Page 50 of Bake the Town Red

“You’re dead, fucker.”

It happened fast. The blade of a knife sliced through my T-shirt, sinking into my forearm.

And fuck me, that violent move made me fall for her even harder.

Hot blood flowed down my arm. Dahlia cut me a second time, just above the other gash, hurting me in that sweet way of hers. More blood poured from the second gash and fuck.

The only words on the tip of my tongue for her wereLet me cut you too. I need to see just how deeply I own you. I need you.

That would’ve been selfish. Would’ve been wrong.

She was seventeen and stuck inside her head.

“You had your fun, little savage.” I twisted my wrist, catching her off guard and dismantling her of her weapon. “But I can’t let you stay there.” I picked her off the floor despite her screams. Despite the throbbing pain between my legs. She was my priority. Always. “Can’t let you stay inside your head—”

“I’ll kill you!” Her fingernails scratched at my cheeks. Drawing more blood. I let her have it. “I’ll kill you a million times until you’re finally fucking dead! Put me down, motherfucker!”

Nothing deterred me as I walked us to her bathroom. I stepped into the shower, blasting the hot water on. It was hot because I’d turned on the heater from my phone as soon as I’d woken up that morning.

“Don’t touch me!” The spray sputtered, coughed, then sprayed both of us. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

“Dahlia.” My voice sounded angry, so I cleared my throat. Water dripped down my lips. “Al is gone. It’s Tyler, baby. It’s me.”

What the fuck. I just called her baby. Didn’t matter. She didn’t hear me, anyway, by the look in her eyes.

“Put me down!”

“It’s Tyler,” I repeated. That trick helped last year. “Al’s dead. It’s Tyler.”

She screamed and thrashed, her voice garbled by the water she was choking on. Strands of her hair were glued to her forehead and cheeks.

And her eyes, fuck. Blue and wild and precious.

A person living in their own version of hell shouldn’t look this beautiful.

“Dahlia.” My shirt and jeans clung to my body. My boots were soaked. I pushed both of us into the wall of the shower, hoping the pain would wake her. “It’s me. Tyler. Tyler. Tyler. I love you. I’m here.”

About five inches from her head, I caught a glimpse of the old tile that had cracked last year. I would’ve fixed it for her. I could afford it, had Dahlia been less stubborn. She’d insisted on leaving the place exactly the same for when Ian returned and—

Later.

Al had a hold on her, in her mind, and I wasn’t losing that fight.

“I love you,” I shouted through the spray of the water. “I love you. Come back.”

She started banging her head against the wall. And I did the only thing I could think of. I leaned into her. Between one head bashing and the other, I planted my lips on her temple.

No more words. No more begging. I just let my lips press to her skin. Let us stand under the stream. Praying for her to climb back out of the hell she was stuck in.

Fuck, that felt good. Kissing her. Wrong, too. I’d never do it again.

I had to do it then.

“Tyler?” A soft whisper. I wasn’t even sure I heard it. “Tyler. You’re here.”

She returned to me. I sucked in a deep, relieved breath. Water filtered through my nostrils when I did, but fuck it. I’d have drowned for Dahlia. I’d have died for her. I would’ve.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

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