay within spitting distance of this stubborn,
infuriating creature.
“There’s one thing I want to know first.” The gravel crunches, and I
sense that Gem’s moving closer, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of
scooting away. “If I’m hideous, inside and out—”
“I never said—” His arms close around me, and my words end in a
sharp intake of breath as he hauls me onto his lap. “Put me down!” I push
at his chest, but he ignores me and pulls me close, whispering his next
words against my skin.
“If I’m so ugly in every way,” he continues, the feel of his mouth
moving against my cheek making my blood rush in spite of myself, “then
why do you want me, Isra?”
“I—I need your help. And your father promised you would—”
“Don’t be stupid. You know what I mean.” His hands skim over my
body, one teasing the skin at the back of my neck, the other tracing the
column of my spine from top to bottom before smoothing around to my hip
and squeezing tight, fingers digging in until my belly flutters.
I shiver, and I know he knows the reason why. My lips part and my
breath rushes out, but I don’t scramble away. I close my eyes and count
slowly to ten and try to remember how hurt I was when he compared me
to all the other knots he has untangled.
But it’s so hard. Because he’s right. I do want him. I wanted him
before, and I want him even more now. I want to banish the ugliness
between us with my lips on his. I want to kiss him until his blood runs fast
and he whispers my name in his thick, needy voice instead of his tight,
angry one.
Words only bring pain; we should use hands instead. I lift my hand to
his face, smoothing my thumb across the hint of whiskers on his cheek.
“Answer me,” he whispers, fingers slipping into my hair.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer.” His jaw muscle leaps beneath my fingers.
“Why? Because I’m here, and we’re alone? You’d have done the same with
any boy?”
“No, it’s not …” I lick my lips, torn between the painful truth and a
painful lie. I decide on the truth. At least there’s nobility in that. “I’ve never
felt like this,” I confess. “I’ve never kissed anyone the way I kissed you. No
one has ever … touched me like that.”
“Why not?” he asks, his voice only the tiniest bit kinder. “I can’t
believe there aren’t Smooth Skin boys who would tolerate your ugliness in
order to have the queen in their bed. Your king will have power. That’s the
Smooth Skin way, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I say, blushing in spite of myself at his casual mention of my
bed. “And there has been some … interest. Bo kissed me once, more than
once, I guess.” I twine my arms around Gem’s neck, unable to resist the
temptation of his skin. “But he didn’t make me feel anything like this.” I try
to move my lips to Gem’s, but he turns away, and my mouth bounces off
his jaw.
“Why is that? Why do you believe you desire me more than you
desire one of your own kind?”
I swallow. “I …” I’m suddenly sure what he’s after, and just as sure I
don’t want to give him his answer. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me,” he demands. “I want to hear you say it.”
I shake my head.
“Is it because you’re tainted?” he asks, his tone so sharp, I wince.
“Because you’re ugly on the outside and wicked on the inside? That’s why
you’re drawn to a monster?”
I don’t say a word. I don’t have to.
He makes a disgusted sound. “I feel sorry for you, Isra. I really do.”
I draw my arms back to my chest and slide from his lap, feeling dirty
and small and more wrong than ever before.
“You make yourself miserable,” Gem says, “and refuse to let anyone
keep you from it. I’m a fool, but you are … I don’t have a Smooth Skin word
for what you are.”
I cross my arms and fight the urge to cry. “What about you, Gem?
Why do you want me? I thought Smooth Skins sickened you.”
He’s quiet for so long that I don’t think he’s going to answer, but
finally—“I told you, I’m a fool.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He grunts and falls silent again. After listening to the wood pop in the
fire and the wind howl beyond our shelter for what seems like hours, I
decide to consider his unwillingness to answer a small victory. Ignoring the
tears still pressing against the backs of my eyes and the filthy feeling I know
no bath could wash away, I lie down and close my eyes. My body needs the
rest, even if sleep seems impossible.
Seems impossible, but obviously it isn’t. I’m halfway there by the
time Gem lies down behind me and tucks one heavy arm around my waist,
- Предыдущая
- 32/73
- Следующая
