Page 66 of Scorch

I grin. “Yup.”

“For now, we’re heading back,” he says to Polina. “We’ll be in touch about the wedding details.”

“So soon?” Polina asks with a pout. “I need to get to know your bride, though.”

“We’ll have time,” he says, but he’s obviously a million miles away, completely preoccupied with the threat against us.

The ride home is intense, fraught with need and want and innuendo as he kneads my thigh with his huge palm and tells me every wicked thing he’s planning to do to me.

“I have a surprise for you outside,” he says when we arrive.

My heart beats a little faster, but I manage to brush it off. “Dude, if it’s more sex… we might consider a bed next time.”

He only growls and narrows his eyes.

Do I want this? I don’t want to lose control to anyone.

But when he insists… it makes my heart expand in my chest.

I feel wanted.

“Alright, alright…” I walk where he gestures. I haven’t really explored the grounds outside his house yet.

“This. Over here.”

I turn the corner and cover my mouth with my hand when I take it all in. “Viktor.”

He knows me. How does he know me so well?

Nestled in the secluded, lush gardens that surround his estate, there’s a fire pit area, an oasis that looks as if it were designed specifically for someone who… likes fire.

No. Loves fire.

It looks somehow gothic and enchanting here like it was lifted straight out of a fairy tale. The fire pit itself is a large, intricate design made of black iron, resting on a base reminiscent of gnarled tree roots. The iron is carved with patterns of flames and runes, giving it a mystical, timeless appearance.

The pit has built-in compartments for kindling and logs, as well as a custom grate for controlling the intensity of the flames. A wrought iron poker and tongs hang from the side, ready for use.

Surrounding the fire pit are heavy, dark wooden benches cushioned with deep, wine-colored velvet. Gothic-style lanterns hang from wrought iron posts, casting a warm, flickering glow across the space. String lights are woven through the surrounding trees, their soft twinkle making it feel magical.

“Viktor… is this for…?”

“You? Yeah. Of course it is.”

I swallow, a mixture of honor and fear warring within me. “I… I don’t know how to feel.”

Leaning in, he kisses my cheek. “That’s alright.”

“How did you know?” I hold his gaze. “Tell me the truth.”

With a casual shrug that almost makes him appear boyish, he looks away. “I’ve been following you for a while. I know you were sent away to boarding school when your father couldn’t keep you in control, and you were booked on charges of arson. I know even your mother tried to stop you, but her methods involved trying to marry you off to the next suitor who would help you.” He shakes his head. “There’s sadly a shortage of people who understand your need.”

I swallow. “My need?”

He strikes a match. “Your need to set fire, baby.”

He takes a step toward me. “Let your wall down. Stop fighting, Lydia. You’re safe here.” He gestures. “Look. The fire won’t go beyond these brick walls.” I look around and notice for the first time the space filled with candles and matchsticks, a stack of firewood, and a flame thrower.

I can already feel the way my pulse races when I strike a match. The way my breathing regulates at that first smell of smoke. The utter control I have watching flames wreak havoc, devastation just there, at my fingertips.

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