Free The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) by Dela Page A

eyebrow. “Wait, you don’t like tattoos, doyou?”
    She acted like I was a threat. She looked to the front of the classroom, lifted her chin bravely, and swallowed. “I’ve never been afan.”
    My hollowed stomach filled with amusement, and I couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth down. She was a horrible liar. I leaned on the armrest and turned toward her. “And your parents, they taught youthis?”
    Her short-lived defiance wavered as I gazed at her. She looked away. I suspected it was to hide a blush. “Sort of. Faith, Iguess.”
    “You have good parents.”
    Abruptly, she shot back, “Why are you here?” There was fire in hereyes.
    I raised my eyebrows, pointed to the professor walking in, and stated, “Um, school.”
    “What are you studying?” she demanded. Her sassiness excitedme.
    “Generals rightnow.”
    I expected her to say something smart after that, but she let off and just watched me. I let her as I pretended to be a good student and opened my notebook.
    “Where did you move from?” she suddenlyasked.
    “A little town near Cancun, Mexico.”
    “Why would you want to move here?” she said. Now she soundedsnobby.
    I squinted at her, feeling the low smolder of irony as I held back a laugh. “It’s complicated.”
    “Do you live in thedorms?”
    I nodded. I saw her shiver as she leaned away fromme.
    “So, what part of town did you move to?” sheasked.
    “We just bought a house off Fallen LeafLake.”
    “We?”
    “My parents are retired and moved here, and my sister goes to college heretoo.”
    “I thought the government owned a lot of the land aroundthere.”
    “They do. It’s complicated,” I repeated, annoyed this time. I had been out of touch with girls for so long I couldn’t remember if all girls were thisnosy.
    This girl’s hands were shaking when she looked back up through her lashes. “Look, Lucas—for what it’s worth—thankyou.”
    “Forwhat?”
    “For saving my life,” she whispered.
    What little breath my body held was sucked out, and I stiffened. How does she remember?
    Zara took notice and glanced around us. Then she scooted in closer and whispered, “Why do you keep denying it? I saw you. I know you were there, and I know you saw something else that nighttoo.”
    Her memory unraveled my calculated thoughts, and my vision dimmed. How could this be? Eventually, I narrowed my eyes and leaned in close enough to let her scent drive me crazy. I was careful not to get too close. I wanted to, but it squeezed that physical trigger, wanting to seize control as it had before I was immortal. “How do you remember somuch?”
    She blinked slowly. “What do youmean?”
    I didn’t have time to answer her as Professor Tanner began her lecture. So I returned my unwelcome attention to Zara, who was now messing with her hair to create a shield from my glare. I didn’t mind because I loved her hair. I could tell when she’d just washed it from the way her shampoo’s extracts flowed in the air. Today it smelled like eucalyptus and orange tea, a nice change from her usual strawberryscent.
    I expected Zara to look back up—humans are curious creatures, drawn to us by nature—but was pleasantly surprised when she held her ground for a solid ten minutes. When she cracked moments later and tried to sneak an inconspicuous glance, I grinned. She responded with an even more peculiar stare, curious about my amusement but slightly upset, then looked away, shaking herhead.
    A little while later, her expression shifted to a soft pout, probably annoyance with the awkwardness between us. I chuckled. It reminded me of my sister’s attitude and drama. Women. Zara scowled at me for laughing before turning back to the professor, continuing her silent game, but I thrived on this reaction.
    In the middle of class, the professor assigned us a two-page report and presentation with a partner on the archaeology or civilization of either the Aztecs or Mayans. Suddenly Zara was willing to talk. I