Page 64 of Goldflame
“I don’t give a shit. That guy has been on me like a vulture all night. Give me some fucking peace.” I walk away from her to the bar.
As I’m fixing a drink, the whispers grow louder than ever before—a storm gathering on every side—and above it all echoes Aurelia’s name.
I swallow more numbing liquid then open the security app, bringing up the camera feed for Adrian’s room.
There she is. Her head thrown back as she laughs. She moves with a manic energy, pacing the room. Even in silence, her mouth forms my name over and over again. Chanting it like a curse.
I did this to her.
The realization hits hard, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
But doesn’t the backstabbing bitch deserve it?
Maybe I should kill her as my mother suggests.
Or… I think I know something else I can do. Something to help tame my murderous captive.
As I pocket my phone, I catch Lorenzo glancing at me from a corner, and it’s the first time I’m happy to see the bastard.
Julian.
I still taste him on my lips. His mouth was always hungry, devouring me like I was oxygen. His hands—God, those hands with their tattooed knuckles—they knew every secret place on my body. When we were younger, those hands would brush mine in the hallways at school, leaving electricity in their wake. He was always forbidden, always Adrian’s brother, always the dark flame I knew would consume me if I got too close.
And yet I got too close.
Julian.
The line between love and hatred is so thin and breakable. I’ve carved his name into my flesh, reopening the wound each time it threatens to heal. I dream of his eyes, how they once looked at me with desire. Now they’re cold, a predator’s eyes. I want to claw them out. I want to make him look at me again the way he used to.
How sick is it that I’d rather have his rage than his absence? That being his enemy is better than being nothing to him at all?
Julian.
I’ve become what my mother feared. A woman defined by a man’s hands around her throat.
The walls are closing in.
His name echoes in the emptiness inside me.
Julian.
Julian.
Julian.
I’m shattering into fragments, and each broken piece reflects his face.
Mother, if you can see me now, I’m sorry.
Your chains have become mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AURELIA
The weight around my waist pulls me from the edges of sleep.
For a blissful moment, I forget everything. The prison. The humiliation. There’s only this cocoon of heat, strong arms holding me close, the steady rhythm of breath against my neck.
