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Placing the head of my cock against her entrance, I keep stroking, not applying any pressure but letting myself feel how wet she’s getting. When she starts to stir, I ease my way inside her. As soon as her eyes drift open, I thrust the rest of the way in,covering her mouth with my hand to muffle her scream. Not that anyone could hear her anyway.
I pull almost all the way out and thrust back inside her. She makes a sobbing noise behind my hand. She doesn’t fight me when the fog clears and she realizes it’s me inside her. The clarity brings anger, but it also sparks her arousal. As angry as she is, her body yields to mine like it always does.
I pick up my pace until I’m slamming into her hard enough for the headboard to smack against the wall. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that’s not punishing her. Every time I tell myself to calm down, I picture that fucker’s hand on her back, and all reason goes out the window.
Knowing I can’t hold back much longer, I snake my hand between us and strum her clit until she’s screaming into my palm for a different reason. She squeezes me so hard I feel my eyes cross. Yanking my cock from her slick heat, I shoot streams of cum over her chest, stomach, and pussy before removing my hand from her mouth.
I drag two fingers through the cum on her chest and paint her lips before doing the same with each of her nipples. I rub the rest into the skin of her stomach and inner thighs, stoking over her pussy until she’s squirming. Not a word is spoken between us, almost like shattering the silence will break the spell we’re both under.
She lets out a broken sigh, and a lone tear slips down her cheek. I press a kiss on her forehead and climb off the bed. I don’t offer her words of comfort. Nothing I say now will fix or change anything. We’re caught in a time loop. I hold all our memories, making her feel at a disadvantage. She has no way of knowing she was always the one with all the power. How else could she explain the things I do for her?
I start putting my clothes back on, my eyes never leaving hers as she watches me. She doesn’t move to cover herself. She doesnothing. She just watches me with a wariness that makes me want to rage at her. I don’t, though. I finish getting dressed and walk around to the nightstand. I pick up the photo and place it in her hand, holding on until her fingers close around it.
“I’m flying out to the East Coast. I’ll have my phone if you need me.”
“We need to talk, Valen.” She finally speaks, hurt and confusion in her voice.
“Right now, I’m too pissed to hear anything you have to say, and you’re too angry to listen to why I did what I had to do.”
“What you had to do? What did you do exactly?” she whispers, fear bleeding into her words as I reach over to turn on the lamp on the nightstand.
I stand up, grab my bag, and head toward the door, stopping only once to look back at her. “I fell in love with a ghost, and she’s haunted me every day since.”
I leave the room and head downstairs, slipping my shoes on and grabbing my jacket from the hook. I know the exact second she looks at the photo because I can hear her cry of shock as I open the door.
If she had questions before, she’ll have a million more now. Questions I can’t give her the answers to. Besides, what can I possibly say when the photo in her hand speaks for itself? It’s a group shot taken by one of the parents. A photo of a handful of us taken outside Briarwood House, the name above the door clear in the background.
To the left, I stand with a face like thunder and a chip on my shoulder. But it’s not the photo of me, per se, that will have shocked her. Or the people standing next to me, some of whom went on to become extremely rich and famous in their own right.
No, it will be the lone figure to the far right that stands apart from the group. The haunted expression on her face will cut into Rue like a knife through butter. She’ll have recognized the girl asher sister right around the time she realizes everything I told her was a lie.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rue
Itossed and turned all night after Valen left, my heart feeling like he stomped it into dust.
My sister.
He’d lied about knowing her. He’d done more than known her. He’d been in love with her. After seeing my mirror image staring back at me, I realized why he’s with me.
If he couldn’t have the girl he loved, then her twin would make a good consolation prize.
I should have run then and there, but part of me hoped he’d come back and tell me I was wrong, that it was all just a fucked-up dream. But now, as I bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding as images flash in my head, I realize he might not be coming back. But everything else is.
I scream as my head is suddenly full of not visions but memories. Everything I thought I’d lost comes pouring back. I hold my head and sob as the pain makes my brain feel like it’s going to explode, and tears stream down my face. My visionswims as I manage to drag myself from the bed and crawl to the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up. Of course, that makes the pain worse, and before I can think about calling for help, I pass out.
I’m still on the bathroom floor when I come to. The pain in my head has dulled to a deep throb, but my mouth hurts, and I can taste blood. With a groan, I reach up and grab the edge of the tub to help myself up, flushing the toilet as I do. Stumbling to the mirror, I stick out my tongue. I must have bitten it when I passed out.
I gently brush my teeth as I take in my reflection, not surprised that I look as shitty as I did in the hospital. My skin is so pale it’s almost translucent, and my eyes look dead. I stagger into the bedroom and hurry into the closet, grabbing the first thing I find—a long navy blue jersey dress. Not bothering with a bra or underwear, I pull it on over my head and slide it down my body. I shove my feet in a pair of white Converse, grab my denim jacket off the hanger, and tug it on before looking around.
I have next to nothing here. A few outfits, a bit of makeup, and some hair stuff. But there’s nothing important and nothing that I can’t replace. Walking back into the bedroom, I grab my cell phone from the bedside table and my bag from the chair in the corner. I make sure it has my keys in it before I hurry downstairs.
Thankfully, it’s still early, and nobody is around. I head to the door, punching in the alarm code and waiting for it to beep before I yank the door open and slip outside. I hurry down the path, trying to look inconspicuous because I know there are cameras everywhere. It’s hard, though, when all I want to do is run as far and as fast as I can.
Once I reach the gates, I type in the code carefully, not wanting to trigger the alarm, and wait impatiently for the gate to open. As soon as it starts to move, I slip through and run. I don’tstop until my lungs burn and I can’t breathe, ignoring the tears streaming down my cheeks. I pull out my phone and dial the one person I know will come get me.
“Rue?”
