Page 240 of Sorrow & Strangers

He answers my moan with a deep guttural groan.

“And because of that . . .” My eyes roll as he drags his nose along my jaw. “For now, we need to be friends only.”

He tenses before pulling back enough to look down at me.

“So no mentioning me sitting on your lap or touching me.”

He hesitates for a long moment before pulling back and rubbing his hand down his face. “So platonic in every way?”

“Yes.”

He paces back and forth a few times before he glances at me, my back still against the wall. “I’m sorry, princess. I am also struggling.”

“You are?”

He turns to face me, his power roiling. “You think you are desperate?” he asks. “You have only the barest knowledge of desperation.” He prowls closer but stays out of arm’s reach. “You know nothing of desperation, little fae. Nothing.”

My breathing is shallow as I watch him. As I feel his desire, his need, the danger radiating from him.

He moves in closer, still not touching me but looming over me. “You may feel desperate, but it has not sunk into your bones. Into your soul. Until it is twisted into a mass of throbbing need for something . . . for someone . . .”

I stare at him, caught in his pull. “And what is it you need, Stranger?” I ask barely above a whisper.

“You. Always you.” He chuckles darkly, and a shiver tingles down my spine.

More . . .

“More?” he growls, and my breath hitches. Did I say that out loud? “More of the lines I’d cross for you? The person I’d be? The monster I am? The villain you crave?”

“All of it.”

He places his hand against the stone of the building above my head and leans in closer. He’s still not touching me. Why the fuck isn’t he touching me?

“You said platonic. Strictly.”

“But . . .” My cheeks heat.

“Tell me to go, princess.”

I stare up at him, my chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“Now,” he growls.

“Stranger—”

“If you don’t tell me to go. I will take you away from this place, and I will have my way with you. Screw the consequences. You have to tell me to go because I don’t have the strength to walk away from you.”

His voice is dark and dangerous, and I want to let him. I’m desperate to just walk into his arms, but I owe myself the time to get to know myself, to heal fully. When I do fall into the stranger, I know I will get so lost in him that I will never be found again.

“Go,” I say, and it’s barely a whisper, but it’s enough for him, and after a long, intense look of longing, he leaves.

Chapter Ninety-Eight

Summer

Iwake the next morning, and when I roll over, my hand lands against something hard. I blink my eyes open to find a red leather-bound book lying next to me, a black peony on top. The tag, as usual, is marked little fae. Picking up the peony, I sit up and bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply. My lips tug into a smile, and I brush the silky petals against my cheek. I close my eyes, savoring the scent. It smells like Heaven and Hell all wrapped into one perfect flower. It smells like how I imagine he smells, like danger wrapped in the most delicious, irresistible package.

I open my eyes and carefully set the flower down before picking up the book. It surprises me that it isn’t a textbook or an instructional manual. It’s a fictional story about queens and kings. About malice and anger. About love and fate. I get lost in it until my alarm goes off. I am so immersed in the story that the sudden sound startles me, making me jump.