“People will see,” she hisses, her fingers gripping my arm, pupils blown wide in those big brown eyes.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Evie? Everyone watching while I ruin you.”
“No,” she says, but she tilts her hips up.
“Liar,” I whisper, leaning down to taste her lips as my fingers continue their ascent.
She whimpers against my mouth, and my cock goes hard at the needy sound.Fuck, I want her. I want to taste and touch and claim. I want to know she needs me just as badly as I crave her.
My knuckles drag across her underwear, her wetness already soaking the fabric.
“Look how wet you are for me,” I growl, slipping my fingersbeneath to rub teasing strokes along her pussy. “Do you want me here, little fox?” Her breathing is ragged as I circle that small spot that has her legs trembling. “I would get on my knees for you, Evie. Spreading you wide on this bar as I feasted on this sweet little cunt. All you have to do is ask.”
Evie’s cheeks flush, shame washing across her face as she shoves me back. The flash of lights catch on the inside of her forearm and I freeze.
“You’re disgusting,” she spits. It takes a moment, but whatever she sees on my face must terrify her, because she flinches, trying to hide her arm when she realizes what I’m staring at.
“What the fuck are those?” I grab her wrist before she can pull way, twisting gently to expose the thin, raised pink scars.
My stomach twists and I have an overwhelming urge to destroy everything. To pour gasoline over the world, strike a match, and watch it burn because what kind of fucked-up reality makes someone like her—a person who’s met each of my asshole moments with nothing but kindness and her own subtle strength—feel likethisis the only option?
“Nothing,” Evie breathes, face pale even in the club’s dim light. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Don’t lie to me,” I growl, low and lethal, but my grip is gentle as my fingers brush the deepest cut.
“Really,” she says, swallowing. “I’m fine.”
I shoot her a warning glare, then raise her arm and kiss the scarred skin, wishing to the hell that bore me that I could erase her pain with something as simple as a kiss.
“Give your pain to me, little fox.” The dark flecks in her honey-colored eyes burn with tears as I lick along each scar, reverent in my attention. “The darkness and I are well acquainted. I don’t fear it.”
Another slow lap along the blue veins in her wrist. Evie’s chest heaves, body shaking as I lower her hand, but I don’t let go.
I can’t.
I won’t stop touching her. Not when she’s staring up at me like she’s trying to see what’s underneath.
Her gaze drops to my mouth as I lick my lips and it’s like she’s peering beneath my harsh scales, wading through the poison pumping through my veins, and reaching past the armor. Evie is the sharp scrape of vines sprouting in the chambers of my heart, embedding their barbs in my soul—and fuck if I don’t love the prick of thorns.
“Never again,” I breathe, my words nearly swallowed by the pounding music and roar of the crowd. But I keep her here, suspended with me in a world all our own. The pads of my thumbs brush over the places I just kissed, feeling the raised, healing wounds. Evie shivers, her eyes locking on mine. With a deep breath, her chin dips.
15
SILAS
Tempest bids me farewell for the night, pointing out Dominic in case I need help. I smile and wave, pretending I don’t know Silas is watching.
Everything is so fucked. I thought college would be my escape. My chance to get out of the hell my father planned for me. That was my first mistake: believing my life could ever revolve around me. I wasn’t raised to have opinions or emotions or doanythingother than keep my mouth shut until I was handed off to my husband. Then I’d be his to abuse. His to erase.
What’s even worse is that I genuinely thought my mother agreed I deserved autonomy over my own life. But this—pretending to grant me parole only to realize the bars were always in place—is worse than staying locked up. Because I imaginedwhat my life could be. All for them to rip it away.
The joke’s on me.
What’s the point of following the rules when all it earns me is a quicker death sentence? So I tilt my head back, swaying as the club pulses beneath me, feeling more alive than I am. The pads of my fingers graze my exposed thighs, dragging the edges of my black skirt up as I stare into a pair of green eyes.
I know what I’m doing is wrong, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Mark is all over me, but I imagine the rough callouses of Silas’s fingers, the flecks of paint streaked through his hair. The way he touched me. The tattoos covering his knuckles are the same ones that brushed over my pussy in a nightclub where anyone could’ve seen. And I didn’t want him to stop.
Mark leaves but I keep dancing for Silas, imagining his hands on me, loving the way his eyes flare with angry jealousy.
