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All my confusion where he was concerned. All my like and dislike, despair and want whipped into a cyclone of terror.
The way he held me said I meant nothing.
The way he whispered said I meant everything.
I couldn’t find my centre anymore.
Didn’t trust what was real.
Another crush of exhaustion, followed swiftly by self-pity. I didn’t like my selfishness, but it rose anyway. “If they catch you. If you get taken…I-I won’t have anyone to take care of me.”
His eyes snapped up.
The silvery depths tore right into my soul. He didn’t speak. He merely tightened his fingers around my throat and pressed his forehead to mine.
I exhaled heavily.
I surrendered spectacularly.
And in some brainless, reckless move, I reared up on my tiptoes, pressed myself into his captivity, and kissed him.
I needed tenderness. Craved affection. I wanted an anchor of truth in all these dangerous lies.
My lips sparked with flames.
My tongue stung for his wicked taste.
For a single second, our mouths grazed—
“Fuck.” Exploding backward, his fingers unlocked from my neck. Grimacing, he wiped his lips as if I’d tried to poison him. “Don’t.” Pacing the room, he shuddered, and for a horrifying moment, I feared he’d spit on the floor to get my taste off him. “Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me?”
I blinked.
Another bucket of ice plummeted over me.
So…he could tell me no, but I couldn’t?
He could reject me.
Deny me.
Humiliate me.
Why?
He’d kissed me at the club.
He’d kissed me after he chased me outside the castle.
He’d kissed me in the library after we’d vowed to fight side by side.
Those kisses still bruised my lips with the passion he’d poured down my throat. They’d been the hottest kisses of my life. He’d been inside me twice!
What was a silly little kiss compared to sex?
Why did he act as if I’d just committed treason against him?
He doesn’t want you, you dolt.
