Chapter IX

"It's just in the way she looks at you. I mean, come on."

This statement brought me up short, one hand still holding the tent flap open. I had no right to be eavesdropping on this, but somehow I couldn't pull myself away- maybe it was because there was only one she that Deveraux could be talking about.

"Just drop it, Deveraux." Scabior's voice was wary, with a note of irritation in his tone.

"'Just drop it'? Are you honestly just going to blow this off?"

"I said let it go!"

"No way. I see the way you look at her, Scabior, and I'm sure you see the way she looks at you."

There was a thud, and Deveraux swore loudly. "The fuck, man! Ow!"

I had just returned from hunting; it was the night after we'd dragged in Ollivander, and a paper-fine layer of snow had powdered the ground. I'd walked in from the bitter cold to Deveraux and Scabior's conversation, and when I'd realized it was me they were talking about, remained glued to the spot, knelt down on one knee, my hands frozen on the laces of my boot.

"I don't look at her!" hissed Scabior indignantly.

"Yes you do. You watch her sometimes. Even Peakes's noticed, and usually Peakes wouldn't notice if someone hit him in the face with a sledgehammer."

Scabior sighed. "You two gossip like teenage girls."

"That's beside the point. You can't push something like this aside."

"She doesn't care about me. She's a bloodsucker. She's got better things to do."

Inbetween the confusion and welling nervousness, there were the vague stirrings of hurt at the sudden sharpness of Scabior's voice. Bloodsucker.

"She's not a bloodsucker. That's not very nice." Deveraux scolded, as if he could read my mind.

"Whatever. She doesn't care about shit."

"Yes, she does. What is your problem?" Deveraux sounded angry now.

"My problem is that you're pestering me. If I want her to know, I'll tell her. I forbid you to say a word to her, Jacob Deveraux."

"You had better tell her. You won't let this ruin your life."

"Fuck off. This is my life, not yours."

I made myself visible from the shadows, doing so as noisily as possible. Scabior stood up, whirling around to look at me. Those cold eyes met mine, and I couldn't find it in me to look away.

Deveraux smirked, lounging on the couch, and he nudged Scabior's leg with his foot.

"Hey." he drawled, cocking his head to the side so a few strands of dark hair fell over his eyes.

"Hi," I said hesitantly, throwing my coat onto the floor beside my shoes. I sat on the couch by Deveraux's feet, picking up my much-abused copy of Romeo and Juliet. I hadn't been all too interested in Shakespeare, but Romeo and Juliet had a certain appeal to me. It might have been the conflict between the Capulets and the Montagues, or maybe how Romeo and Juliet had met each other so suddenly, and then would have died for each other within a day of meeting each other...love like that was impossible in the real world. It didn't work like that. Maybe it was the make-believe that drew me in.

Scabior grabbed his wand from the arm of the couch, right beside me; his fingers brushed my arm as he took it, and there was another shock straight through my body, strongest at the point where our skin met. I forced my eyes to remain on my book, forced myself not to look up at him.

What did Scabior see when he looked at me, anyway? Did he see what I saw every time I looked in the mirror- long, messy dark red hair, pale skin, disturbing crimson eyes? Was it possible that he saw more than that.

I could pretend I didn't understand what Deveraux and Scabior had been talking about, but I was in too deep to do that. Because I knew exactly what they had been talking about.

. I see the way you look at her, Scabior, and I'm sure you see the way she looks at you.

Well, fine. If Scabior had something to say to me, he could tell me. He was a man. He had the balls to tell a woman something. Let him blur our weird relationship even more.

I slammed the book shut. I couldn't read, not with my thoughts a sticky, jumbled mess like this. I curled my feet to my chest, frowning at the floor.

Did Scabior really feel something for me? I had never considered love before. It was kind of silly to me, just those disgusting little carnation hearts and roses and that mushy crap.

But love, love in a realistic sense, was something I had never thought of before. I had never thought anyone could love me. Who would love a vampire, anyway?

The thought stirred a strange, unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was warm, almost bubbling, like I'd downed a whole gallon of butterbeer.

Could Scabior- dark, sarcastic Scabior- love me, ridiculous as that was?

Did I love him?

Oh, this was confusing. No wonder half the world didn't bother with this shit.

A/N:

:D thank you all so much for the reviews! i love you all!

I could get into a very detailed description of Akaisha, but since that's terribly boring, I'm just going to give you her actress: Ariana Grande.

I suck at ending chapters.