A tear slips free, and Malcolm watches it before he leans in. Soft as a butterfly’s wingbeat, he kisses it from my skin. His hum vibrates against my flesh as he murmurs, “This wasn’t on purpose, dove. I’m sorry. You okay?”
Throat tight, I say, “I’m okay.”
“Are they happy tears, then?” His palm slips from my face to rest at my throat.
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me what’s spinning in that precious mind of yours.”
My breath catches on an inhale. “I never imagined I’d ever be loved again after my parents died. I think I forgot how safe it feels to know you aren’t…” I crumple, hugging myself. “…alone.” My nails bite through my gloves, into my arms. “Somewhere along the way, I made being alone safer, but it’s…really nice to have someone I can rely on. Someone who doesn’t expect anything from me. Someone I can trust.”
“Even if that someone is a monster?”
“I might be warming up to the idea of your talons.”
“I promise I’ll dip them in rubbing alcohol before sinking them into you.”
Frail, I smile. “I appreciate that.”
Much too soon, his touch abandons me, and he rises. “Why don’t we just get ready for bed, and see where the night takes us, hm?”
My flesh prickles. “Are you going to attempt to seduce me?”
“Darling.” He peers down his straight nose at me, and his eyes glitter with evil. “Would Ieverdo something so heinous?”
The answer, of course, isyes, he would. So. After he heinously coaxes me close, I fall asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat, and in the morning I once again discover that I have—against all odds—survived.
Chapter Twenty-eight
?
Nothing like a little math to really spice up the romance.
Azalea
“Plus six,” Malcolm says, kissing my chin.
Tense, I say, “Twelve.”
“Is it really, now?” His eyes meet mine.
I fight for a labored breath. “Yes.” I think it’s the anticipation that’s killing me the most. Malcolm is so…calculated. Slow. Precise. He’s touching me with such careful intent, and he leaves an age between every last motion, so I can stop him if I need to.
I haven’t yet.
Mentally, I’m struggling, in multiple ways. There’s a part of me thatwantsthis. Desperately. And then there’s a part of me that’s terrified.
What if I like it, but something terrible happens because I’m not allowed to like things?
What if I don’t like it?
What if he’s disappointed that I can’t return the same affection?
What if I don’t get better fast enough?
What if Ineverget better?
What if—
