Blade

Chapter 25: Getting along

Sienna

After selecting a few books from the paranormal section of the library, I sink into a cushioned chair, the kind that seems to swallow you whole. Setting the stack on the table, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear before lifting my caramel macchiato iced coffee, the chill of the cup seeping into my fingers as I take a slow sip. The first book that had caught my attention rests in my lap, and I flip it open, eager to lose myself in its pages.

I barely make it to the third line of chapter one when movement interrupts my focus. A familiar girl steps into view, a book clutched in her hand, her warm chocolate-brown eyes flickering between my face and the empty chair across from me.

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly and divert my attention back to the book I was reading.

"What are you reading?" she asks with a playful grin, plopping down onto the chair across from me. Her hands clasp together on the table, the gesture full of restless energy.

"Why are you talking to me?" My lips tug downward into a frown as I finally glance at her. She blinks, confusion flickering in her eyes while her blue-painted nails trace idle patterns against the dark wooden surface. A breeze slips in through the open window, rustling the pages of my book and sending her brown curls tumbling around her face.

I don't mean to come off as rude, but ever since she decided to flirt with Blade, something in me has bristled against her presence. The way she laughed a little too freely at his words, the casual touch of her hand on his shoulder, it all gnaws at me.

That counts as flirting, doesn't it? Or am I just letting my emotions twist the scene into something it's not?

"Is it a crime?" she asks, arching a perfectly shaped brow while a grin spreads across her face. "I just want to know the woman who's going to be Blade's wife."

I shut the book with more force than I meant to and turn my full attention on Camilla. She flashes me another bright smile, and I bite the inside of my cheek. I don't care if I'm exaggerating-what's mine is mine, with or without feelings.

"How do you know that?" My gaze sharpens on her as I lift the now lukewarm iced coffee. I swallow it down, place the cup back on the table, then lick the drop lingering on my lips before leaning back and lacing my fingers together.

She pushes a few brown curls off her forehead with a sigh, and the freckles across her nose appear as she frowns at the chip crumbs scattered on the table. My fault. She brushes them aside, then shoots me a smirk that makes my brows pull together in confusion.

"Don't you know?" She bites down on her lower lip while picking up the books I had set aside. Tilting her head slightly, Camilla narrows her brows as she studies the title.

"Know what?" I resist the urge to snatch the books from her hands and take a long sip of my iced coffee instead.

Propping her elbows on the table, her gaze flicks to my face for only a second before she flips the book open. "Matilde is my mother."

That revelation hits harder than I expect, leaving me blinking in surprise.

"Oh." I hum quietly, dragging a hand down my face as Camilla slides the book across the table toward me. She picks up another, settling into it with a spark of interest shining in her eyes.