Page 91 of Paper Thin Love

I know what she’s doing. The problem is, I should ignore her. I need to focus on my training because, in a matter of weeks, I will have to fight for my life in The Cleansing.

That note changes everything; it also answers the nagging question in my mind. Mila had been becoming so insistent I take her virginity. I knew it wasn’t so simple. It was because she doubted me. Mila thinks I’ll die during the fight.

I’m not sure if her desire to sleep with me due to my perceived proximity to death fills me with joy or a desire to completely destroy her.

“You have one month from the day you receive the notice. One month, Dash.” Cillian informs me.“Did she get it the other day or weeks ago? Everyday counts.”

I shrug.“You ask her.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I snap my eyes away from my little fox and arch a brow.“Everything.” I reply to Cillian.

Does she know that I’m a virgin, too? Is that why she wanted to fuck me so badly, so I didn’t die this way?

It's like a chainsaw is cutting through my thoughts. Slicing, cutting, tearing, and reshaping them into something dangerous. That’s all I can hear and focus on.

My eyes drift back to Mila as if she were my center of gravity. She tips her head back and laughs.

It’s so fake. She’s lying, pretending, and if she thinks I’m going to allow that to happen, she’s wrong.

Standing abruptly, I walk to her table; each step closer, the room falls silent.

I watch her face turn pale, her eyes stretch wide like a bleeding heart trying to continue to stay alive. Her throat rolls as she tries to gulp.

My feet stop when I reach her, and then I give her what she has wanted.

Something real. A mixture of honesty, fear, desire, and corruption.

Me.

I grab her, pull her up, and kiss her so violently that it shocks every soul in the room. She has no option but to react as her tongue slips past mine, hands curl into my clothing. It’s like we’re ripping each other’s souls apart, and everyone is a spectator to our torture.

“Mine,” I hiss.

“Never.” She whispers back with a sadistic smirk.

Was she always this dark and gray, or did I gobble up all her colors?

What came first? Did good create evil, or did evil make good so it could relish destroying it?

She grabs the nape of my neck and brings her lips to my ear so only I can hear,“You took all my broken pieces and rebuilt me, Dash King. You’re the architect of my life. Did you think I wouldn’t fight for our love?”

“It’s not love.”

“You’re right. We’re something much more complicated.” Her lips trail down my jaw as people hoot and cheer.

“You’ll regret this.”

She snorts,“I’ll live off the memories for much longer.” She pulls away.

Her words are a testament she has clung to. She still wants to escape.

This is all we will ever be: a marooned ship trying to escape rising floodwaters. Eventually, the tides will rip us apart, plank by plank. We will be swept away, then devoured by our world until we are nothing but particles adrift in an all-consuming current.

Why the fuck am I denying myself?

I’ve never been the good guy, so I stop trying to be. If my little fox wants a piece of my black soul, I’ll give it to her.

---