Heirs of War Read Free

the cool metal. "I am still an asshat, but I'm an asshat who happens to be friends with the guy you're dating. For some reason unbeknownst to me, he likes you."
    "Unbeknownst to you," she repeated as she rubbed at her forehead. "Because you never actually cared about me, right?" She started digging around in her book bag for her notebook, her hair covering her face.
    "Call it temporary insanity."
    She whipped around to face him. "What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much? Because there used to be a time when you called me your best friend, so it can't be that I'm a terrible person. Or do I embarrass you now? Don't want the poor girl from the wrong side of town hanging around now that you're friends with the cool kids?"
    He snapped to attention at the sight of her face, shoving off the locker and straightening. "What happened?"
    She took an abrupt step back as he leaned closer. "What do you mean, what happened? You're the one who told everyone I was easy! Why don't you tell me what the hell happened, Kyle?"
    He shook his head, placing an urgent hand on her arm as he stepped closer again. "Your eye. Who did this to you?"
    Her face fell at the mention of the purple ring on her face. "Who do you think? I was completely wasted, and you dropped me on the doorstep. Did you honestly think I wouldn't pay for it?"
    He scanned the empty hallway over the top of her head, then grabbed her hand and led her into the art room across from them. Clearly ignoring her protests, he positioned her in front of the window for light and began examining her eye again. "So you remember me taking you home?"
    "I remember enough," she huffed though she was still being compliant to his examination. Part of her wanted to jerk away from his touch, but the bigger part just wanted to relish in it. For the first time in months, he was acting like he cared. And though she would definitely hate herself for it in the morning—or maybe even five minutes from now—she was melting at his touch.
    "How much is enough?"
    "Why?” she asked, her dark eyes accusatory. “What did you do?"
    He pulled her closer with distinct impatience at her question and started running his fingers over her skull to check for bumps. "I didn't do anything but take your drunken ass home. I could have left you lying there."
    Zelene scratched her head, wincing as she touched a sore spot. "I just had one drink. I don't know how I got so bad off."
    "Did you ice this?"
    "Yes."
    "Switch to heat after the first forty-eight hours?" Satisfied with the nod she gave in response, Kyle continued by brushing her hair behind her back after spying a few bruises on her neck. "She really went to town on you this time."
    "Well, according to her she wanted to teach me a lesson. Drinking underage is bad," she said sardonically. Like a woman who used teenagers as punching bags had any right to talk. "She thought I drove home, too, which didn't help. So thanks, but maybe you should have left me there."
    He lean ed back with a challenging stare. "Because I’m sure you’d be thanking me if you were covered in ant bites right now. Or if someone else had found you and decided taking you home wasn't a fun idea. By the way, for the record, I dropped you off with Miss Lucy. I didn't expect her to walk you next door."
    "Oh, I don't remember that.”
    "Well, maybe you should get your story straight before you go accusing your knight in shining armor of anything so malicious as dropping you off with your abusive foster parents when you were drunk. I might be an asshole, but I still—"
    He stopped himself mid-sentence and she found herself holding her breath as she waited for him to continue. “You still what?”
    "I don't want anyone to get hurt. Is this everything?"
    She simply stared at him for a moment. "My arm, but I'm pretty sure it isn't broken or anything."
    "Let me see." At her hesitation, he tugged on the sleeves of her jacket until they revealed a spaghetti strap tank top underneath. "Where does