Page 81 of Bone Year

He narrows his eyes. He’s not used to people calling him out on his shit.

“Careful, Rose.” He tsks. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s not the cold.”

I press the blade harder against his throat, not enough to cut but enough to make a point.

“Now look who’s pinned against a wall,” I say.

He leers at me. “I don’t hate this view.”

“You should. I could slit your throat right now.”

“Could you?”

He’s testing me, watching to see what I’ll do.

“You freeze over dead bodies.” His head tilts slightly, eyes never leaving mine. “You really expect me to believe you’d cut a living person?”

“You’re not a person. You’re a vampire.”

“Same thing.”

“Is it?”

The snow falls around us, soft and relentless. I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. I can feel the heat radiating off his body. His eyes drop to my mouth for a fraction of a second before snapping back up.

“You’ve got fire, Freckles.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate you.”

“You think your hatred wounds me, Rose? I’ve been hated by people who actually matter.”

“Ouch,” I say sarcastically, but it does kind of hurt me in a way I don’t expect.

“You’re still not moving.”

He’s right. I should probably step back, lower the blade and walk away.

“What were you doing with the headmaster?” I ask before I can stop myself.

His expression shutters. That flicker of something human disappearing behind the mask.

“Forget what you heard.”

“I can’t.”

“Try harder.”

“Tell me what deal you made with him.”

“No.”