Page 54 of Corrupt Me

Just fucking great.

A rainstorm.

Why wouldn’t it start to downpour when I was having the shittiest night?

It was no easy feat hobbling my ass down the last flight of stairs to the ground level. I clung to the banister, taking the steps one at a time until I finally reached the bottom. When I pushed the exit door open, a lightning bolt lit up the sky, and I limped across the parking lot, my ankle screaming in protest, slowing me down as fat drops of rain spit from the black sky, soaking me to the bone.

I didn’t care.

Not about my clothes. My hair. My pride.

Something about the rain triggered a response buried deep within me, a nightmare I longed to forget. Or perhaps it was the rain combined with the feeling of loss. The circumstances sparked memories of another night. I thought I’d worked through the worst of my mother’s death.

I was wrong.

That numbness I feared and battled to quell spread inside me, moving from my toes and climbing higher and higher and higher. It was like a misty fog cloaked my body and I was trapped inside, looking at the world through a steamy mirror.

I kept walking, well, hobbling, really, through the parking lot. I needed to get to my car. The problem was, I couldn’t remember where I parked. Halting, I turned in a circle, a pathetic attempt to get my bearings. The more I tried to focus on the rows of cars, the fuzzier they became. I felt myself spiraling but couldn’t do anything to stop the whirling rush that made me dizzy. My breath quickened in my chest, burning my lungs.

I couldn’t decide if the world spun or if I was moving in circles.

Every bone in my body wanted to crumble to the ground. My legs weakened, the blacktop coming closer as rain pelted upon me.

The ground would catch me. It had before.

But the ground never came.

I hit a wall instead. Hard. Steady. Immovable. Not a wall. A body. Heat radiated off the sudden form, and it was so damn warm, hot really, against the icy cold running through my veins. It made me want to nuzzle into them without a care about who they were, only the relief they could provide from the chill taking over me. I lifted my gaze—Tristan.

His mouth moved, but his voice didn’t reach my ears.

Ever.

I just stared at him, blinking, unable to believe he was real. My hand wanted to touch him, but I couldn’t make it move.

Ever.His lips formed my name again.

His thick, black lashes were wet, water dripping from them.

Firm yet gentle fingers cradled the sides of my cheeks, keeping my eyes on his face. The pad of his thumb brushed over my chin just under my bottom lip, and I swore I shivered, but I couldn’t be sure. I’d lost control of my body.

His eyes hardened into flecks of piercing granite, and yet, a speck of sympathy sparkled in them. I didn’t want his fucking pity. It struck something inside me, shaking me back to life. “Why are you here?” I demanded, finding my voice.

Tristan studied me. “Because I knew you would need someone.”

“And you thought that someone should be you?” I didn’t want to see either Malone. They were both on my shit list.

His fingers were like an anchor at my hips, keeping me grounded. I hadn’t even noticed his hand falling from my face, but I was too damn aware now. “Given the state you’re in, I don’t think you can complain. Let’s go before you catch a damn cold.”

I wasn’t going anywhere with him. “Get the hell out of my way.”

Nothing about him twitched. Like a fucking statue, he stood in front of me, his expansive hands spread at my hips. “I’m going to be in your way for the rest of the night. Get used to it, Shortcake. Things will go a lot smoother if you do.”

Tristan was giving me a migraine I didn’t need. Tears streamed down my cheeks, washed away by the rain. “Tristan, let me the fuck go.”

“No.”

I tried to escape him, but he wasn’t allowing me to go anywhere. I gave up with a sigh. “Why are you even here? This is what you wanted. What you asked for.”

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