Page 36 of A Heart of Bluestone

Looming over me, the graze of his nose tickles my hairline.

His breath is hot on my skin as he says, “I do hope that the first one to find you here has good intentions. For your sake.”

My lashes would flutter with the shock—but I can do nothing as his mouth presses to my forehead, then lingers. Not a kiss, not quite, but a statement. A mockery, even, of what once transpired between us, the very thing I threw in his face. Our past. Naïve children who held hands and snuck a chaste kiss here and there, because once upon a time, before it was revealed that I am a witch without magic, before he turned on me with the hatred that rots him inside, we fancied ourselves betrothed.

The kiss he lingers is bitter.

His lips push against my skin, firmer, as he drags his kiss to the curve of my ear. “Don’t ever get in my away again,” he hisses, ice-cold, “you little, fucking waif.”

The curl of his lips brushes my cheek, his mouth twisting into a silent snarl.

An ache blooms in my chest.

If I could move, my mouth would wobble with the fresh spill of tears streaking down my cheeks, catching on my jaw.

But I can’t move.

Not even as Dray draws back and eyes me over.

The cold burn of his eyes sweeps across my clavicle for a moment, brushes the tears that gloss my lips, then drag down the flimsy t-shirt that does little to conceal my body.

My heart races.

It’s thundering against the shelter of my ribcage.

If I could move, I would barrel through the door at my back, scramble through the tapestry, and lock myself in the water closet.

But I’m forced motionless as his gaze runs down the shorts clinging to my lower body, shorts meant for bed, for the privacy of the girls’ dorms, not for his eyes.

There, his gaze lingers for a moment before they snap up—and a breath of fright cuts me.

It’s enough.

A smirk ghosts over the pinkish hue of his lips before, finally, he turns his back on me.

Tears obscure my sight. I feel them dance in my eyes like watery ripples before they spill down my hot cheeks.

Still, I watch them go, the Snakes.

Landon is first to the door. He holds it open.

I see each of them leave. I count them, Serena, whose glacier pace is too at ease, then my brother, who seems to shove his shoulder into Dray’s as he passes by, but still, my brother leaves me—he always does.

Then the devil himself pauses at the door. His chin turns to his shoulder—and looks back at me, face like stone.

He holds my stare for a moment. One heartbeat, two, then his jaw clenches, tight, before he’s shoving through the door.

It slams shut behind him.

Thenclickswith a lock.

I am alone.

I am solidified.

And already, I am fucking sore.

7

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