Page 1 of Spin the Damn Bottle

CHAPTER ONE

If given the luxury of choice,I recommend a third-degree burn. At least it kills the nerve endings, so the pain is limited in the affected areas. First and second-degree burns aren’t as gracious.Everythinghurts, my hands most of all. The only thing that seems to help is when Jason takes them in his and kisses them.

Then the deafening sting is joined by an itch that makes me want to peel my skin off.

After one week of boredom and suffering, I beg my doctors to let me out, but they're reluctant to do so, even though I'm out of danger and they don't seem to do much. It's only after my uncle pulls some strings and promises to hire a nurse to check on me daily thatthey send home with creams and pain killers.

That's when I set out to let Jason go.

I should have done it earlier. Like my mother, he came to visit me every day at the hospital—all day at first, then I made him go back to school, but he drove back to the city after practice and stayed long past the posted visiting hours.

Every day, I told myself I should end it. Every day, I chickened out. I needed him, and I chose to be selfish for a little while.

I can't put it off any longer, so I tell him I'm done on my release day, an hour before my parents are due to pick me up.

It's over. I could deal with what he’s done to me—his calculated cruelty didn’t break me. I don’t mind his deviance, and I knew all along he wasn’t the vanilla, missionary position type. I mean, I saw him and his friend going at it with a girl in the locker room last year, for Christ’s sake.

And I found it hot.

None of that scares me, but I’d be insane to accept the danger that comes with being part of his life.

"No."

I should have expected that exact answer, but I didn't. "You can't say no,” I shoot back, reasonably. “I just told you I want to…” I can’t even say break up with him. He never asked me out in the first place. I’m not his girlfriend. “I don’t want to spend time with you anymore. It’s my choice.” I’m proud to hear myself sound stern and decisive.

Too badJason Alden has never been one to respect my choices. Too bad I don’t particularly respect this choice either.

He runs his hand over the bandaged, leather skin of my palms, ever so softly, and I wish I didn't love that touch as much as I do. "If you actually meant it, if you didn't want me, I'd consider your opinion," he lies. "But you're just afraid. With good reason. These scars are therebecauseof me. You should want to run."

Jason has always been unfairly perfect compared to me, and that was before burn scars covered fifteen percent of my body. They run along my right side, from my neck down to my hips, and on the hands I used to try to get out of the furnace. My hair had to be cut to my shoulders, and is completely shaved in places. I have an undercut now. My mother turned up with her trusty hairstylist to fix the mess the doctors made in the process of saving my life.

My new style is cute, edgy, maybe even trendy, but I still don't recognize myself in the mirror.

"I won't let you," he tells me softly. "You can fight me as much as you like. You know I quite enjoy when you do. How often does it work out on your favor, though?"

Never.

When I hated his guts and did my best to push back against him, he made my life a living hell at Cross and Roses. It only improved when I started to accept the inevitable: he hasmore power than I ever did or will. As his enemy, I'm less than nothing.When I’m by his side, people leave me alone.

And yet I know what I need to do, forbothof our sakes."Your world and mine don't mix, Jace. Someone's pissed about you and me. The moment you stopped terrorizing me, they killed a cat. A week later, we hung out at your club, and they escalated to arson. I'm not going to take that risk again. Whoever is responsible for the fire was trying tokill me, you get that? It's not a game."

Jason's lips curl up, though his gray eyes remain cold as ice. "Everything is a game, cupcake. They’ve just upped the stakes. They tried to claim your life. Now I'm going to destroy theirs."

I should have known he'd turn this into a challenge. It's personal to him. By attempting to take my life, my mysterious attackers pissed on his territory. Good for him, but I refuse to be a prize in a deadly tug-of-war. "Fine. Get on with your destroying. Just leave me out of it."

His steely gaze sets on me and I recognize his look. I saw it at the start of the school year—after challenging him and his friends for terrorizing Judith by the locker room—and many times since. I'd like to think I'm no longer afraid of it, but I know better than to believe Jason's done hurting me. He’ll never be safe. If our opinions align perfectly, all is well. If they don’t, I’m as likely to suffer his wrath as any of his enemies. We might have reached a truce, but only because he's getting what he wants out of me.

"You're mine, Nadia,” he says slowly, patiently, as though he’s trying to make a very dumb puppy learn something. “Mine. And the entire world will know it. You, first of all."

Seeing the familiar, heated glint flashing through his eyes,I half expect him to take me right there on the hospital bed, heedless of the unlocked doors or the constant coming and goings of nurses and doctors. My parents are due to arrive any minute, but I might just have let him, too, if only to feel him again, one last time. His touch is a weakness I've never understood. When he was my enemy, I couldn't resist it. Now, every caress is addictive.

We've only had sex once, and that was in a public venue, before the eyes of dozens of his friends. When I didn’t even question him, letting him take me, I began to understood how deep his hold on me is. Is there anything I'd say no to, when he has the ability to make me lose all sense?

He does something worse than fucking me. Jason turns on his heels without another word and walks out, leaving me wanting and oh so confused.

It's great, I tell myself. Exactly what I wanted.

Why does his retreat taste like ashes?