Page 21 of Burn With Me

Now that comment has him chuckling as he releases my hand from his grasp and takes a step back. “Maybe I am and maybe I’m not,” he replies. “Maybe I’m a human in god-like clothes.”

“Aren’t we all.” I don’t mean to say the words, but as soon as they’re out, I know I can’t take them back. It was my own thought and not something said to draw him in. He doesn’t seem offended though. In fact, he tilts his head and I feel that gaze of his sharpen.

“If you won't tell me your name, then what am I supposed to call you?”

“I think Goddess is good enough, don’t you?”

He laughs. “Fair enough,” he replies with a shake of his head. Isaac holds out his hand. “Then, Miss Mystery Goddess, would you care to join me?”

Placing my hand against his feels wrong. It feels like going against nature or stepping straight into the path of a tornado. Yet, I do. I do it because I’m tired of feeling like a child in need of protection. I’m tired of waiting on the sidelines while the actions of everyone but myself—my mother, my brother, a stepfather I never wanted—hold control over my life.

Not anymore.

Hel’s warning rings in the back of my head. The Icari family and organized crime. Dean’s caution to my brother. All of them are rolling around in my mind, telling me to turn back. Only one voice is screaming above the rest. She’s shouting ‘Hell yes, bitch,’ and unfortunately, that’s the one I listen to.

It’s dangerous, I know. There’s no maybe about it. But I think I’m starting to like the danger.

10

ISAAC

Sneaky. Sneaky. Sneaky.It’s impossible to keep my amusement from shining through. Does she really think that she’s hidden under half a pound of makeup and a wig? It’s a beautiful look for her, I’ll grant her that much, but eyes are like windows to the soul and I knew exactly who she was the second she looked up at me.

She can wear all the gold she wants, and exude her confidence behind that pretty little mask, but nothing can hide those eyes of hers. Eyes like dark honey. Rich. Cunning. Tempting.

What is she planning?She has to know who I am. Or maybe she doesn’t. I can’t quite say what would be more intriguing.

I have to hand it to the girl, though; tonight she has me spellbound. I’m still debating on whether or not I should let her take the lead. I want to see where she’ll steer us. I want to see what her angle is. Because there’s no doubt in my mind that she has one. I hope like fuck she’s planning something naughty—even if that means she doesn’t know who she’s doing it with.

I’m hungry.Not for food. Not for drink. But for her.

After the fiasco with Javi—one of the fresh blockheads for Hazelwood’s defensive line—I lead Aurora out of the main portion of the party and towards the back veranda. "Drink?” I ask as we stop by the bar on the way out where a stone-faced man in a tux and a black mask stands, waiting for orders.

“Tequila Sunrise,” she says.

The man doesn’t even bother asking for identification—no one cares when money buys silence as easily as liquor. Minutes later, with her glass in hand and a beer in mine, I head towards the staircase leading into the backyard and she follows.

It’s quieter on the back lawn, further from the party than anyone else likely would’ve been comfortable with. Not her, though. I bet she’s thinking that she’s gotten a golden opportunity. Me and her. Alone. I find a stone table beneath an open umbrella at the entrance to a large hedge maze and take a seat.

I sit back and tip my beer up, swallowing down a mouthful.Let the games begin. It’s time to see what she’s made of.

“What should I call you?” she finally asks, choosing her words carefully.

I lean my head to one side, watching her through the holes in my mask. “Icarus,” I decide. “You can call me Icarus.” Seems fitting, considering it’s only a few letters away from my real name.

“Icarus isn’t a god,” she points out.

“True,” I agree readily. “But I don’t need godly powers to please you, Goddess.”

“Oh really?” The slight eye roll she gives me is amusing rather than irritating. “Well, be careful there,Icarus. Or you might just find yourself burning alive. Maybe you’re better off impersonating an actual god.”

“The idea of burning doesn’t scare me,” I say. “Besides, what makes a godagod?” I ask. “Power?”

She tips her own glass up against her lips and when she lowers it, that little pink tongue of hers flicks out and licks a drop of orange juice off the rim. The fabric across my lap tightens.

“You could say it’s power,” she says. “But if that were the case, then youwouldbe a god, wouldn’t you?”

“The God of Hazelwood University?” I ask. Yeah, she definitely knows it’s me. I doubt she’d say that about anyone else. I hum in the back of my throat, my lips twitching in amusement. “I can’t say I don’t like the sound of that.”

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