Page 43 of Relapse

When I didn’t respond right away, he let out a silly laugh, pouring the wine straight from the bottle into his mouth again.

“You’re high as fuck.” He stared at me, expectantly, as if waiting for me to correct myself.

Instead, I deadlocked his eyes with my own and I repeated what I had said before. “I killed a man. I shot him before your masquerade ball. I had to.”

The room went silent—too silent for my liking, and I could see the gears and Noah’s mind begin to work. I wondered if he was afraid. Or, I thought, perhaps he knew I had this part of me inside all along.

That darkness that I knew he craved and wanted—that sick, twisted monster that lay beneath the sheets tucked neatly inside of me. Now, I was admitting it to him for the first time that I was exactly what he always knew me to be:

Evil.

I couldn’t help but wonder if it was the pill making me so honest. Drugs could be “truth tellers,” as some say. Perhaps, this was my truth teller, the tiny little white pop of the pill we took in the bar together.

Noah was frozen, the bottle of wine still touching his lips gently, his dark eyes shimmering with …what exactly? What’s that in there, Raven? Horror? Admiration?

Either way, his silence brought my nerves to the surface.

“Say something, Noah. Fuck.”

He put the wine bottle down on a side table near my office chairs and crossed his arms protectively over his chest. He stared to the side for a minute, as if thinking.

“Well… shit…wh-what do we do?”

An emotion stirred inside me, rushing up through my body and into my heart. I was dumbfounded by this boy, because that’s what he was, despite the one in his age rounding up to a two. A boy—young, reckless, and so fucking naïve. Brought into adulthood too swiftly. Robbed of childhood.

Willing to risk it all for me?

I threw my head back and laughed. The feeling overtook me faster than I could imagine. An uncontrollable laughter consumed me, and the look on Noah’s face only added to my amusement.

“Silas, have you lost it entirely?” Noah questioned, concerned.

And the answer was, yes. Yes, I had. Here we were—higher than fucking kites, drinking and kissing and talking about murder, and Noah wanted to know if I’d lost it?

I lost it long ago.

“I told you that I’ve taken a life—” I tried my hardest to speak the words through my howling.

“I killed someone, Noah, and you… and you…” I took a deep breath before continuing. “And your first question is to ask what “we” do?”

Noah’s paranoia nearly sent me off on another bender.

“Aw, shit, is that why you brought me here?” He swiftly began eyeing the office space. “Is the body here? Do we have to bury it?”

I glided to his side and he stumbled back into the desk at my approach. I pressed my hands to the table on either side of him, leaned in and caught his gaze. The weight that settled between us told me how the closeness made him feel. Somewhere between fear and arousal—just where I wanted him to be. His breath hitched, just barely, and his eyes flicked down before returning to mine, darker now. Naughty little Raven. He enjoyed this too much.

“You’re not afraid of me?” I asked, grazing my nose against his.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he repeated, but as a statement of fact.

“Not even a little.” I grinned.

That offended him. “Okay, ass.”

“Actually, I lied. You do—” my words caught in my throat, and Noah noticed. He glanced up at me through thick lashes. He was so fucking beautiful, I couldn’t even function. I had to battle everything in me that wanted to kiss him. I had to get this next part out—properly.

I took a moment to consider my words. “You do scare me. Sometimes.”

“Why?” he asked, breathlessly.