Chapter 19 #2
Whiplash is not a strong enough word.
I wet my lips. “No.” It’s barely a whisper.
Liar, Nell echoes sweetly, reminding me why I hate her again. But after what he said….
I want to be the one to twist the knife.
Troy is still looking at me in the low light of the fire. He cocks his head, jaw tightening. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty into it to me.”
“I-I felt sick after.”
Another twist.
I fled to my room with my heart pounding, my lips burning, my body feeling strung up and alive like never before. I did lock the door, but only because I was terrified of what might happen if he barged in, and afraid that if I didn’t lock it, what did that say about me?
But he didn’t.
He never came after me.
Why did I want him to?
There’s a pause as those horrible words I uttered sink in. Then his gaze sharpens like a blade; something menacing and dark crosses his face before he locks it down, and his expression deadpans.
“Eight for wolf who loves to lie,” he quotes one of the more awful lines from the song.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing. It’s a coincidence that Lovett means wolf cub. Right?
After a while, Troy stands and turns to go, but hesitates near the door, and then he looks back.
Approaching slowly and deliberately, he comes to stand over me, his cut-glass green eyes pinning me in place. My gaze is stuck on him, too, even when I should look away.
Annoyingly, my nipples, despite the heat from the fire, have shamefully hardened at the sight of him. And I would go weak at the knees if it were not for the fact that I’m sitting, clutching them. I hate that my body responds this way; my pulse speeding up, my mouth watering, beyond words….
A delicious throb spills low in my belly. And I pull my knees closer to me to try to stop it.
“I see.” His mouth curves down as though it annoys him to see the effect he has on me. “Then I won’t touch you again.”
Such an expected comment from him, but it cuts deep. I give a tight nod, unable to speak, my eyes feeling like they’re about to tear up.
“I needed to make sure. Now I am.”
My chin wobbles before I can stop it as what he’s saying slithers under my skin and stays there. So the kiss, the heat in his eyes, the way his hands felt…it was him making sure of something. I dig my nails into my knees and use the pain to stop the burning behind my eyes from spilling over.
Was he testing me to see if I was a virgin? Did I pass or fail?
But I can’t take a moment and mull it over because he carries on.
“I’m doing this for you, you know. I see now why you had to play along. I get it.” He lets out a sigh. “It took me a while, but I get it now. You were afraid.” His eyes rake over me. “Still are.”
All I can do is blink at him. I don’t understand the meaning of his words.
And yet…
He’s close enough for his cedarwood and clean linen aftershave to invade my senses. The smell of rainwater and ozone is gone, burnt away by common sense and a lick of heat, revealing dark, masculine tones beneath that draw me in.
From his tousled dark blonde hair and too sharp cheekbones, to the shadow of stubble over his angled jaw and those mossy green eyes that a girl could fall into and never come out of, I realize it; everything about him is unfairly attractive.
Of course, anyone would want to kiss him.
Anyone drawn to danger and male pheromones.
The realization hits me like a dash on the rocks that I never had a chance.
So why does it still feel like I’m lying to myself?
All of a sudden, the heat feels blistering, and I need to get out of the room.
“Troy—”
“This isn’t a fairytale, Sage. I’m not the man you think I am, so you need to stop whatever it is you think you’re doing.”
“I’m not—” I look away, eyeing the door.
“I won’t save you if you fall.”
I give an involuntary flinch. “I don’t need you to.” But I barely say it.
“Good.” The word is almost gentle, which makes it ten times worse. When I look back, his gaze has dropped to my hand, to his ring on my finger, glinting in the firelight.
“Don’t ever—” He corrects himself. “Don’t take that off.”
I open my mouth to say something, but then stop, biting my lip. My mind is a mess. For once, Nell has nothing to say either.
“Not until we’re done here. And then you can leave.”
I nod. It’s all I can do.
He exhales, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Look. It’s just a fake marriage. When it’s over, and you know where you want to go, Mundel will take you there. A friend’s house, maybe.”
My mind runs away to turning up at Laine and Jaxon’s glass mansion on the hill in a chopper. Jaxon would have kittens. Laine would love it.
“No rush. Just think about where you’d like to go. There’s a storm coming and a wedding, apparently. After that, we’re done.”
He comes closer, towering over me, momentarily shielding me from the fire’s heat. The instant coolness makes me shiver even though I feel feverish.
“But let me make one thing clear”—his dark green eyes glint like knives in the firelight—“you’re never going back to him.”
Does he mean my father?
I don’t get to ask.
He stalks out, taking his dog with him. The fire stays bright, popping away at me, but now I’m alone, all warmth seems to leach from my bones. I stay facing the hearth, clutching my knees tighter, feeling tired all of a sudden.
I have no clue how to process everything he just said. It’s like he was speaking a foreign language.
What was he making sure of? Why doesn’t he want me to go back to my father?
All the things I know and don’t understand snarl inside my head. Untangling it feels hopeless. I put my head on my knees and squeeze shut my eyes, trying to shove it all out.
I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to be here. You have to do it tonight. Nell reminds me. You know where he sleeps.
As if killing him would fix everything. With what, though? I don’t have a weapon.
Yes, you do. Look around.
My head turns, my eyes drawn to the hot poker beside the fire, still glowing red at the tip. And then the razor I stole, tucked out of sight under the cushions—so many ways to kill him.
I just have to pick one.