Page 52 of Reckoning

“That’s a story for another time.”

I took the glass from his hand and set it to the side, looking at his other wrist. There it was again, the faint scar running up his arm and disappearing beneath the rolled-up sleeve. I placed my finger just over his pulse, the place where his blood must have poured from, and looked up to find him watching me.

“And you did it again? The night I came here?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fucking Joshua. He took my pills after that, but I snuck them back.” He pumped his fist with a sardonic smile. “Still didn’t fucking work.”

I bit my lip before asking the next question. “Why did you change … I mean, this time, why did you use pills?”

He paused before answering this time. Using his free hand to finger a lock of my hair, he finally turned to meet my eyes. “I didn’t want you to have to see all that blood.”

I sighed and rose to my feet with him following me. We didn’t move, just stared at each other, the fire heating my back, and his face illuminated before me. I reached up to his face, skin dewy from the warm fire, but somehow still as cool as it always was.

“You see? We can always change,” I whispered.

“I’ve never wanted to.” He put his hands on my side, thumbs stroking my breasts through my shirt. “Before. I never wanted to before.”

“And now?” I could smell his whiskey.

“I still don’t think it’s possible.”

“We’re standing like this, aren’t we?”

His forehead pressed against mine, both our breaths coming faster. My eyes burned.

“And what do you think that means?” His lips moved to my forehead. “Do you think it even matters?”

“It matters to me,” I whispered, and then I kissed him.

I thought he would crush me with his desire, given the way he’d attacked me previously, but he didn’t move for several long seconds. When my tongue stole out to lick his lips, he woke up. His hands reached up to cup my face as he opened his mouth, plunging his tongue past my barely parted lips to claim me. The way he walked me backward once more to press me against the wall with his body became more possessive than anything he had ever done before—even his attempt to seduce me in the shower.

My own breath caught, surprised by his surety even though I had been so confident in it moments before. One hand floated to my lower back, his wide palm pressing against my skin just above the waist of my jeans and pulling me tighter against him. Our tongues danced with a fury that betrayed my own conflicted feelings, and his need to dominate the situation that was being overtaken by his craving for me. I let one of my own hands wander higher, burying my fingers in perfect golden hair that was as soft as it looked.

Both hands were on my waist, sliding lower until they dipped into my back pockets and squeezed my ass hungrily. I groaned and tugged his hair harder, my other hand now gripping the back of his neck. I could feel his length pressing against me, growing steadily with each passing moment and each subsequent kiss. I was completely lost, unaware of the reason I had been so angry with him moments before. He was crushing me, both with his body and the force of his emotions I could feel pouring into me. This was as difficult for him as it was for me. Even now, I knew. He wasn’t just looking to mark his territory or claim me like a trophy. He felt something for me beyond ownership.

We burst apart when he bit my lip and looked at each other in the flickering light. His face was flushed, warm for once, lips swollen where I had nipped at them as I let my guard drop. His finger came to my face, brushing across my lip, and when he pulled it away, there was a speck of red on his skin. He never broke eye contact as he brought his thumb to his mouth and licked away my blood.

“Go to bed, Maddie. I want to be alone.”

I clutched his shirt. “You shouldn’t be. It’s not safe for you.” It was too scary to leave him alone again, especially when he’d been drinking. Did he have a stash of pills? Would he go back to a razor?

My thoughts scattered as his hand cupped the back of my neck, and he pulled me against him, lips landing on my forehead. “It’ll be all right. I won’t disappear.”

I couldn’t make myself pull away. My pulse pounded in my eyelids; I wanted to kiss him again to rid my mouth of the taste of my blood. He wrapped my hair around his wrist and pulled my head back and to the side, kissing my neck.

“This isn’t what you do when you’re trying to send someone away.”

He tilted his head to press one cheek against mine. “I don’t really want you to go. I don’t want you to leave me ever again.”

How could he be like this? So harsh and cold, angry at the entire world, and then turn so pliant in my hands. I wanted to hate him. I did hate him. But we shared so much more than I ever could have imagined. And beneath every incidence of animosity, I felt more and more connected to him, a primal pull between us that I couldn’t fight.

“Go to bed.” His lips brushed my ear, but then he pushed me away and turned his back. “I’ll join you later.”

That took some of the weight off my shoulders. He promised. I reached out to him, fingers brushing the back of his shirt as he stepped just out of reach. Like always.

Back in the bedroom, I pondered what to do with the letter. Where could I keep this? Peering around the room, I ran into the closet and pulled down a pair of shoes that I’d never seen Meyer wear—they were coated with a fine layer of dust. I removed the shoe tree from the left and tucked my mother’s letter into it, then replaced everything and changed into my T-shirt and shorts before washing my face and climbing into bed.

This was a turning point. It had to be. Somehow, my mother had gotten to him, and he’d been convinced to bring me this letter. He couldn’t be unaffected by this. If I could keep tonight’s feeling, wedge myself a little deeper between him and his father, maybe there was a chance to fracture them permanently. I just couldn’t let tonight slip.

I lay awake for hours, counting the minutes until he joined me in bed, but he never came.

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