Page 96 of Bound By Fury

“No! No! You don’t get to shush me! Why are you here? Why are you helping me? To tell me I shouldn’t be here? Maybe you’re in on it, with whatever—whoever that was! You want me gone so goddamn bad, huh?!” I rise to my knees, peering into his face, his jaw ticking in his cheek. I jab my finger into his chest, but he catches it and wraps his hand around mine.

His palm is so warm, it nearly burns. The feel of his skin against my own pierces me straight through my core like an ice pick.

“You’re hurting, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Harper, but you know me better than that. You know I had nothing to do with this. I’m trying to help you, whether you want to believe that or not. And to be honest, I don’t even know why I’m trying. It’s not like it’ll make a difference anyhow.”

He drops my hand and rises, then holds out his palm.

I look at it, my eyes burning and my voice hoarse. “What’s that supposed to mean? It wouldn’t make a difference? With what?”

I let him help me up, only because I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own.

He steadies me at my elbow, his brows pulled low at the sight of my arm. Blood blooms crimson against the green of my cardigan, just barely beginning to drip past my fingers. I cringe. He avoids my gaze when I lift my face to his.

Instead he stares at the roof of Biltmore rising over the bush wall. “If you stay or go, it doesn’t matter. It won’t fix you. I thought if you left, things would be better. I thought if I could just get you the fuck away from me, all this would be over.

“But I know now that you’ll haunt me until the day I die. There is no getting rid of you, Harper. No digging you out from under my skin. I always thought that I was broken, because I’ve only ever felt… With other girls, I don’t…”

He swipes the back of his hand against his forehead.

“I’ve never felt things for anyone except…” He shakes his head. “But it doesn’t matter anymore because when I’m around you, I hate myself because you bring out the worst, most vile parts of me.”

I’m breathless. Stunned at the cruel words falling from his lips. My head is swimming. He’s blinking in and out, multiplying and dividing. I’m not quite sure which version of him to be angrier at.

“You don’t mean that,” I say, swaying on my feet. I grip the hem of his shirt to keep myself from falling over. His stomach tightens beneath my touch. “You don’t mean any of that.”

He shakes his head, lips twisting as he bites the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to decide what to do with me now. “If you won’t go to the campus police, at least let me take you to the infirmary.”

“I’m fine,” I hiss, shouldering past him, wincing when the jostling tears at my chest, increases the throbbing in my arm.

His fingers wrap around my elbow again. “You’re not fine, but I can’t force you.” A beat of silence. “You’re being really stupid, though.”

Slowly he leads me out of the maze.

“You sure you didn’t see them?” I ask.

“No.” He says it plainly.

I hate that I believe him.

“Well, did you see… anything else? Anything weird?”

“What do you mean ‘weird?’ ”

It’s right there, on the tip of my tongue. The witches in the bushes. The iridescent wave. The magic.

But I can’t trust him.

I can’t trust anyone anymore.

So I keep my mouth shut.

THIRTY-ONE

WE EXIT THE MAZE AND turn toward McDowell House. My steps have slowed significantly, exhaustion and pain catching up to me once again. When we get into the elevator, Malachi hits the button for his floor. When he doesn’t press mine, I lean forward, but he blocks me.

“You’re coming back to my room.”

I sputter. “I’m sorry?”