Breed of Havoc (The Breed Chronicles #3) (48 page)

But not Brennan. His scent was more subtle and sort of ashy or smoky, like from a wood fire. It was nice.

“Thanks,” I said again, for what felt like the umpteenth time. I pulled the sleeve over my arm to try to keep blood from staining his shirt.

His gaze followed the movement. One hand grabbed my arm and the other balled into a fist at his side. His expression darkened, hardened. “Damn.”

The change in his tone and attitude confused me. “What?”

“I should’ve been more careful.” The grip on my arm tightened a fraction.

He was mad because I’d been hurt? He hadn’t done anything wrong, not by a long shot. I’d rather have some scratches and bruises than be broken or dead.

Battered was definitely a compromise I was willing to accept.

I scoffed. “Please. I’ve had worse brushing my hair,” I said, trying to make him laugh. It wasn’t a complete lie, either. I
had
managed to pull a muscle once brushing my hair.

I caught a glimpse of his hand as he ran it through his hair. It was torn up and bloody. “Did
you
get hurt?” I started to reach for his hand to see for myself, but he doubled over and started laughing. I tilted my head to the side. “Did I say something funny?” The crack about brushing my hair could’ve been considered amusing, but it didn’t warrant this deep, rich laugh. Plus, no one usually found my jokes all that funny.

Still bent at the waist, Brennan glanced up at me. “You were almost run over by a car and you’re worried if
I’m
hurt? That’s priceless.” And the round of laughter began again.

I threw—okay, carefully placed—my hands on my hips. “Your hands are torn up.” I pointed at them.

He barely glanced at them before shrugging. “I’ve had worse rescuing other girls.”

I snorted. “Well, as long as it’s a habit and not a one-time deal, then I guess I’m guilt-free.”

He grinned. “Oh, it is. I’ve got nothing better to do on a Sunday night—er, I guess it’s technically Monday, since it’s…” He glanced down at his watch. “Five past midnight. Either way, I usually go out looking for girls to rescue.” He gave a shrug. “Small town and all—we get our kicks where we can.”

I shook my head. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind if I’m ever looking for something to do.” I sighed. “I guess I should head home.”

I felt somewhat foolish just standing on a street corner (which opened me up to so many different jokes) with a guy I didn’t know. And the foolish feeling turned to awkwardness with blood still dripping down my arm and running down my leg.

“Do you live close?” he asked.

“Pretty close. Down on Judge Street.”

“Cool. I’m on Harris. Straight down from here.” He pointed down the street. “Want some company?”

I smiled. “Sure, thanks. I’d like that.”
Especially in case another insane car tries to run me down.

He motioned for me to lead the way, so I started walking—with only a slight limp.

After a minute of silence, he eyed me. “You’re not from around here, are you? I don’t recognize you from school and I think I would have remembered you.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks and I looked away for a moment.
Get a grip—he meant it in a friendly kind of way. He’s not flirting.
“We moved here about six months ago.” I shrugged. “We graduated early—before we moved—since neither of us wanted to enroll in a new school for only a few months.”

“We?”

“Me and my sister—Kailee. My twin, actually.”
The annoying one.
The chattity, yappity one who lived with a phone glued to her head. And the reason my iPod and I were out here in the first place. I’d just wanted an hour of peace, away from the noise and the gossip. How someone could make enough friends
to
gossip with in only a few months was amazing.

“Twin?”

“Yeah. I’m older by six minutes.”

“Six minutes?”

He’d stopped walking, I realized, so I stopped too. “Something wrong?” Even in the dark, I could see some color had drained from his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “That’s just, uh, coincidental. I have a twin. Fraternal.”

“Mine too. Thankfully. Otherwise, I’m sure our mom would’ve dressed us alike and given us similar names. I think since we’re so different and look nothing alike, she couldn’t do that,” I said with a chuckle.

“Yeah. No one believes me and my brother are twins.”

“Same here. Or we get the ‘what’s it like to be a twin’ question. I hate that.”

He nodded. “We get that too. We usually just ask people what it’s like to be a single.”

I laughed. “That’s good. I’ll have to remember that one.”

“I’d understand the question more—almost—if we were identical.”

“It’d still piss me off.” I shrugged. “As soon as I say twin, people assume we’re identical, and then they ask how often we switch, you know? That annoys me to absolutely no end.”

He nodded his agreement and we started walking again.

This had been a very strange night. I went out to avoid being annoyed and almost got run over by a car instead. I’d definitely had better nights. Of course, it could have been a lot worse. Instead of
almost
being run over, I could have been run over. Brennan could have been calling for an ambulance instead of walking me home.

“The car didn’t stop.” I blurted it out and stopped walking. Frowning, I shot him a look. “Would it sound really paranoid if I said the car actually sped up instead of slowing down?”

I’d seen it parked down the block before I’d ever started to cross the road. Still, the question seemed stupid and I’d almost decided against asking. And if it
was
a stupid question, then I could blame it on a concussion or something (not that I knew I had one, but whatever—I could and would claim it).

His jaw clenched and he glanced down the street. After a second, his eyes, slightly narrowed, met mine. “You aren’t paranoid,” he said darkly.