Page 20 of Burn With Me

Her hand tightens on my arm. “Just … be careful,” she warns. “I’ve heard some pretty shady stuff about him on campus this past week.”

I tilt my head in her direction. “Shady in what way?” I ask.

Hel looks up at me with wide, dark eyes and slowly loosens her hold until her hand is barely pressed against my arm. “I heard that the Icari head is involved with organized crime,” she says on a low breath, barely loud enough for me to hear over the chatter of people and music inside the house.

There’s concern in her gaze. I reach over and clasp her fingers with mine. “Even if that’s true, nothing will happen to me here,” I assure her. “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” she says without much confidence in her voice, “the second I stop worrying about you is the second I start acting like Selene.”

Almost as if to prove the ridiculousness of that statement, Selene squeals as she pushes through a crowd of people and dives headfirst into the dance floor. Thankfully, she’s left me alone, having forgotten her threat before we left. I smile regardless, watching as she makes quick friends and an attractive man with a bare chest and animal mask starts grinding against her back. I wait for a moment to see if she needs help, but she turns and grins at him, putting her own hand against his six-pack as she grinds right back.

“The second you turn into a Selene clone,” I reply to Hel, “is when the world ends.”

She harrumphs in reply, but I know she agrees. They love each other, mostly because when the rest of Selene’s family had scorned Hel’s stepfather for marrying her mother, she’d welcomed her with open arms. Still, they’ve always been and always will be two completely different people.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” she says. “You want anything?”

I shake my head. “You gonna be okay on your own for a while?” I ask instead. “I’m probably going to head off.”In search of my target,but I don’t voice that last bit aloud. Not that I need to.

She narrows her eyes on me. “I’ve got my phone on vibrate in my bra,” she tells me. “Call or text if you need me. I’ll feel it.”

I tilt my head down in acknowledgment before watching her disappear into the crowd, her dark slender figure only overshadowed by the black crown of sticks and roses on her head as she takes off.

And just like that, as soon as she’s gone, the crowd around me converges. Like sharks smelling blood in the water, the moment I’m caught alone without a buffer, I feel a hand slide around my waist and I’m jerked roughly against a hard chest.

Irritation flares to life as hot, unwelcome breath hits my ear. “Hey there,” a deep masculine voice says. “Anyone ever told you that you look like a fallen angel?”

I don’t even bother with a response. Instead, I reach around, latching onto two of his fingers and turning the opposite way out of his grasp until he’s gasping in pain and half bent over when I tuck his thumb against his back.

“Anyone ever tell you that you need to keep your hands to yourself?” I ask sweetly before shoving him forward into a group of guys watching with amusement.

One of them blocks the asshole from falling immediately as he lands against him, but the guy that catches him surprises me. When I expect him to help his friend up, he, instead, looks down and steps to the side, quirking his lips as the guy I just shoved falls the rest of the way, landing on his ass with a stunned expression.

Then, as if there’s not a two-hundred-something-pound dude cursing up a storm as he crawls up from the floor, the guy standing across from me puts his hands in his pockets and looks at me. Like everyone else here, he’s dressed for the theme. His wide shoulders are covered in a billowy white pirate shirt and his pants are a worn brown suede. He looks like a farmer or country boy with the halo of light brown, almost blonde curls on his head, but the eyes staring back at me through the plain black mask are anything but innocent. They’re downright sinful.

“Did you have to hurt him like that?” he asks and I stiffen because the second he opens his mouth, I recognize his voice and I can’t believe my fucking luck. “He was just shooting his shot.”

“Yeah? Well, I was shooting him down,” I reply casually, crossing my arms. On the outside, I’m cool as a cucumber, but on the inside, I’m a riot of nerves. There’s no way Isaac recognizes me—not with the wig and makeup … right?

Isaac looks back at the guy brushing himself off and glaring in my direction. “Yes, you were,” he says absently, putting a hand out and stopping the douche when he moves towards me with a snarl. “Whoa there, my man. I think she’s a bit too feisty for you, don’t you agree?”

“You fucking bitch—”

Isaac’s hand turns into a fist as he clenches his fingers into the guy’s dress shirt, nearly ripping a few buttons off in the process. I press my lips together, but it’s only to keep them from dropping open completely when Isaac turns and gets into the guy’s face—that smile still in place, though it grows a bit tighter.

“I suggest youwalk away.” Isaac’s growl isn’t a request; it’s a command. One that makes the man pause and take notice. Despite the fact that he’s obviously bigger and heavier than Isaac, there’s something very acute about Isaac’s smile. Something predatory. Sharp. After another moment, the dude nods and Isaac releases him. I watch with curiosity as the guy turns and disappears into the crowd without another glance back.

What is it about Isaac Icari that, even when his identity is supposedly hidden, he commands respect and authority?

I don’t know, and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to find out, but it’s too little and too fucking late now. The two of us are bound through this thorny maze until we reach the center. I think back, remembering all the little digs and rumors that have been floating around this past week. All because of him.

“Now that he’s gone…” Isaac nods and the posse around him disperses without another word. The two of us are left in the front hall of one of Hazelwood University’s notorious frat houses, with only the sound of music drifting in and gold glitter fluttering around my eyes every time I blink. I stiffen as he moves towards me, reaching down and grasping my hand. He lifts it and bends. My chest tightens and all of the oxygen in my body freezes as the feel of his lips brushes against my knuckles. They’re softer than I thought they’d be. He’s such a hard man to read. I thought he’d be hard all over, but his lips are like silk against my skin. And it isn’t until his head tips up, those blue eyes looking up at me with curiosity and interest, that I finally force myself to start breathing again. “Can I ask who you’re supposed to be, Goddess?”

Do I answer, or will it be too obvious? He didn’t react to the sound of my voice. Maybe I really am unrecognizable in this getup. “What kind of goddess would I be if I just gave everything away?”

Those full lips of his quirk up even more and he straightens, getting taller and taller until I’m forced to tip my head back to meet his gaze now that we’re little more than a foot away. “A mystery, then,” he replies. “I like it.”

“And you?” I ask. “You don’t look like a god.”

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