Page 14 of Moonlit Temptation

“What was that?” He turned his ear toward me, cupping his hand over the cartilage.

“You said it a while ago.” I felt my alabaster skin deepen in shade. I had a memory where I couldn’t remember my multiplication by eights but could recall conversations with Saint from years ago.

“Tastes can change. It just so happens I have a deep appreciation for the color.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s clean. Pure. Innocent.” Saint’s laugh was low, deep in his chest, as his eyes never left mine–his words puncturing my chest.

Clean.

Pure.

Innocent.

Virginal.

Adjectives that didn’t belong to me.

While my siblings rebelled against our strict father’s rules in quiet, subtle ways, I was more reckless.

Sneaking out my window past curfew, lying through my teeth when I’d come home to find my father waiting up for me.

Sneaking bottles of alcohol out from behind the bar at parties.

The girl who rode her skateboard through traffic, cutting off cars and “daring them to hit me,” as my father liked to say.

I’d make up stories every time I got caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to.

Anthony Novak liked to keep his children in gilded cages, and I was the little bird that needed to get out.

My brother was the jock of the family.

My sister, the scholar.

I was the liar.

I lied to live. To breathe.

“So what you’re saying is that I shouldn’t wear white anymore?” I swished my skirt with a smile.

He groaned, head tilting back. “Don’t say shit like that to me, Madelayne.”

“Why?”

“Because now I’m going to have to kill the fuckhead that you slept with.”

I laughed, only for the sound to die off when I realized he wasn’t joking. “Why do you care?”

Saint watched me with a sharpened gaze, only I wasn’t sure if it was one of protection or destruction. “I?—”

He didn’t get a chance to answer. A passing drunk slammed into my shoulder, knocking me off balance. I went tumbling to the street and would’ve knocked my chin clean on the cobblestone if Saint didn’t literally swoop down to catch me.

“Fucker!” he shouted at the retreating group, who carried on laughing like nothing happened.

And to them, nothing had.

But for me, I was being hauled against Saint’s chest. Rendered useless as he brushed the hair away from my face. “You okay?” he asked around the cigarette pinned between his lips.

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