The Host(115)

“I’d like to talk to it alone, if you don’t mind,” Jared said to him.

Ian planted himself. “I do mind.”

“No, Ian, it’s okay. Go get some sleep. I’ll be fine.” I nudged his arm lightly.

Ian scrutinized my face, his expression dubious. “This isn’t some death wish? Sparing the kid?” he demanded.

“No. Jared wouldn’t lie to Jamie about this.”

Jared scowled when I said his name, the sound of it full of confidence.

“Please, Ian,” I pleaded. “I want to talk to him.”

Ian looked at me for a long minute, then turned to scowl at Jared. He barked out each sentence like an order.

“Her name is Wanda, not it. You will not touch her. Any mark you leave on her, I will double on your worthless hide.”

I winced at the threat.

Ian turned abruptly and stalked into the darkness.

It was silent for a moment as we both watched the empty space where he had disappeared. I looked at Jared’s face first, while he still stared after Ian. When he turned to meet my gaze, I dropped my eyes.

“Wow. He’s not kidding, is he?” Jared said.

I treated that as a rhetorical question.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” he asked me, patting the mat be-side him.

I deliberated for a moment, then went to sit against the same wall but close to the hole, putting the length of the mat between us. Melanie didn’t like this; she wanted to be near him, for me to smell his scent and feel the warmth of his body beside me.

I did not want that—and it wasn’t because I was afraid he would hurt me; he didn’t look angry at the moment, only tired and wary. I just didn’t want to be any closer to him. Something in my chest was hurting to have him so near—to have him hating me in such close proximity.

He watched me, his head tilted to the side; I could only meet his gaze fleetingly before I had to look away.

“I’m sorry about last night—about your face. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I stared at my hands, knotted together in a double fist on my lap.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

I nodded, not looking at him.

He grunted. “Thought you said you would talk to me?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t find my voice with the weight of his antagonism in the air between us.

I heard him move. He scooted down the mat until he sat right beside me—the way Melanie had hoped for. Too close—it was hard to think straight, hard to breathe right—but I couldn’t bring myself to scoot away. Oddly, for this was what she’d wanted in the first place, Melanie was suddenly irritated.

What? I asked, startled by the intensity of her emotion.

I don’t like him next to you. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t like the way you want him there. For the first time since we’d abandoned civilization together, I felt waves of hostility emanating from her. I was shocked. That was hardly fair.

“I just have one question,” Jared said, interrupting us.

I met his gaze and then shied away—recoiling both from his hard eyes and from Melanie’s resentment.

“You can probably guess what it is. Jeb and Jamie spent all night jabbering at me.…”

I waited for the question, staring across the dark hall at the rice bag—last night’s pillow. In my peripheral vision, I saw his hand come up, and I cringed into the wall.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again, impatient, and cupped my chin in his rough hand, pulling my face around so I had to look at him.

My heart stuttered when he touched me, and there was suddenly too much moisture in my eyes. I blinked, trying to clear them.

“Wanda.” He said my name slowly—unwillingly, I could tell, though his voice was even and toneless. “Is Melanie still alive—still part of you? Tell me the truth.”

Melanie attacked with the brute strength of a wrecking ball. It was physically painful, like the sudden stab of a migraine headache, where she tried to force her way out.

Stop it! Can’t you see?

It was so obvious in the set of his lips, the tight lines under his eyes. It didn’t matter what I said or what she said.

I’m already a liar to him, I told her. He doesn’t want the truth—he’s just looking for evidence, some way to prove me a liar, a Seeker, to Jeb and Jamie so that he’ll be allowed to kill me.

Melanie refused to answer or believe me; it was a struggle to keep her silent.

Jared watched the sweat bead on my forehead, the strange shiver that shook down my spine, and his eyes narrowed. He held on to my chin, refusing to let me hide my face.

Jared, I love you, she tried to scream. I’m right here.

My lips didn’t quiver, but I was surprised that he couldn’t read the words spelled out plainly in my eyes.