Page 49 of Bake the Town Red

Dahlia was exactly where I’d worried she’d be. On all fours, wearing one of my black hoodies she’d taken without my permission. Without my verbal one, anyway. It was obvious at that point that I’d offer her the world. That was the least I could do after the universe had let her down time and again.

“Dahlia, I’m here.”

No answer.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks and dropped to the floor. Her hair hadn’t been combed. She held a knife in her hand, pressed between her palm and the floor.

Staring at a ghost.

Most days, I’d worried for Ian’s sake. Admittedly, not as much as I should, given the fact he hadn’t contacted either Dahlia or me. He’d been out there by himself. On the run for two years now.

My conscience demanded I cared more. My soul wouldn’t hear it. I belonged here. With Dahlia. Every second of every day, I had to be here for her.

At her lack of response, I dropped to my knees. I kneeled before her face, at a safe distance, yet close enough to reach out and touch her.

Wounded wild animals needed to be handled with special care.

“Little savage.”

A low roar vibrated in her chest. Her eyes were trained on the floor between us. The knife in her hand slowly lifted.

“Dahlia, it’s me.” I lowered my head until we were at eye level. “It’s Tyler. Al’s gone. You killed him.”

The words did something to her. Just not what I intended them to be. Dahlia sat back on her shins, grasping the knife so tight her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were unfocused as she was staring at the past.

Not at me. I could tell that with absolute certainty.

“Go away,” Dahlia snarled, aiming the knife at my chest. Right at the point where new, unfamiliar emotions began to swirl. I hadn’t had them before I left my apartment. I do now. “Go away, Al. Iwon’t let you hurt Ian or me. I killed you once, I can—andwill—kill you again.”

I didn’t say a single word. Didn’t do a damn thing other than stare. For her benefit. So I could make sense of this feeling that scraped at my heart.

This heat. This attraction. Dahlia had always been feral. Always been slightly unhinged, even in her good moments. Watching her unravel was nothing new.

What was new was the need to claim her. What was new was me wanting to kiss her lips. Dive my hands in her hair. Pin her to the floor and make everything better for her with my cock and fingers and teeth.

Or maybe none of it was new. Maybe it’d been simmering inside me for a couple of months now.

Jesus. That wasn’t right. She was seventeen and that wasn’t fucking right.

I shook my head. Kept saying nothing.

“I’ll gut you like a fish, Al.” The fingernails of her free hand scratched her bare leg, breaking the skin. “I’ll gut you like a fish and have your insides for breakfast. Is that what you want? Huh? That’s why you’re staying here?”

Fuck being careful. Fuck my sick desires. Fuck worrying about her gutting me like a fish.

She was losing it and fast. I had to save her.

“Dahlia.” I leaned forward, cupping her face in my palms.

I tilted her head up. She still wasn’t seeing me. In a desperate move, I lowered my face to hers, squeezing her cheeks.

“It’s Tyler, Dahlia.” My bones hummed her name. My heart ignored the knife in her hand. She had to be saved. Nothing else mattered. “Al is gone, you hear? Al. Is. Gone.”

For a split second, the corners of her lips ticked up. Her eyes twinkled.

I knew that glint.

I stayed in place regardless.

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