Page 18 of Grave Intentions

She gestures for Lena to sit beside that smug bastard, David. I can see the hesitation flicker across Lena’s delicate features as she eyes the empty chair. Her lips part, no doubt to protest, but one stern look from Mrs. Wilson has her mouth snapping shut.

Glowering at Mrs. Wilson, she hesitates and places her hands on her hips. When she doesn’t sit, Mr. Wilson moves to stand and she immediately sinks into her chair, the fear of what he might do driving her. But I don’t miss how her shoulders hunch inward ever so slightly, bracing herself. Nor do I miss the way David’s gaze rakes over her petite form, his eyes lingering on the gentle swell of her breasts beneath her modest sweater.

Rage surges through me, a white-hot inferno that sears my veins. How dare he look at her like that? Like she’s just another pretty little thing to be leered at and devoured. Lena is no one’s plaything. She’s too pure, too precious for the likes of an arrogant prick like David Collins.

I dig my nails into my palms to keep from launching across the table and wiping that look off his face. The sharp sting of broken skin does little to dull the anger coursing through me.

David leans closer, his bulky frame practically dwarfing Lena’s slight figure. “So, Lena,” he drawls, his voice dripping with an arrogance that makes me want to vomit. “I hear you like reading.”

Lena tenses and her knuckles whiten as her hands clench. “I do, yes.”

“That’s cute.” David chuckles, the sound grating on my ears. “You could read me a bedtime story sometime.”

The implication in his words is clear, and bile rises in my throat. I can see how Lena shrinks away from him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and discomfort.

Anger and something else, something darker and more primal, swirls within me. I have this all-consuming need to protect her from people like David. My fingers itch to reach across the table and wrap around his neck, to squeeze until that lecherous grin is wiped clean off his smug face and he’s no longer breathing.

Instead, I remain still, my body taut as a bowstring as I watch the scene unfold. Lena may not realize it yet, but she needs me. Needs someone to keep the monsters at bay, to guard her light from being snuffed out.

And I will be that someone. No matter what it takes, I’ll ensure her safety and happiness, even if it means embracing the darkness within myself and giving in to the twisted desires that churn in the depths of my soul.

Because Lena Graves is mine. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone, especially some entitled prick like David Collins, lay a single finger on her.

14

LENA

SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD

Eleven months later…

Isit beside David in the darkened movie theater, trying to focus on the film. His arm rests on my seat, and I catch the scent of his expensive cologne. He’s attractive, the kind of guy any girl would want—successful, from a good family, interested in me. I should feel lucky.

But my thoughts keep drifting to Talon. The way his blue eyes pierce through me. The bird ornament he gave me one year ago is still perched on my dresser. The electricity whenever we’re close.

David’s hand slides onto my thigh, jolting me from my thoughts. I shift uncomfortably. After a rather awkward meeting eleven months ago around the dinner table at the Wilsons and constant badgering from Mrs. Wilson, I’ve finally agreed to a date with him.

“David, stop,” I whisper, moving his hand away.

He chuckles softly, his fingers creeping back. “Come on, baby. No one can see.”

My stomach churns. “I said no.” I keep my voice firm but quiet.

His grip tightens, fingers digging into my leg as his hand moves higher. The movie’s dialogue fades to background noise as panic rises in my chest.

“David, please.” I grab his wrist, but he’s stronger.

“Don’t be such a prude,” he hisses in my ear. “Your foster parents want us together. You should be grateful I’m interested in you at all.”

His words sting, but the fear overwhelms the hurt. I try to stand, but his other hand clamps down on my shoulder, keeping me in place. The darkness that once felt cozy now feels suffocating. Other moviegoers remain oblivious, absorbed in the film playing before us.

“Stop it,” I say again, louder this time. A few heads turn in our direction.

David’s fingers dig deeper into my shoulder. “Shut up and sit still,” he growls, his charming facade completely gone.

I freeze as David’s hand slides higher, my throat tight with fear and disgust. Tears burn behind my eyes as I realize he won’t listen to me.

A shadow falls over us. I look up to see Talon’s tall frame, his presence commanding even in the darkness.

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