I’m supposed to be his distraction, aren’t I? I’m supposed to soothe him, help him move on, help him focusawayfrom the pain. So this is it. And I was going to tell him that anyway, wasn’t I? I was going to tell him I was his before we got interrupted. So this is it. I’m his. I’ll find a way not to screw this up. I’ll find a way to keep Snow and her—my—new family away from this. I’ll find a way to keep theworld,the stupid fucking mediaaway from this as well. Because it has nothing to do with them. It has nothing to do with anyone but him. For him I’ll keep a hundred secrets and die under the burden of them. Because he deserves that. He deserves someone who loves him like that.
The Wrecking Thorn. My toxic assholestepbrother.
Who’s soeasyto love. Who’s so easy to get lost in, so easy to get ruined for. How can I not when every inch of his soul, every muscle of his heart ismadeof love?Heis made of love. Love and loyalty and sacrifice for his family. He’s been sacrificing himself, his emotions, his feelings. He’s been denying them, burying them like dead bodies. He’s been shrinking himself, so his familyhas the space to grow. To flourish. While he’s withering away without them.
That’shis truth.
I wanted to see his truth, didn’t I? I wanted to see inside of him, and while I’ve gotten glimpses in the past, I never got the full picture, the full depths of him. This is it.
I go to move away from him and thankfully, he lets me. What I see on his face makes me flinch though. All the lines, the angles standing in stark relief. The hollows of his cheeks are deeper, the peaks higher. His eyes are harsh but somehow still lost. Full of fire that will burn down the world, but somehow still bruised themselves.
He looks vulnerable.
Naked and exposed. Like bare heart and stripped nerve endings. And God, I love him. I love him so fucking much that I’m dying with it. That I’m a wreck for his love. I’m a wreck for him.
Framing his face, I whisper, “Kiss me.”
His nostrils flare, his chest convulsing again. Not that it stopped, but still. This one is bigger, this tremor, as he whispers back, “Kiss you.”
“Yes.”
When all he does is stare at me, I dig my thumb into his cheeks and say, “Before those guys interrupted us, that’s what I was coming to tell you. I was coming to tell you that I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about lying or secrets or a fresh start. I don’t care about anything. I don’t know why I ever did. Because none of that matters. Nothing matters but you. I can’t stay away from you. It’s too painful. I can’t watch you be in pain. Alone, angry, standing away from everyone. Away from your twin brother.” He stiffens but I keep going, “I know you miss him. Iknow. But you can’t be around him. I know that too. Which is why he never shows up at the house. So yeah, I don’tcare. And I don’t even care”—I press my forehead against his—“if it was all a game to you that night. If all you felt was your need for revenge, while I loved every single thing you did to me. All I want you is to come home. Come to me. Kiss me.”
“You loved it,” he says, his voice low.
“What?”
His chest moves again, but this time it’s more from a large breath than from the tremors of his emotions. And then he widens his stance and flexes his grip, his arm around my waist and his fist in my hair. It’s as if that breath was him coming back to life, him building up his defenses and shutting everything and everyone out. It’s okay though. It’s fine. He can’t hide himself from me anymore. I’ve seen him, all of him, so I won’t let him. But that’s for later. For now, I’m going to fucking be his, even if it kills me.
He pulls my head back and rasps, his eyes all dark and dangerous now, “You loved it. What I did to you.” I nod without shame, without any reservations. “All those things, mean and degrading. Things meant to wreck you to pieces.”
I lick my lips, and he pulls at my hair harder. “I felt like… I felt like I wasn’t really mine in that moment. I felt like I was yours. My body, my heart, my soul. My will. And it felt like you’d keep them safe. All my organs, all the pieces that make me. You’ll keep the fabric of my soul safe.”
By the time I finish, his jaw is pulsing. There’s a flash in his eyes, bright and full of unknown things. Things that should give me pause, should make me shiver. They do make me shiver, but they don’t make me want to pause. They make me want to jump headlong into the unknown.
“You shouldn’t have told me that,” he says, his fingers flexing.
My heart pounds. “Why n-not?”
He licks his lips and says gruffly, “Because I’m hungry.”
“What?”
“And I wanna eat.” My thighs flex at his low, intense tone. “I wanna eat and eat andfucking eateverything you gave me. That night.” My eyes go wide and my mouth parts, but he keeps going, “It means that I wanna eat your tears. I wanna eat your whimpers. I wanna eat the way you light up for me when I call you my whore, the way you moan when I squeeze your throat a little too tight. I wanna eat your shame and your lust, your desire for me, your desperation. It means, baby, that I wanna eatyou. Because I might have wanted it to just be about revenge, I might have wanted it to just be about hurting you the way you hurt me, but it wasn’t. The moment I walked in the door and saw you across the room, everything became about you.”
I blink. “Me?”
“Yeah,” he rumbles. “So I wantyouto know I won’t turn you away. I won’t tell you this is a bad fucking idea. Because if given the chance, I’ll eat you up. I’ll eat all of you until there’s nothing left. Until you’re lying on the ground, your heart bleeding out and dying. Untilevery part of youis ruined and wrecked. Do you understand? So don’t ask me to kiss you if you aren’t ready for that.”
I stare at him for a few moments, noticing every line of his face, committing it to memory, the way he looks right now, on the edge, at the tipping point, before inching closer. Closer and closer until our lips are grazing against each other and I whisper, “I’ve been ready for years.”
And then, closing my eyes, I put my mouth on him and jump to my death.
Chapter Twenty-Two
There’sa thing about kissing someone you’ve loved for years that they don’t tell you.
They don’t describe it in books or show it in movies. They don’t talk about it in school hallways. Or maybe they do, but I never knew it. Or maybe I knew it, but I don’t remember it in this moment, and so you don’t realize that when you kiss someone that you’ve wanted to kiss for ages, you never stop.
