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“Oh, but I think it is. Got a nice ring to it, huh?” he teases, pressing his lips to the base of my throat and blowing against it. The vibrations tickle, and I can’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of this man.

“Shut up,” I grumble, pushing him off me so I can peel myself off the now-sticky surface of my altar.

We end up in the shower, which is far too small for both of us, our laughter echoing in the cramped space as we relearn the shape of each other’s bodies and the library of sounds we can pull from each other.

It’s easy, in that moment, to forget that there’s something sitting, untended, beneath Sunday’s skin.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sunday

“Sunday, you’re not going to hurt me, are you?” Bellamy smiles up at me, naked save for a strip of black silk sheets twisted across his hips. His hands rake over my chest, nails scraping my skin lightly.

My hands follow the same motion, palms splaying across his golden chest, right across his heart. He nibbles on his bottom lip, playfulness sparkling in his eyes. “Can you feel my heart, baby?” he asks dreamily.

“Yes,” I answer, but it’s not really my voice. Too deep, the inflection of the vowels wrong.

My fingers flex on Bellamy’s chest. Once. Twice.

And then they punch straight through his flesh, into his chest cavity. Blood bubbles out of the crater where his heart used to be, the lump of muscle still beating in my hand.

Bellamy chokes, a sea of ruby flowing out of his mouth and sliding down the side of his neck.

Bile splatters the sink as I empty my guts into it as quietly as I can manage. I’m dripping with sweat, still reeling from the horrific images that flooded my brain in my sleep.

I wash my hands twice to get rid of the phantom feeling of blood. I know it’s not there—I know. But plunging my hand into Bellamy’s chest cavity and ripping out his heart felt so fucking real.

After rinsing my mouth with mouthwash and quickly wiping myself down with a damp cloth, I tiptoe back into the living room, fishing the small metal tin and Zippo out of my jeans pocket. It’s still raining, so I only open the window enough to blow smoke out of it.

I tried to stop, but it hasn’t really helped, other than making it harder for me to get to sleep. Only this and the indescribable feeling of being able to touch Bellamy and coax all those noises out of him seem to get me there.

Two tokes are all I allow myself before I stub it out on the window frame and stash the rest back in the tin for another day.

Bellamy stirs when I slip back under the covers, a sweet, soft sound coming from him as he wiggles into my side. His skin on mine tranquilizes my erratic heartbeat.

I watch his pretty face as he blinks slowly awake, trying to forget what it looked like in my dream. He’s so fucking precious I don’t know what to do with it at all.

“Are you okay?” he whispers into the dark, sliding his palm across my belly.

I still can’t believe that I’m in his bed. After everything I did, after how much he pushed me away, I didn’t think there was ever a chance of us being together again—not that we’ve really labeled what this is.

“Not really,” I tell him, because he deserves the truth. All of it. I can’t seem to tell him I’m sorry enough, so what’s once more? “I’m sorry for not believing you. Seems like real bad karma that my body had to be invaded to get me there, huh?”

The lack of windows in his bedroom makes it incredibly dark, the only light coming from a soft purple night-light in the shape of a crescent moon.

It’s the exact kind of darkness, the right kind of lateness, that makes our whispered words come freely.

“I wouldn’t wish what’s happening to you on anyone,” he says, settling his head on my chest. “And for the record…I forgive you.”

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

I swallow hard, not trusting myself to open my mouth in case whatever I say comes out sounding like a strangled cat.

Thankfully, Bellamy continues to talk softly as I play with the bracelets on his wrist. “I’m not going to lie and say that you didn’t hurt me enough to leave scars.” His voice remains steady, calm. “I don’t know if they’ll ever fully go away, but I forgive you for leaving when you weren’t sure. I made the mistake of staying with someone like that and look where it got me.”

“Back in bed with a smokin’ hot alt baddie?” I tease, because there’s only so much emoting I can do without starting to feel antsy.