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Why am I telling him all of this? Why am I digging my fingers into the old, infested wound even though it hurts?
It’s alcohol. Must be the alcohol.
Landon stands up and I’m too slow to follow his movements. Before I know it, he’s beside me. He removes his jacket and places it around my shoulders, then presses down gently.
It's then I realize that not only my hands are shaking, but my whole body is.
Landon lowers himself so his face is level with mine. The scent of his cologne sends a strange calming effect through me and I inhale him, breathing in as much as my lungs can take.
Isn’t it mad that I find peace in a monster?
My eyes meet his darker ones, but for some reason, they appear lighter, shinier, like the sky before sunset.
“I’m drunk,” I sign. “Forget everything I said.”
“On the contrary, I will remember every word.” He slides a stray strand behind my ear and I lean my cheek against his warm hand. “No one steals from you and gets to breathe, little muse. I’ll make sure you regain your voice even if it’s the last thing I do.”
My breathing comes in short intervals, but before I can think of anything to say, Landon lowers his head and nips my bottom lip.
Then in one swooping motion, he dips down and claims my mouth with a ferocious passion. He doesn’t only kiss me, he feasts on me. His tongue curls around mine, sweeping, tasting, and biting.
Landon has always been more interested in sex, but he’s rarely kissed me. This one, however, is more than a kiss.
It’s a whispered promise.
A nonnegotiable claim.
A new beginning.
Because I know, I just know, Landon and I will never be the same after this.
28
LANDON
This entire charade of practicing empathy has been proving more tedious than my sexual frustration.
And that’s saying something, considering my cock has been a literal dick ever since we’ve been closed for business.
Forget trying to shag other women. I can’t even look at them without imagining Mia’s soft face, pouty lips, and bright eyes looking at me like my own sex goddess.
Once upon a time, before she came along, I used to go to deviant sex clubs to find women who are into the unholy kinks I like to dish out. But after making the acquaintance of Mia’s sweet cunt and ferocious fight, the mere thought of touching someone else brings a foul taste to the back of my throat.
So now, I’m nothing more than a tension-filled entity of irritation and violence. An existence that can neither be measured nor contained and that keeps growing bigger with each passing second.
My beast has been scratching and clawing at the walls of my sanity, demanding a purging outlet. The crazier the better.
I would love nothing more than to give him a taste of euphoric anarchy. But the downside is, if I let him loose, Mia won’t give me the time of the day ever again. I’ll turn mental and could and would revert to drastic measures to have her.
And believe it or not, that would—according to Bran, who’s up for a sainthood—ruin everything and make me lose her for good.
There wouldn’t be any late-night roof dates like a few days ago. She wouldn’t meet me for chess or for a boring walk along the beach like some Victorian couple.
She wouldn’t open up to me or try to understand me. There would be no more magical laughs, bashful smiles, or pointed glares that only manage to tease my cock out of his hibernation state.
That mere possibility hovers over my chest and sanity like a dangerous brick wall that threatens to crush everything I’ve been building.
I’d be empty again like Uncle Aiden said.
