Page 41 of Burn With Me

But it’s not. Not really. Maybe he wants to believe it is, but I know the truth and I don’t have the luxury of lying to myself. Still, I let my words drift off and close my eyes as the music starts to flow through me once more.

Isaac holds me against him, but his grip doesn’t hurt. It’s almost like liquid, our movements fluid as we dance together. My mind fogs over as the alcohol I imbibed earlier finally hits me. It’s almost like my body waited until it felt comfortable enough to relax. Around Selene, I still felt like I needed to be on alert. But now … nowhe’shere.

I open my eyes and when I look up, I realize Isaac’s attention is centered fully on me. The shock of his blue eyes and the sharp intensity in them blurs out everything else around us.Why do I do this to myself?Why does he do this to me?

We could be anywhere else in the world—in the middle of a burning building—and I wouldn’t even notice. He’s that fucking hard to pull away from. He’s entrancing. Mesmerizing.Is he doing this to me on purpose, or is this just how he is?

“Why are you dancing with me?” Despite the unspoken oath to stop asking him questions, this one comes out all on its own, without my consent.

His lips part and his grip on my side tightens, until I wince at the pain it causes. Immediately, his hold loosens and his fingers brush over the spot he hurt—almost as if the gentle touch is a silent apology.

“I want to call a truce,” he says, his words barely audible over the noise of the room—the people talking and laughing, the music playing.

The song ends and the bubble pops. All of the outside world intrudes once more. “Why?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t you take the olive branch without asking so many questions?” His lips curl in amusement.

I shake my head. No, I can’t. That’s not the way I work. It never has been.

Isaac stares back at me and then, slowly, his hand arches up and his fingers brush against my cheek. “Every second you’re around me,” he says. “You’re in danger. I don’t want to see you in danger anymore.”

My body feels buzzed and numb all at the same time. It feels like he just made an admission that’s bound to change everything. A part of me wishes he’d take it back, but now that it’s out there in the open, that’s not an option. “Is this about your father?”

His eyes flash and he looks up. My attention follows his until I see what he’s looking at. His friends stare down at us from a balcony way overhead, their arms folded over the railing at the topmost floor. The auburn-haired pretty boy—Paris, if I remember correctly—smirks at us. The other one, however, looks like someone’s shoved a rather hard stick up his ass. He barely pays me a glance and instead chooses to direct the full brunt of his glare at Isaac.

There’s some unspoken communication going on between the three of them—a conversation that I’m not privy to. It lasts for several more seconds and then Isaac sighs and looks back at me. “Come on,” he says, pulling me off the dance floor. “Let me take you back to your dorm.”

“Wait, what?” I struggle against his grip, but Isaac doesn’t even blink. He merely drops down, wraps an arm around my legs, and lifts me against his chest like a prince in a fairytale. I scowl. He’s no prince and this is no fairytale. “Stop!” I command him, smacking his chest. “I can’t leave. I came with my friend. I need to make sure—”

“I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” he says. “One of the guys will keep an eye on her and she’ll be back in her bed before dawn.”

“Are you fucking serious?” I frown up at him. “How the hell can you expect me to trust you?” I demand. “We’re not friends.”

He pauses just off the dance floor and looks down at me. “Do you want us to be?” he asks.

I gape at him. “What? Friends?” I shake my head. “No, I think we’re beyond that. I can’t be your friend.”

My words seem to amuse him because when I expect a scowl in response, he merely chuckles and nods. “You’re right about that, at least. What will it take to get you to leave with me right now?” He’s tipping my whole fucking night on end. One moment he’s reminding me how much of a monster he’s been to me for weeks and the next he’s being courteous.

I narrow my gaze on him. “I want to talk to her,” I say.

He looks at me and then sighs. His arms loosen and slowly—inexplicably slowly—he drops me down and lets my feet touch the floor once more. “Fine,” he says, “but I’m going with you. Make it short.”

I look up at him and when he stares back, he arches a brow, and I know—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that this is as much as I’ll get from him tonight. I sigh and turn towards the dance floor, scanning the room for a familiar head of white-blonde hair. When I catch sight of Selene, I start towards her, shadowed by what feels like my own personal bodyguard.

Isaac’s presence at my back is a constant. It sends tendrils of something electric skittering up and down my spine. An awareness inside of me wakes up and takes notice. I don’t know how he does it, but there’s no denying that he has a way of occupying a space.

When I approach Selene, and she spots me, she blinks and does a double take—pulling away from her friend. “Hey…” Try as I might, it’s hard to ignore Isaac. It’s no shock that even she can’t do so either. Her gaze slides first to him before she looks back at me and raises a single brow. “I’m going to head back to the dorm,” I tell her. “Are you going to be okay?”

She frowns. “With him?” Surprisingly, her voice is steady and though she’s still swaying back and forth slightly—her body moving almost involuntarily in time with the beat of the next song that comes on—I’m thankful that she’s not as drunk as I originally thought.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re going to talk.”

Selene focuses on Isaac and then, without hesitation, she reaches up and clasps me by my shoulders, moving me to the side. “If anything happens to her,” she starts, glaring up at Isaac as she snaps her hands to her hips. “I’ll track you down and gut you. You got me?”

Isaac cracks a smile. A genuine one, if I’ve ever seen one. “Understood,” he says.

Selene squints up at him, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. I don’t know what she sees in his face, or if maybe she realizes that there’s nothing she can do except let me make my own decisions, but she finally sighs and looks back at me. “Text me when you get home,” she demands.

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