Page 21 of The Psychopaths

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” he says, and even his voice is subtly wrong—slightly deeper, more commanding.

“About you, and how different you are acting. With me, and just everything. You disappeared and came back different. It’s like you aren’t evenyouanymore.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Is it?I can’t be sure. All I know is that the longer he touches me, the more I want to let him consume me.

“Change is always good, but…”

His hand slides down my spine, sending electric currents across my flesh. Feelings I tried to purge from my soul are suddenly amplified to dangerous levels.

“But what?”

“This feels different, not like change. Change is forming a new habit, giving something up for a good reason. You’re…like a different person.” And that sounds crazy because he’s not a different person. He’s still Aries, but somehow, he isn’t. “I can’t explain it.”

I can’t put my finger on it, but something is off. Not only in the essence of his interest in me, but his boldness, his reappearance like he never left. Like he never broke something inside me and it was nothing.

“Maybe you’re thinking too much into it. Sometimes you have to shed what you used to be to find your real purpose.” He grins down at me, and my stomach does this strange somersault.

I nod, understanding what he’s saying, but not fully convinced by it.

Even if he’s different, that doesn’t mean things betweenusaredifferent. I doubt his stance on us being together has changed.

“You’re trembling,” he observes. “Is your heart acting up?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” I lie, allowing myself half a moment to lean into his touch. I’m consumed by his presence, every breath, every skim of his fingers against my skin.

I want him to want me like I want him.

It’s all I’ve wished for, for the past two years. More if I’m being honest with myself.

His hand cups my cheek, his touch gentle, and I’m unable to stop myself from leaning into his palm.Am I so weak for his touch that I will take whatever I can get? Any little bit of attention?I hate to think he might take this moment between us and use it against me, but I’m too desperate for his touch to stop it.

His thumb brushes my lower lip, and the muscles in my stomach tighten.

“You deserve better than to be paraded around like some show pony.” The genuine disgust in his voice catches me off guard. He knows this is my only objective, just as his is to become the heir to the family’s wealth and business.

“So do you…” I swallow. “Deserve better, I mean.” I’m tempted to flick my tongue against the tip of his thumb just to see what he’ll do.

There’s no way he can break my heart any more than he already has.

A strange, unreadable look flickers in his eyes at my remark.

“You look like you could use some fresh air.” The hard edge to his tone makes the words come out in a demand rather than a statement. There’s no room for argument, not when he’s already tugging me along with him.

The absence of his touch on my bare skin, only one hand anchored at my lower back, creates a hollow ache in my chest. I ignore the feeling and allow him to steer us away from the dance floor and toward the terrace doors.

The cool night air kisses my bare shoulders, and goose bumps rise like a warning across my skin.Aries notices and shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over me. His scent cocoons me, and I resist the urge to bury my nose in the lapels of the jacket.

“Better?” he asks, his voice softening as we move toward the darkened corner of the terrace and away from other guests seeking respite from the party.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Is this where we talk about that night? When he tells me yet again how much I repulse him?I squeeze my eyes closed and shove away the memory. Do I even want to talk about it? He hasn’t brought it up yet. War wages inside my mind. I’m caught between desire and heartache. Desire for the man I’ve wanted forever, and inevitable heartache when he discards me for good.

“You can’t just disappear and then come back and act like nothing happened,” I say and tug his jacket a little tighter around me.

It smells like him—but with subtle differences.

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