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“No you don’t,” I finally said before rolling off of him, my back hitting the ground as I stared at the ceiling. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
“Is that why you ran, beautiful? Because you were afraid August would peel back your layers and not like the fractured soul you’re clinging to?”
“Stop,” I begged while placing my hands over my eyes. More tears seemed to well up. They were never-ending.
He poised himself above me, ripping my hands from my face so he could peer at me with his brown gaze. “You’re perfect, Christine. If he can’t see the real you and be man enough to love even the bloodiest parts of your soul, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
“What if I don’t deserve him? What if I don’t deserve any of you? What if I’ve become a monster?”
“Then I guess I’m a monster catcher, baby,” he whispered. I had a physical reaction to him; it was like my soul calmed. He continued. “I’m patient. I don’t want you until I don’t have to share you with anyone else. Let them show you how unworthy they are. I’ll be waiting for you to realize who you belong with.”
He let go of my hands and slid away from me. I felt his absence almost immediately. I didn’t want distance between Atticus and me. Something about him calmed me down, even if it was wrong, even if it confused me. My body grew cold and I felt this overwhelming emptiness. I couldn’t help but feel like he’d be waiting forever. “I’m engaged,” I sputtered, not sure why I felt the need to defend my fake marriage. Atticus sat up, his shoulders raised with tension.
I felt the blast of his icy gaze as if I was hit in the stomach with it. “I’m used to being in August’s shadow. I’ve spent my entire life thriving in the dark. I’m not afraid to do the immoral. I’m not afraid to fuck you with his ring on your finger, Christine. Why do you feel the need to defend a man who doesn’t care?”
“He cares,” I snapped.
“He’s a selfish bastard with a silver spoon practically glued to his tongue. He’s an addict. A whore. He gets these fleeting impulses where he tries to be good, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. You’ll get a beautiful wedding. He’ll kiss you in front of the cameras. Then you’ll spend a lifetime finding photos of him with his head between the thighs of models in the tabloids. He’ll overdose before he turns thirty if you’re lucky.”
I didn’t want to hear it. It sounded like such a bleak future for the two of us. “August could still change.”
Atticus bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before responding. “Your faith in him is deplorable. But I can wait. Eventually, he’ll break your heart past repair. Eventually, you’ll realize what’s been in front of you all along. Eventually, I’ll bring you into my world, and you’ll never want to leave.”
I swallowed, not sure what to say.
“It’s nice to hear what you really think of me, mate,” August’s voice cut through the tension. I turned to look at him, and my heart panged when I saw the hurt in his eyes. I hadn’t even heard August enter the library. His tone was sharp like a blade and laced with sorrow. I felt ashamed even though I’d done nothing wrong.
August and Atticus had always had a strange friendship. It was full of jealousy and competitiveness. I never understood it. But the one thing that kept them together was at least polite silence about their differences. They’d sometimes snap at one another, but at the end of the day, they both swallowed their problems and put on a smile for the tabloids.
This felt like a step toward destruction, though.
Atticus stood up and held his hand out for me. I reluctantly took it and he pulled me to my feet.
Atticus, who seemed more bold than usual, sneered. “It’s nothing you don’t already know.”
I felt stuck between them but also didn’t feel loyal to either of them. August had hurt me plenty of times in the last couple of days; he didn’t deserve me rushing to his side to comfort him. And Atticus had been stalking me. Neither were innocent in this. I wasn’t a piece of rope to be tugged back and forth between them.
“I was just coming to check on you, Christine,” August said with a frown before turning to look at me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded stiffly. I didn’t know how to explain how I was feeling. It wasn’t the intimacy that made me freak out. I couldn’t stand finally having something with August while I felt so hollow because of the secrets between us.
“My mother wants us to meet her for the scheduled interviews…” August looked like he’d rather pluck his eyes out than go to an interview after all the revelations of the day, but we didn’t have much of a choice, not with my past hanging over my head.
Atticus straightened his tie and smiled at us. “The show must go on, I suppose,” he said before walking out of the room. “Looking forward to seeing the happy couple in all the papers. I’ll call you, Christine.”
Once he was out of earshot, August shook his head and cursed. We stared at one another, a tense moment passing between us. I opened and closed my mouth. The girl I used to be would have immediately comforted August. He still had a lot to prove to me, and I needed to know if he was capable of loving the monster I’d become.
“Why did you run to him?” he asked, his lips curled in anger.
I hated this. “He found me. He followed me.”
He stormed up to me and looked me up and down. The wrath of a future king would have made many cower in fear, but not me. “You’re mine,” he whispered. “You understand? Mine. No one else’s. I don’t care if I’m a bastard that doesn’t deserve you.” He reached out and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. “Your lips are mine,” he whispered before lightly brushing his mouth against mine. I melted at the contact while hating myself for responding to him so. He reached up and grabbed my breast, his large hand covering my swollen flesh. “This is mine, too,” he whispered before kissing my neck.
His hand drifted lower. My legs trembled. My breath hitched. He pressed his palm over my dress and between my legs, cupping me. I involuntarily spread wider for him, as if on instinct. “This beautiful pussy? It’s mine. Am I an asshole for touching you even now? I can’t seem to help myself whenever I see you with him.”
I was so wet that it was almost embarrassing. Could he feel the heat? I was still aching for him.
It occurred to me just then that August was the only person in the world able to make me feel weak anymore.
