Page 22 of Burn With Me

She laughs and it’s like ringing bells in my ears. “You’re a man, of course you like the sound of that.”

“What makes a goddessa goddess,” I challenge instead, switching gears as I lean forward and set my half-finished beer on the table. I steeple my fingers together and regard her with seriousness.

She doesn’t react. In fact, she acts as though she can’t even sense my hard gaze at all as she lifts her drink and downs another mouthful before pushing it onto the table as well.

“It’s not power,” she confesses, looking up at me through thick dark lashes. Despite the blonde of her wig and the lightness of what I know to be her natural hair color, her lashes are ink-black like the night sky.

“Then what is it?” I press, curious.

“It’s a willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed,” she says. I wait, something telling me that those words aren’t all she has to say. And after a moment, I’m rewarded for my patience. Aurora blows out a breath, turning her head away. Small droplets of sweat collect on her neck and her collarbone. My gaze zeroes in on one as it slips over the dip of bone structure and down into the cleavage of her dress.

Stepsister,I remind myself.Tool. Pawn. Baggage. Enemy.That’s all she is. All she’s supposed to be.

My cock, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to give a fuck. Needy bastard. Maybe I should’ve let one of the other girls hanging around Paris and me earlier suck me off before this. It’s too late now.

“A goddess doesn’t need power,” she continues. “She already appears weak in the face of a god. No, what she really needs is durability. Perhaps even adaptability—a way to ensure that no matter what happens to her, she can keep going. Keep breathing. Keep living. As if nothing can touch her. Nothing can hurt her.”

Silence stretches between us and she doesn’t speak again for several moments. Neither does she reach for her drink. “You speak as though you have experience with that,” I comment. “On the need for durability.”

Her lips pinch together and the skin around the corners of her mouth whitens even beneath the makeup. Then, with careful movements, she looks my way—lifting her gaze to meet mine in challenge.

“Do you always ask your dates such philosophical shit?” she asks, shaking her head with a quiet, almost mocking laugh to herself. “In the end, none of it is real. The only real thing we can count on is what we can see and feel.”

The fact that her words are almost an exact replica of something I might have said stuns me into silence. Loathe as I am to admit it, I think Aurora Summers and I have a little more in common than wayward, shittastic parents. Unfortunately, relating to her won’t save her. In the end, I’ll still use her.

As if she senses the dark direction of my thoughts, she leans forward, pushing her drink away. “What do you really want, Icarus?” She licks her lips. “Tell me, and perhaps I can make it come true.”

Several emotions hit me at once—many of them contradicting. Thrill. Disappointment. Arousal. Regret.

Thrill because I know where this is going now. Disappointment because I almost expected more from her. Arousal because my dick doesn’t know what to do with itself when an interesting woman sets herself in my path. And regret because I know I’ll do it, anyway.

I stand up and hold out a hand. “Why don’t you come with me, then?” I offer. “And figure out for yourself exactly what I want.”

The feel of her fingers grasping for mine is like a ringing bell of warning in my head. I ignore it, though, because when Aurora Summers—pretend goddess—lifts her honeyed gaze and her eyes meet mine, nothing can stop me from doing what I’m about to do. I want to know what it feels like to walk on the darkest of lines, and I want to see her there with me.

11

RORI

Icarus.Of course, that would be the name he’d give me.

Sure, Icarus was intelligent—a veritable genius, but he was also arrogant. Ultimately, that was his downfall, as it will be for Isaac.

My heart pounds against my ribcage, fast and fluttering—like a caged bird. Pretty and trapped. Isaac’s philosophical words were disturbing. Too much so. His tone was almost poignant behind the veneer of indifference. I relate so fucking hard. I feel like my insides are squeezing me tight, cutting off my blood flow, cutting off my airflow. The world is narrowing down to one pinpoint I can see—Isaac Icari.

Now is the time. The last moment I can turn back and pretend I never intended to get mixed up with him. Despite knowing that, my feet continue forward and my mouth keeps silent. The truth is, even if I were to turn back now, the reality that both he and I are in won’t disappear. The rumors will continue. Our parents will remain as they are. They’ll always bewhothey are.

So, I let myself be pulled past the point of no return. I go willingly into that dark night and even if a light somehow reaches me once again, I don’t think I’ll regret these actions. Marcus warned me before he left the first time that people like us will always attract hidden agendas. I didn’t know what he meant then. I do now.

The thought that I have nothing to prove is the biggest lie people like me tell ourselves.

I have so much to prove. To myself. To my brother. To my mother. And to Isaac.

I know exactly how they see me—weak, easily manipulated, powerless. It’s my job to prove them all wrong and show them exactly how done I am with being treated like a pawn in their games. I am no man’s pawn.

Each second that ticks by makes me want to hurry my movements. Like a clock is ticking down the time I have left. If I don’t do this—if I don’t end this sham of a fucking marriage between Icari and my mother before it’s too late—then…

Isaac’s hand tightens against mine, pulling me from my internal thoughts. His hand is warm, but not grossly so. There’s no sweat—just heat … and confidence. I look up at him, staring at the back of his head, analyzing his outline.

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