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"Can I choose more than one?"
"Of course," Gretchen says, joyously clapping her hands and poking Draven's chest. She mutters something that sounds suspiciously like,I told you,under her breath. She wanted this to happen? Doesn't she mind that we're dancing together? This entire situation is blowing my mind, and I don't know what to make of it.
I point to the songs I want and bounce on the tips of my toes when the familiar guitar strains of "I Was Made for Loving You" by KISS begins to play.
At first, I'm self-conscious, but as the song unfolds, I begin to loosen up. Gretchen goes all out, wildly shaking her hair and singing at the top of her voice. She really hams it up, and puts her back into her performance, singing and dancing like she's demented. I laugh myself silly watching her play air drums in time to all theooo ooo'sandloving you'sin the song's chorus. She's a sweetie and a spitfire, and why I ever thought she was a feeble old lady is beyond me.
The permanent grin on her face spreads to my face, as well as Draven's. His face lights up with pure joy. He's beautiful. Draven takes the stage for Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer," playing air guitar like a pro.
He exaggerates strumming the guitar, shaking his hips, and thrashing his luxurious blue hair all over. Although I love the way he moves, I kinda wish he'd tone it down a little. He's over-the-top sexy, and I'm flustered and a little embarrassed to show my feelings in front of his mother.
When my turn comes around, I end up miming "Here We Go Again" by Whitesnake. Hesitant at first, my movements feel clumsy and jerky. I'm self-conscious because we never did fun stuff like this at my house when I was growing up. Regardless, sweat is pouring off me by the time we repeat the second chorus, gathering in the valley between my cleavage. I'm having the time of my life and gasping for air.
"Phew! That's so awesome, but I need a breather!"
Gretchen squeezes my shoulder and sighs. "Thanks, kids. That was fun, but I need a rest."
Draven turns down the music, his smile making him even more handsome. "Let's go for a walk," he suggests as he offers his hand. I take it, excited by the prospect of being alone with him.
Gretchen beams a smile as we leave the gym. Knowing we have her seal of approval warms my heart. If Dad had caught us dancing, the outcome would have been different. The thought of what he thinks of Draven, and worse yet, what he would do to him, makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Chapter Five
Draven
Coolairrushesovermy overheated skin as we slip outside, Dahlia's hand caught firmly in mine. Her soft laughter still rings in my ears, filling my heart with a lightness I haven't felt in longer than I care to admit. For so long, this house has felt like a prison to me. Despite Ma's attempts to make it a home and fill it with love, Screaming Woods has been a cage.
The moment I becameother, it became so.
It no longer feels that way to me. The woman at my side fills it with…hope. She brings light to the darkness.
"Where are we going?" she asks, another of her endless questions.
"Not far," I promise, sliding my arm around her waist to tuck her carefully against my side. I tell myself this is so she doesn't trip, but that's a lie. It's pitch black in the gardens, that's true enough, but I want her close because it's where she belongs. Because I've discovered that I'm an insatiable, covetous beast when it comes to her. When my hands aren't on her, I'm jealous of whatever dares to touch her in my stead, be it her clothing or her cleaning things. And when my hands are on her, I want nothing more than to keep them there permanently.
"A man of mystery," she says. "This mystery of yours better not involve me falling to my death, Draven. I can't see a thing out here."
"Close your eyes then, Beauty." I run a hand down her arm. And then, because I'm wicked and can't resist temptation, I twine my tail around her body, flicking the tassel against the side of her neck in a teasing caress. "Let me be your guide for once."
She makes a breathy, groaning sound that will haunt my dreams.
I avoid glancing in her direction to see if she obeyed my instruction. My eyes rapidly adjust to the absence of light, and my vision strengthens. Color bleeds into the world, painting it with all the beauty I miss when the sun sits high in the sky or artificial light interferes. The world isn't truly black at night, oh no. Blue, purple, silver, gray, black, and white swirl together, creating a backdrop for a thousand twinkling stars.
Fields of verdant green stretch from one end of Screaming Woods to the other, a canopy of autumn foliage overhead rustling in the wind. I experience each color as if the sun were a giant ball in the sky. But I don't look at Dahlia, not yet.
When I seeher with my sight at its strongest—trulyseeher—I don't want it to be a quick glance. I want to consume her slowly. That's how art should be appreciated, is it not? Slowly, with careful consideration.
"I can't believe you play air guitar." A burble of laughter escapes her lips, slightly nervous. She isn't used to giving up control of her senses or of herself. I doubt she's ever given this much control to a man like me…followed a literal waking nightmare willingly into the dark.
Why is she following me? Why does she allow me to put my hands on her?
She's beauty and grace, everything bright and shining in this world. And I'm the thing they keep locked in a mansion in the heart of the woods. The thing that wants to fuck her until she's screaming the roof down around us. Iama monster, even if she doesn't see me that way. I would kill for her, burn this world to ash for her.
And still, she follows me with her hand in mine. Willingly.
Would she follow so willingly if she knew how badly I ache to stalk her through the darkness like a predator chasing down his prey?
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Beauty," I growl, my voice dark and dangerous…darker than I intended.
