Page 14 of Reckless
If I want to keep my promise to Adena, I have to survive. I have to live in order to wear this vest for her.
And I’m determined to do just that.
I mumble once more into the night, my eyes sealing out the world before I slip into sleep.
“And I’ll get my revenge. For her.”
CHAPTER 6Kai
Silver glints in the dying sunlight.
I drink in a flash of blue eyes, quenching my thirst.
Her freckles like the sand surrounding us.
A silver dagger, sharp as her tongue, flipping between swift fingers.
It’s her.
There she is. Just standing there. Watching me like I’m no more than a stranger she’s sizing up. Like I’m worth nothing more than the coins she’s preparing to steal from my pocket.
Like I’m not the man who ruined her life. Like she’s not guilty of doing the same to me.
She strides toward me, the sight so familiar that I find myself fighting a habitual smile, the muscle memory yet another memento of her. Something aches when she finally stands before me, her hands tucked behind her back. I absentmindedly rub a hand above my heart as I look her over, feeling a trickle of urgency for reasons I can’t place.
I shake my head in a futile attempt to clear it.
I was supposed to do something. What was I supposed to do with—
Her lips split into a smile, her eyes roaming over my face.
There goes the ache in my chest, feeling like a blunt knife.
“Hello, Prince.”
Her voice is silky, soothing in a way that sends shivers down my spine. “I have a gift for you,” she says smoothly, smiling sweetly. “Something to remember me by.”
She pulls her hands from behind her back, presenting them to me. Her fingers are fisted around a drooping bundle of dull, blue flowers.
Forget-me-nots.
I start to smile, but the emotion snags on my lips. My gaze drops to the fist of flowers—the same ones given to her on our final night together in the rain. And then I’m suddenly staggering back at what I see, clutching my chest and the pounding pain there.
“What is it?” she asks, far too innocently. “What’s wrong, Malakai?”
I gasp, gaping at the sticky blood now drenching her hands, dripping down her arms. Each flower stem is stained a sickening red, dulling its vibrance, wilting in her palm.
“You…,” I stutter, shaking my head at her. “His blood. That’s his blood, isn’t it?”
The look on her face mirrors mine, shocked and sketched with hurt. “I did what I had to. Idowhat I have to.” Her gaze hardens, as does her resolve. She steps toward me, dropping whatever flowers aren’t sticking to her bloody hands as she reaches for my face. I jerk away, practically tripping over my feet in my attempt to escape her touch.
“What have you done?” My voice cracks. “Look what you did. What you are making me do.”
I suddenly identify the ache emanating from my chest.
It’s my heart.
That’s when I remember what it is I must do with her.
