Chapter Forty-Five
Sky
I ’ve been clutching the cloak for dear life, but now it’s a hindrance, pulling me back as I try to rush to Cade. I let it fall and come to his side, putting my hand on his back.
There’s nothing I can say. There are no words. I can’t even cry because of the anger crackling inside of me. This was done to him. He was made into… This.
He wretches, grasping his stomach, as nothing comes out. The tendons in his arms are taut, and I so rarely get to see them that for a moment I’m captured by them—by all the strength he’s built to protect himself. He’s not some sociopath that can’t control his murderous urges. He’s an open wound that’s festered so badly that it’s mutated and is attacking anyone and anything. A hate so great that it is now infecting me.
The injustice… I’ve never even felt such fuming injustice. Not even when I had to let Chase go free. This goes beyond outrage. Beyond vehemence. I’m bloodthirsty. I’m imagining Bentley’s flesh melting off, and wishing I hadn’t stopped it from happening. It makes me so sick to my stomach that I almost want to throw up too. But I can’t. I can’t give in to this. I have to be strong for him.
“It’s okay,” I whisper and rub his back, trying to keep my voice steady. The fabric is too warm though, his skin too hot beneath. He’s burning up because of this, and it only makes me ache more for him.
“It’s not,” he chokes and spins on me, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
The stoicism, maybe the numbness, that he composed himself with during his admission is gone, and the once dried up tears have sprang back into his eyes.
“I laid on that floor for hours. Fucking hours!” his voice has turned hoarse, as if lined with razor blades. “No one helped me. No one checked to make sure I was alive.” He slams his fist into his chest, and I back up despite myself. “They didn’t even alert anyone.” He sobs, and the sound breaks the dam in my eyes. “I was a secret sliding around the underbelly of Hillcrest for hours. Everyone who came into that bathroom either callously skirted around my body or laughed and snapped pictures.”
“I…” I want to say how sorry I am, to say how I wished I was there. But nothing I say can fix the apocalypse that ravaged him, that’s ravaging me now. It’s tearing me apart.
“Those pictures went round and round while I was unconscious,” he continues, head craning to the side in agony as he clenches his fists. “And you want to know what I did when I woke up? When I stepped out into the hallway with their ice cold piss soaking me from head to toe?”
I don’t. I don’t. It’s too much.
“I ran like a fucking coward!” he screams through a sob.
I start to shake, and I try to stop myself from hyperventilating, but the muscles of my heart collapse, giving up in the wake of his pain, his cry scraping me raw. I wish I could take his suffering, even though I know I couldn’t bear it. But I would do anything to ease his torment because it hurts too much to see him like this. I would take deadly Cade over broken Cade in a heartbeat. I would stand quietly at his side as he burned through the entire student body if it meant he’d never cry another tear.
He falls to his knees and fists his hair. “Now, hate me. Hate me so I can die in peace.”
What? I gape in disbelief. “Hate you?” I find my voice and fall beside him. “Why would I hate you?” Even saying the word in relation to him makes me ill.
“I’m disgusting.” He rubs at his arms, at his gorgeous skin that I barely get to see.
He’s a god, a work of dark art. There’s not a thing about him that isn’t captivating. Even now, watching him unravel is like a night storm of lightning and thunder—terrifying, but breathtaking.
“No,” I say. “You’re beautiful.”
“Please,” he scoffs. “Just hate me.”
“I can’t.” I grab his chin and force him to look at me. “I could never.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
He stills, his eyes searching mine, and I suck in a breath. It just came out. The words. The feeling just poured out of me, and I find my cheeks heating in his silence. I shouldn’t have said it. It’s too much. He’s going to laugh at me. I’m so, so stupid. I slowly release my fingers from his chin and look away, desperate to rid myself of the humiliation. I shake my head, push my palms into the dirt, and stand.
But I don’t get far as Cade’s hand clasps around my wrist and pulls me down. The world tilts, and I’m in his arms, his lips on mine. The heat of his body brings me to ash as his hand cradles the back of my neck. He tastes like tears and smells like lighter fluid. He kisses past my cheek and whispers into my ear.
“You love me?” he breathes in hushed reverence.
I shudder at the way he says it, like I’ve made a pact with the devil—like I’ve given my blood on a parchment and sealed my fate.
And I like it.
“Yes,” I say as his hands slip into my hair, slide across my body, and pull me into him as if we could be one.
“Say it.”
“I…” My brain tries and fails to do what he wants. My breath is as gone as his anguish. He’s a whiplash I can’t keep up with.
“Say it,” he growls and wraps my hair around his fist, tugging me back.
His eyes have gone feral, raging. The eyes of a starved wolf, and I’m the prey.
“I love you,” I gulp.
“Mmm.” His muscles roll beneath his skin, like the words themselves are burrowing into him, as if he’s absorbing them, feeding on them.
“I love you,” I say again, heady with the way I can fuel him, willing to give him anything he needs.
I’m quickly laid out in the dirt, leaves tangling in my hair, as Cade rips the nylon costume from my chest. One gust, and my nipples peak, his warm mouth closes over one, and I moan, arching into him. I’m intoxicated, watching his bloody knuckles run down my waist, leaving traces of scarlet. I want him to paint me, claim me, release his anguish inside of me so I can take it away.
I grasp his hand in mine, bring it to my lips, and kiss. The ragged skin of his knuckles seeps into my mouth with a copper tang. I don’t know what I’m thinking, what’s wrong with me, as I gently taste the wound with my tongue. All I know is his pain, and I want to cleanse it away.
The sensation around my breasts stops, and I realize Cade is looking up at me, marveling at my lips. I blush, burn with uncertainty, but I only suffer a second before those devilish teeth appear, a wicked smile glowing in the moonlight.
I lick the smudge of blood from my lip as he twists his wrist. Without a wince, he drags the torn skin down my cheek, coating and branding me in red. The warmth is like nothing I’ve ever felt. It’s damning, thrilling. I don’t even realize I’ve closed my eyes to bask in it until a small swish makes them pop open.
The knife gleams over my chest, sharp and poised to ruin. My heart drums in my ears, my breath petrified in my lungs. But then he brings his hand to the blade, and I gasp he slashes across his palm. Hot droplets of blood drip to my flesh, smattering across my nipples. He squeezes his fist and a deluge pools between my breasts.
I want to be scared. I should be scared, abhorred, screaming even, but it’s so warm. So him . I want to bathe in it. Drown in it. Mix it with mine and feel it pump through my veins. He presses his palm to the river and drags it down my navel, smearing me.
“On your knees,” he growls and stands.
I do as he says and let the scraps of my costume fall down my waist. I’m eye level with his zipper, and the back of my throat aches with something foreign. A pop of his button and a zip later, he’s free and throbbing.
“Open for me, Angel.”