Page 83 of Resist

Their words filled my ears, spun in my mind, wrecked my soul. It was every nightmare I ever had, brought to life from one breath to the next. I watched as they gaped at me. They pointed, they stared, they sneered, they crumpled their faces in nauseating disgust. And not one of them looked at me with empathy. Not one of them stepped forward to help.

I felt it. I felt as my body trembled under the weight of their judgmental stares. I felt as my heart pounded in my chest, my breath too short, too shallow. Dizziness swept through me as the world closed in. And I was desperate and scared and hurt and ashamed and it was all just too much, too fast. I couldn’t do this. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth being shamed and humiliated. It wasn’t worth having everyone look down on you like you were worthless. Like you were something repulsive…something to be destroyed. Marissa’s warning mocked me.

If people see any part of you as broken…they will destroy you.

But what if you were already broken? What if there was little left of you, and what was left was nothing more than a shadow ofthe person you were meant to be? What if…what if I was already shattered?

Worthless.

My chest heaved as I reached to the floor, picking up the mockingly beautiful wrap to cover my shame. As I stood up, I couldn’t help it anymore. The tears flooded my vision and fell down the curves of my cheeks. I gripped the useless fabric and carefully slipped it back over my shoulders, covering myself as a sob escaped me.

I couldn’t…I couldn’t do it anymore.

Iwasbroken.

And just as I thought I would crumble under the critical glares of the crowd, I heard a soft, compassionate sound in my ear—him.

“Stay with me, Mara.” The warmth of his voice caused me to take a desperate breath. And suddenly, Wes was in front of me, filling my vision. I felt the heat of his body so close to mine. The tender caress of his hands as they cupped my cheeks, guiding my face to his, keeping my focus on him. “Stay with me,” he whispered again. I met his eyes then, drawn into the golden amber, alive and swirling, pulling me into their depths. And when I did, everything inside of me seized. Wes’s hazel eyes held me captive, and I allowed myself to be his prisoner, giving into the hunger and longing that flickered within. “Stay with me,” he repeated gingerly once more.

My lips parted as my breath slowed, and the world blurred into nothing more than color and lights. His hands drifted down my neck, and then…he sent the shawl falling off my shoulders, back to the ground.

My breath hitched. “But—” I breathed out, the fear and desperation clawing back up my throat. “They’ll see.”

Wes never took his eyes off me. “Let them,” he whispered back. “Let them all see. Trust me.”

I could barely breathe as Wes took slow steps, slowly circling around behind me. His hand traveled from my shoulder, grazing the landscape of my back. Fervent, gentle fingers feathered the rise and fall of my past…never hesitating, never halting. Just slow, intimate caresses as I stood there, doing my best to remain tall, to trust him.

I watched as the room held a collective breath as he stopped behind me. Both his hands came to rest on my hips, drawing me toward him as his lips grazed my ear. His breath fell over the skin of my neck, across the supple flesh of my shoulder, until it stopped. With tender slowness, he placed one feathered kiss on my shoulder, making sure his lips grazed one of my scars, scorching my skin and stealing my breath.

It was a war inside of me, so many emotions erupting within. To have him touch my fragile skin, kiss the scars of my past…I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what tofeel. But the riot inside was climbing. The fevered intensity of every sensation Wes ever made me feel, filled me to the brim.

Wes continued his circle around me, his eyes meeting mine once again. My poor heart raced as the heat swirled like the inferno of the sun, threatening to burn me alive, and my lungs begged for breath I could not give them as Wes slowly slipped down onto one knee.

Oh my god.

“Mara,” he began, his voice steady, firm, and deep. “I see all of you. I see all that you were and all that you are. I’ve seen your past, and now I ask to be your future.”

Oh my ever-loving god.

Wes reached into his pocket and pulled out a platinum ring with a oval hazel-colored gem resting between two smaller white diamonds. This wasn’t his grandmother’s ring. This was something completely different—beautiful—and morebreathtaking than anything I could ever imagine. Taking my left hand, he held up the ring in the other.

“Mara,” he paused, and I felt my chest tighten. “Stay with me?”

The world held its breath as time stood still. I looked into Wes’s eyes and every memory I shared with him flooded through me. Every moment of hidden desire. Every second wanting, longing for him. All of it crowned by this one moment in time. My lips parted, a word hanging on the tip of my tongue, but the fear…the fear that maybe I wasn’t worth it gave me pause. My eyes met his, and I swore I could see his soul in the depths of his eyes. I heard his voice break through my doubt, echoing in my consciousness.

Stay with me.

And then the fog cleared, and breath finally entered my desperate lungs, deep and satisfying. I said the only thing that made sense.

“Always.”

45: Not Anymore

Taking my left hand, Wes slipped the silvery band onto my finger, and I watched as the stones glimmered, catching the light. The room broke out into applause, but I didn’t care. Their cheers were empty, superficial, shallow. They didn’t really care that the girl they had just judged was now the betrothed of the First Son. They applauded out of custom, out of expectation, and I had no doubt that questions and confusion riddled their minds. Their act was nothing more than noise in the background to me. I just focused on Wes, his eyes speaking a thousand words that I had somehow failed to understand. A smile crossed his lips as he stood. His eyes never left mine as he pulled me closer, his hands rising to cup my cheeks, his thumbs gently brushing away the trails of my tears. My heart raced as the blaze in Wes’s eyes consumed me, and he drew my face to his. His nose touched mine—a loving, playful touch. Then he waited…letting the ache build up within me. Desperation rose once again, but this time, for Wes to kiss me.

I drew up my hand, grabbing the lapel of his tux, pulling him toward me as my lips parted. But he resisted me, waiting. I searched his eyes, and I saw the vulnerability, his fear that maybe I would reject him. That maybe…maybe I didn’t want him, and this was just all part of the show, part of the facade we had been forced to play.

As if to confirm my suspicions, Wes let out a slow, shuddered breath as he whispered, “May I?”

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