Page 95 of Victorious: Part I

The camera clicks, capturing whatever awkward expression is on my face. She looks at the image, trying to hide her smirk, her eyes shifting to me. “Okaaay, let’s try one more,” she says, not moving away. “And this time, try to look like you’renotbeing tortured.”

That makes me laugh, a genuine one that surprises me, and she quickly hits the remote. The camera catches the moment, both of us laughing, surrounded by the golden hues of the desert.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I huff. Somehow the tension in my body easing. “That was sneaky,” I grunt.

She waggles her brows at me. “Was it?” She shows me the shot, and something in my chest twists. We look good together. Really fucking good. Like we make sense. Like we’re more than just two people thrown together by circumstance.

Fuck.

“You say sneaky, I say pure genius, but potato, potahto.” Her smile lights up against the blissful backdrop, that heavenly glow all around her making her look like an angel.

One I could tarnish with my depravity if I were to pull her into hell with me.

But everyone knows it wasn’t the apple that brought paradise crashing down—it was the serpent whispering sweet sins to an angel who should’ve known better. And while I might be Defiance now, I was born a Serpent.

I’ve done things.

Seen things.

Been the type of man I wouldneverwant Clover to be around.

If I have the power to tarnish her inanyway, I need to make sure thatneverfucking happens.

Taking a big step back, I need to break the spell. “We should probably get going if we want to make that jerky place before it gets too late.”

Clover’s smile falters slightly, but she nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Just let me get a few more shots of the sign.”

Tilting my head, I turn, walking toward the truck. She hesitates but continues taking her pictures while I lean against the truck, trying to get my head straight and my cock to calm the fuck down.

Ican’tbe thinking about Clover this way.

She’s nineteen.

She’s Maverick’s baby sister, for fuck’s sake.

She’s barely an adult.

I’m barely an adult!

But as I watch her work—so focused and passionate—it’s getting harder to see her as just the kid I’m supposed to be protecting.

And that’s dangerous territory.

For both of us.

“All done!” she calls, packing up her gear. “Let’s hit the road.”

With a simple nod, I spin in my boots and jump into the driver’s side, not saying another word to her. My fingers clench the steering wheel tight as she hops into the passenger side, the brightest smile on her face. “Onwards, Presley!” she beckons, thrusting her pointer finger forward with a giggle.

Rolling my eyes, I shift the truck into gear, then take off. The drive to Baker is mercifully short. I keep the music loud, discourage conversation, and try like hell to forget the way she felt tucked against my side.

Or how adorably angelic she looked.

Or how she can make me laugh without even trying.

Stop it, Phoenix!

You’re a Serpent. You don’t want to deliver her to damnation.

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