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She had a sudden, solemn look on her face. The white in her eyes had disappeared, leaving them black, a twisted center to them. Blue veins climbed from her chest up her neck.
My pulse sped up, my heart beating like a drum, and a chill shot up my spine.
“I seen your future, son. You've got darkness widin you, a demon dat leeches off your soul.” Rook tensed, going still and stiff.
It was so strange—as if she'd transformed into a different person. A true witch of the south.
“It bleeds de only goodness you’ve got in dere. And if you don’t change, dere will be nothin' left. Is it worth what you will give up?” Shaking her head, she didn’t stop to let Rook answer, “Only you can determine dat.”
She didn't offer more, and Rook and her had a stare off, neither of them moving. Then, as the sun broke away from the clouds, it lit up her face. She blinked, the white again returning to them. She grinned. “What you doin jus standin’ dere? Get outta here.” She made a shooing motion with her hands, “Go on, young loves.” She laughed—a cackling sound—then, turning away, she disappeared back into her shop.
CHAPTER 34
Summer
Rook was quietly contemplative for the remainder of our walk and dinner, except for his demands to add broccoli and sweet potatoes to my grilled chicken. When we returned, the storm clouds of his thoughts shifted—towards me.
He pulled me into the house, his fingers clenched tight in mine, as if he was afraid of letting go. Within seconds of closing the door behind me, he’d pushed me up against it. He thrust his leg between my thighs, his arms on either side of me, boxing me in. His gaze bore into me with a relentless intensity that I couldn't escape.
"Summer, I..." he paused, hesitating. "I need to tell you something."
My stomach began to churn, my chest tightening with fear. Was he going to send me away?
"I have, and always have had, an insatiable appetite,” he began. “And I'm afraid it’ll be too much for you."
I hitched a breath. “I don’t understand.”
A look of agony crossed his face. Then his eyelashes fluttered, shuttering closed. Pressing his forehead to mine, he said, “I was serious when I said I’m obsessed. It’s wrong of me but… but I can’t stop. All day long. Every time I close my eyes, I think of you. If you only knew…” His fingers tickled across my cheeks, caressing them softly, though he still wouldn’t look at me. “I want to infuse myself into your mind. Know your every thought. Every feeling. Want to own every inch of your skin. To kiss every hurt and ache away, like when you were a kid. I want to be your whole world, Summer. To live and breathe Summer Duvall. But I'm afraid it will be too much, that I’m too much. And I need…I need you to promise me something."
There was a knot in my throat I couldn't swallow. "What?"
"Swear to me that you'll tell me. If we do this, if I allow myself to give in…” he finally opened his eyes to stare into mine. “Do you even want it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He nodded, then swallowed. His mint and whiskey breath poured over my skin as he stroked my cheek with his thumb, “Promise you’ll tell me if it's too much. And I will do everything in my power to tone it down. But just… just tell me, okay?"
I somehow knew that I was the one person on this earth who had ever seen this side to Rook.
This vulnerability.
An immense feeling of wonder and gratitude poured over me like liquid, covering me with its warmth. Why me? I couldn't understand it. I was just Summer, a small girl in a big world that wanted to eat me alive.
“Sometimes,” he continued, “I can barely restrain myself. I’m an insatiable animal. Especially when I really want something. So, please," his hand curled around the nape of my neck, placing the palm of his other hand over my heart. I was certain he could feel it pounding. “You have to promise me you’ll let me know if it’s too much. I can’t hurt you."
"Rook," I stood on my tiptoes, softly brushing my lips over his, "You will never be too much for me." And then I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Give me everything you have. I want it all."
A low, throaty sound escaped his throat—the sound of surrender—and then he was kissing me, fingers fisting tight into the back of my hair. Tangling. Clenching. His lips were scorching. My skin was on fire.
“Tell me you want this.”
“I did, already,” I murmured.
“Say it again, bunny. I need to hear it one more time before I descend the path to hell.”
“We can stop if you want,” I snarked, pulling back.
His eyes flashed, his gaze darkening.
