Page 109 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

And I was the one driving him to his death.

That night was cold. Almost unbearably so. Even the flickering of the fire we’d built did little to fight off the chill that settled inside my bones. What was the point of summer if it was going to be a cruel, vicious bitch?

I couldn’t sleep. Not with rocks digging into my back, cookies sitting heavy in my belly, and my two stacked hoodies too thin to ward off the ever-present chill.

“What are you doing?” Prudence asked, staring at me as I dumped the backpack out onto the ground and began organizing its contents. Everything inside was stained with dirt. My broken phone. The last handful of protein bars Prudence had stolen, our half-full water bottle, my still cum-soaked jeans, fresh boxers—a set of rainbow-colored markers, my sketchbook.

Everything was there.

Wait.

I picked up the pack of markers in confusion. When I glared at Prudence in accusation he just huffed out an annoyed breath, like I was the confusing one.

“Why the hell did you pack markers in our very tiny survival backpack?”

Because he was a cagey bitch he just shrugged and crossed his arms, obviously trying to intimidate me into submission—or distract me with his biceps. But no. No. This…No. This was not a fight I was going to abandon. I was too hungry for this shit. And this was honestly the most ridiculous thing he’d ever done. There had to be a reason behind it.

“I packed the bag before you told me you weren’t making art anymore,” Prudence glared at me, waiting for me to retaliate. “I thought you might want it.”

What could I say?

Fuck you, for being weirdly thoughtful and packing art supplies since you knew I was an artist?

The fight left me as quickly as it had come and I sighed, fiddling with the plastic packaging thoughtfully. I hadn’t created anything new in months. My last attempts had made me want to gouge my eyes out—so I’d given up rather quickly.

Prudence’s hope was yellow, yellow, yellow as I bit my lip and squinted at him thoughtfully. His arms flexed where he had them crossed, all those gorgeous tattoos on display. Tentacles trailed up his forearms, other gothic depictions of crows and grim reapers, tombstones and spiderwebs dancing atop his very pale skin. Between each design, however, was an ample amount of blank space. Too much blank space, maybe.

Huh.

“You owe me,” I decided, holding a hand out expectantly. I didn’t know what exactly he owed me for—but—I figured I could decide that after I got my revenge.

“I don’t have any money.”

“Jesus, this isn’t a robbery.” I laughed, shaking my open hand at him. The dirt was cool beneath my ass, but the conversation was distracting enough I nearly forgot how uncomfortable and tired I was. “Give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, Prudence placed his hand in mine.

He eyed me warily, like he expected me to attack. Which was hilarious, since between the two of us, he was the violent one. I was the sneaky one, obviously. Very sneaky. Which was why he didn’t suspect a thing as I tugged him closer, and his eyes narrowed while I dumped out the package of markers and snagged a red one. I bit the cap between my teeth to pull it off, spat it out, then pressed the marker to his skin.

He sucked in a breath, and I did my best not to grow hard immediately at the sound.

“You’re…something else,” I said honestly, softly. The words were simple on the outside, but the true meaning behind them hung like stars in the air between us as I traced the first fledgling petals of a delicate rose beside one of the tentacles on his ropey forearm.

You’re something else meant…

You’re perfect.

You’re wonderful.

It meant…

You’re surprising.

You’re better than anyone I’ve ever met before.

You’re confusing in the best way.

Three innocent words, with a love poem hidden between the cracks.

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