Covet (Clann)

look up at him. On Tristan, the height difference was nice, making me feel protected, sheltered. With Dylan, it was the definition of looming. He towered over me, he knew it set me on edge, and he liked it.
    “I guess I should say thanks,” I said, keeping my voice even though it wanted to shake.
    He grinned. “Oh yeah? What for?”
    “My truck’s electrical system is fried.”
    “Aw, that’s too bad. Do you need a ride to school? I could swing by your crypt in the mornings for you.”
    “That won’t be necessary. My dad’s getting me a brand-new car to replace it.” I let the acid drip into my tone now. “Which is why I should thank you. If not for your…help…yesterday, I might still be stuck driving that old truck instead of a sleek, custom new ride soon.”
    Dylan’s smile faded, and mine grew.
    He leaned over me. “Stick around, and your electrical system won’t be the only thing that gets fried around here.”
    Yawning, I pretended to study my nails. “You’ve really got to get a new routine. This one’s beyond boring.”
    His eyes flared then narrowed. “I keep repeating myself because you’re not hearing me. Why can’t you get a clue? Nobody wants you here. Get out of Jacksonville.”
    Spit flew from his mouth and landed on my cheek, and everything inside me wanted to take a step away from him. But I was sick of running and hiding, and I’d trained for months for this moment. So I calmly wiped my cheek, lifted my chin and dared him to make eye contact with me.
    “This is my hometown, Williams. I like it here. I’m not going anywhere.” So what are you going to do about it?
    He stared down at my mouth, and the darkness within him ramped up several notches. But underneath it, the driving emotion was fear. He was…afraid. Of me? I dug deeper into his mind. No, his dad. He was afraid of what his dad would do to him if he couldn’t find a way to push me hard enough.
    But his dad didn’t really want me to leave town. That was Dylan’s wish, and the reasons behind it were too jumbled to make out. His dad wanted…something else. Something bigger. Something too complex for me to understand from the too-brief images and snatches of conversation swirling within Dylan’s mind.
    “What does he really want?” I murmured. As I leaned in close to him, I heard his heart beat faster. “Tell me, Dylan. What does your dad really want?”
    Fear swamped him. “You can read Clann minds now? What did you hear?”
    Before I could react, Dylan’s hand shot out and clamped around my throat, lifting me onto my toes as I gasped for air. He backed me up until I was pressed against the metal railing of the catwalk.
    “Get out of my head!” he shouted, his eyes wild. “Do you hear me? Stay out of my head!”
    But I could barely hear him over the noise of his thoughts, ramped up to full volume apparently by the contact of his skin at my neck.
    In his memory, Dylan screamed, his body on fire from head to toe, as his father stood over him shouting.
    Why haven’t you done what I asked?
    I tried! Dylan said. But they’re too smart. Savannah’s never going to let him break the rules again.
    You will find a way, son, or so help me…
    Anne hissed out a curse at my side. Then there was a loud thunk as a small, tanned fist crossed my field of vision and connected with Dylan’s nose, followed by a crunching sound.
    Shock filled his eyes a split second before the pain registered, driving him to release me. Dropping his books, Dylan bent over with a groan and held his nose with both hands.
    But he wasn’t the only one in pain.
    Anne had turned the other way, hunched over at the waist, cradling her right wrist against her body as she moaned.
    “Anne!” I tried to touch her wrist to see how badly it was hurt.
    “Oh ow! Stop!” she cried out. “Oh God, I think it’s broken.”
    Behind us I heard movement. I looked back. Dylan had straightened up. He held his nose between both of his flattened palms and made a shifting motion. There was another crunching sound that made my stomach roll over as he realigned his nose.
    Then needles of pain jabbed at the back of my neck and arms.
    The trickle of blood beneath his nose stopped, reversed direction then disappeared.
    The stabbing sensation all over my skin stopped, and Dylan sneered.
    “There. It’s good as new already,” he said.
    Anne tried to stand up straight, but the pain kept her hunched over. She glowered at him over her shoulder.
    He laughed.