The Blood we Crave (The Hollow Boys Book 3)

I know now that no matter where I go or what happens, she is always in me. Existing inside the spaces no other human has dared to go. Within the spaces of my ribs, flowing through the veins surrounding my heart.

“I thought it was the one place you wouldn’t come.”

I can’t help the way my eyebrows tug together, the way I scoff out a laugh and shake my head. I take several steps forward, standing in the center of the room.

“You don’t get it, do you?” I say with something like frustration sitting on my tongue. “There is no place where you are that I wouldn’t go.”

I will not leave him. He will not push me away. Not when I can protect him. The Halo will not take him from me. There is no one who can take him from me.

I nod, a smile lifting at the corners of my lips. I release the chair, pushing myself to a standing position before stepping out of the booth. I take my time to button the front of my suit before I encroach into Josh’s space.

My frame dominates his.

Not just in height either.

“Tell me no again,” I bait him.

“I—” he stutters, barely able to look me in the eyes, frantically searching around him for someone to aid him but finding no one willing to keep him out of my path.

“If she wants every chair in this trash diner, she will have it,” I say. “If I want to buy every square inch of land this dump sits on, I will. Just to let my friend burn you alive inside of it.”

knees wobble, standing on my own for only a second, before Thatcher’s slender arm snakes around my waist, his other cupping my legs and sweeping me up from the ground.

In one elegant movement, I’m scooped up into his arms. The chill of his body icing out the thoughts that seem to eat me alive when I’m all but deserted in my mind.

In his arms, I am not alone

“Lyra, we need to get you to the hospital. You don’t want to see this. You don’t want to see him like this.”

“I’m not leaving,” she argues, flinching from his grasp, determined to keep moving farther inside the tent and closer to me.

“Please—”

“Lyra.” I call her name, interrupting my friend. Her soft eyes turn to me, like my voice is the only sound she hears. I crook a finger, teasing in a come-hither motion. “Come.”

Rook removes his hand, shaking his head with a huff as she moves in my direction. I don’t miss the way she limps a bit, still holding her head high, refusing to show her pain.

She wants to prove they did not break her. That they could never break her. Something swells inside of me, and I think it might be pride. Loyalty not only to me, but to herself.

When she is close enough, I reach forward, grasping her chin in my fingers. I tilt her head from side to side, noting every scratch, every slight inconsistency, every bruise.

She should leave, go get checked out not just physically but mentally. What she experienced would hit her hard once the adrenaline faded out. The trauma response to curl within herself would come back with a vengeance and a person can only handle so much before they disappear and never return.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she nods, “and I want to watch. I know you said we were done, but I need to watch. I need to learn, Thatcher, before this thing eats me alive.”

“You didn’t let them see you break,” I mutter, rubbing my thumb across her skin.

I feel her body settle into my touch, melting into my hand. “You
told me not to.”

“You did so good, darling phantom,” I whisper, lifting her head up so she’s looking at me. “Do you want your reward? Would you like me to be your teacher tonight?”

Her jade eyes widen, interest piqued and possibly shocked that I’m agreeing so easily.

“No more textbooks?”

A smirk pulls at my mouth as I shake my head. “No textbooks. Just you being a dedicated little student. I would take a few notes, there might be a quiz.”

This secret little arrangement between the two of us is my greatest struggle and hardest thing to release. It’s hard to admit it out loud, but I enjoy Lyra’s watching. The stalking through the shadows with her eyes focused solely on me. I’m the center of her world, and she is my little voyeur.

Relief settles in her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she mutters, just before turning and walking towards a seat in the front row. I look over at Rook, tossing my head towards her, wanting him to stay close in case anything is to happen.

“You better hope you’re right, Alistair. If anything happens to her,” I grip it in my palm, pulling it out and flipping it absentmindedly over my shoulder towards him, “Not even our friendship can protect you from me.”

me.

“So, it’s over, the deal, all of it?” The steam from the shower billowing in front of my face, the towel still wrapped around my body keeping me warm.

“Yes,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows roughly.

I scoop my clean clothes out of my bag, tucking them into my chest with a little more attitude than necessity.

“Great,” I sneer, turning my back to him as I stride towards the dressing rooms. “I’ll tell Conner you said hello.”

I have no desire to see his reaction or continue this conversation further when he will only continue to break what little connection we have built. All I want is to get dressed and let him wither in jealously at the idea of Conner Godfrey being my shoulder to cry on.

Let him think the worst.

Except I don’t get very far, Thatch’s fingers snatch my elbow, squeezing tightly with all the words he refuses to say out loud. The pain makes me face him; eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as I do.

A storm of violence thunders on his shoulders, a sort of dark look that promises nothing but misery and pain. One I imagine he has when he’s looking into the eyes of someone he is about to slice up or grind into tiny pieces
.

His free hand jerks on my towel, inexpedient and I don’t have time to stop it from sliding off my body. My nipples harden when the cool air traces the sensitive flesh, my mind hating him, but my body thriving beneath his gaze.

“Do not play games with me, Lyra Abbott.” He says in a voice like nightshade. Cloaked in darkness and immoral intentions.

A warning.

His eyes trace the lines of my exposed body, caressing them without even lifting a hand, and my stomach burns with hunger. An involuntary twitch of my thighs is all it takes for a smirk to tilt on his mouth.

Like he’s won something.

“How pathetic,” he hums. “Your pussy aches for my hatred more than it will ever crave another man’s love. Isn’t that sad, darling phantom?”

I’d demanded her not to break in front of all those undeserving eyes, yet there I was, breaking apart in that mausoleum. The restraint I’d crafted had exploded in a matter of seconds at the sound of her empty voice.

“If Conner Godfrey comes near you again, I will feed him his own fucking hands.”