14. Thalia #2
My eyes widen as I glance at his appendage like it’s a snake. Which, honestly, is ridiculous. Hands are normal. People hold them every day. Society practically runs on handshakes. But Reed Bellamy’s hand looks unfairly capable of ruining my entire nervous system.
I’m sweating.
“What?” he asks, laughter flickering in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you can’t dance.”
“I can dance,” I say quickly, my whole heart slamming against my ribs as he coaches me up.
“Thank God,” he responds with relief. “That makes one of us.”
I yank on his arm, forcing him to look at me. “You can’t dance?”
“Not at all.”
On top of being unbelievably nervous and sweaty, now I have to fight the urge to burst out into hysterics. “Wait! You’re going to embarrass yourself out there.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Baby, I’ve already embarrassed myself countless times in front of you. Let this one be voluntary.”
My heart? It’s thundering now. There’s a fluttering in my stomach that I can’t even fight. Reed makes me feel…alive.
Something shifts inside me then—quiet and catastrophic.
Maybe it’s the same brand of insanity that’s always lived beneath my skin, the thing Atlas and I used to feed with bloody hands and sharp teeth.
Maybe I’ve always been this way—someone born loving too hard, too violently, until affection curdles into fixation.
Whatever it is, it tightens around my ribs when I look at Reed, and suddenly this moment doesn’t feel small anymore.
It feels fatal.
The bar disappears into meaningless noise while he smiles at me, oblivious to the fact that something feral is unfolding behind my eyes. He’s still unknowingly dragging an apex predator onto the dance floor, still warm beneath my fingertips, and all I can think is mine.
Not in the sweet way girls in love mean it, but in the dangerous way that rots from the inside out.
Because I realize, with a cold rush of clarity, that I could become addicted to this man frighteningly fast. To the sound of his laughter, the lazy half-smirk he wears like sin itself, and the way he looks at me like I’m something worth discovering instead of surviving.
It feels less like falling and more like an infection—a sickening, feverish mass that continues to spread with every passing day.
And the worst part?
I don’t want it cured.
I want it to consume me completely.
A horrifying thought crawls through me then. If Reed ever left, I think I would burn the world down.
The realization should scare me. Instead, it thrills me enough to make my pulse stutter.
God.
I’m obsessed.
So much for keeping things casual. He has no idea, but I’m not letting him go. If he tries to escape, I’ll have so much fun locking him away in my basement. I’ll keep him watered, fed, and fucked so good he can barely remember his name.
My little pet.
He successfully gets me to the center of the floor, burying us among other couples who are drunkenly swaying to the song overhead. As he turns to face me fully, my stomach clenches at the sight of him. Every curve and dip. It’s like I can’t get enough.
He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me flush with him and causing my smile to curl further as I wrap my arms around his neck and we begin to sway. The heat between us is almost suffocating as we get lost in each other, and he’s utterly unaware of just how insane I am.
Because all I can think about is drugging him and dragging him back to my shed to experiment on him. Maybe cut him up a little bit and taste his blood, or use it as lube before I fingerfuck myself in front of him.
Decisions. Decisions.
“How am I doing?” he asks quietly before spinning me in a messy circle that nearly sends us crashing into another couple.
I laugh despite myself, stumbling back into him. “Ten out of ten. No notes.”
“That confident, huh?” he smirks.
“You only stepped on one person.”
“One and a half.”
The poor guy he clipped shoots him a glare while Reed flashes an apologetic smile so charming it should honestly be illegal. I watch the interaction with narrowed eyes.
Mine.
Mine, mine, mine.
Reed winces dramatically before looking back at me. “I’m trying to seduce you here, Thalia.”
“You’re doing terribly.” I giggle.
“Devastating news,” his hand squeezes my waist tighter anyway, fingers spreading against my back possessively enough to make my heartbeat stumble. He dips his head closer until his mouth brushes near my ear. “You’re smiling, though.”
Because every second you touch me makes something feral pace circles inside my ribcage.
Out loud, I only hum thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m easily entertained.”
“By public humiliation?” He asks.
“By you.”
That catches him off guard for half a second. It’s barely noticeable, but I see it. Reed recovers quickly, grinning as he nudges his thigh between mine in time with the music. Heat curls viciously through my stomach.
He’s flirting.
I’m fantasizing about carving his skin with hearts like a teenager doodles her crush’s name in a notebook.
Different love languages.
“You’re perfect,” I purr. The double meaning nearly chokes me alive.
Reed snorts immediately. “I would hardly call this perfect.” Right as he says it, he missteps again and nearly eats shit on the slick wooden floor. I burst into laughter loud enough that nearby people glance over, and he catches himself by grabbing my hips.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “That was almost incredibly embarrassing.”
“A fall like that could be fatal to an old man like myself,” he muses before brushing my hair behind my ear and slowing us to a gentle sway. “At least the last thing I saw would have been you.”
The line is stupid. So stupid. And yet my heart twists around it like barbed wire, clawing desperately to remember every damn word and burn it into my psyche.
I snake my hands behind his neck, interlocking my fingers as I push up on my toes and nip at his bottom lip. His eyes flutter at my administrations, and I love the way his body goes pliant against mine. As if he knows he belongs here in my arms.
“Reed,” I whisper between us, my eyelids lowering as something dark curls around me.
He inhales, the sound so abrupt it makes my spine shiver. “Yes, Little Devil?”
Awareness zips down my spine. That sixth sense I’ve developed over the years blares an alarm, almost shattering our moment as I catch sight of unidentified newcomers lingering around the opposite end of the bar.
They’re big, ugly, and if the sleek guns tucked in their waistbands are anything to go by, they aren’t here to enjoy the football game at the bar.
No, I think Brooks has finally caught up to me.
Just when I was about to steal my doctor away until his friends hung missing person posters…