Page 136 of Visions of Darkness

I let the coconut-and-pineapple scent invade as I envisioned the foolish fantasy I’d allowed myself yesterday when we were walking the aisles of the store.

Pax and I on some deserted beach, our toes in the sand, with cool water lapping up the shore. A breeze wisping against our faces. Our fingers twined where we rested together.

It would be a place only meant for us. Where nobody knew us. Where nobody could find us. Where our dreams didn’t carry us away, but instead, we slept soundly in the safety of each other’s arms.

My daydreams were ones of simplicity.

But I didn’t get that—simplicity or safety or sanctuary.

An intonation of my father’s voice flashed through my mind, distant and faraway, dust that gathered on the horizon before it blew away.

It’s her fault Aria escaped.

My chest squeezed with terror. A dread that clamored through my senses. Talons that sank into my spirit in a gutting awareness.

Because of me, my mother might not have any of those things, either.

Safety or sanctuary.

She was in danger.

I could feel it. I could feel it penetrating all the way to my soul.

I hadn’t been able to bring myself to confess it to Pax this morning, unsure of how to handle it or process what it meant—or more, what I would have to do.

I couldn’t just turn my back on them and pretend as if I didn’t know.

My spirit sagged, burdened with so much. With the hazards that came from every direction.

I hissed when I pried off the bandage Pax had placed over the fresh wound in the middle of my chest yesterday.

It was a wound that shouldn’t be possible.

A scar that I was sure would go deeper than any other had before.

A new question that marked me in doubt.

How had I sustained it? How was it feasible?

The memory of the woman and her child sparked in the spiral of my thoughts.

They were worth it. They were worth it.

I carefully cleaned the wound, dabbing the cloth against the oozing flesh. The blood that I wiped came away in black, charred clumps.

I rinsed, then stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel.

I eased out of the bathroom, almost wary to meet Pax’s fierce gaze after what had happened between us earlier. But I wouldn’t regret it. I would never regret confessing my love for him when it was my truth. I didn’t think that I had it wrong when I said it was his, too.

His attention was hesitant from where he stood across the room, digging through his duffel bag, and he roughed a hand over his face the way he did when he was agitated. Then he dropped it like a brick to his side before he suddenly strode across the floor.

Heat shocked through me when he gripped me by both sides of my face, his hold so intense that it burst through me in a shock wave of light.

“Don’t you dare ever think you’re not everything, Aria. I need you to know that. I need you to know that every fucking thing I do, I’m doing it for you.”

My eyes flitted over his expression. Tension was drawn deep in the lines of his face. I had the overwhelming urge to pick up a charcoal pencil and draw him like that. To trace his shadows. To capture his demons.

I stroked my thumb over the lines carved in his harsh brow. “I know, Pax. I know.”

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