Page 25 of The Preacher's Pet

“Ophelia, what’s wrong?” Cain gets to his feet, confusion across his handsome face.

A tear spills down my cheek. “Please, just go. I can’t do this.”

He seems distraught. “Fucking hell, Fee. I hate that someone hurt you.”

Automatically, I lift my hand and cover the side of my face with the scar, hiding it from him.

His blue eyes narrow, his lips thinning. He shakes his head. “I swear, if I ever find the person who did this to you, he’ll be the one who’ll end up with a cut face. I’ll take a blade to the inside of his mouth and cut up through his cheek so he ends up with a Joker’s smile.” Cain mimes the action of what he wants to do, pulling his balled fist up along the side of his face.

He must see my eyes widen in horror as his expression morphs from fury to dismay. He reaches toward me. “Shit, I’m so sorry. That was too much.”

I shake my head, unable to cope with him being so angry. He scares me this way. Men do when they get angry because I know bad things can happen. “Please, just go, Cain.”

I’m scared but also mortified at my reactions to everything that’s happening. I know I’m acting like an idiot, but I can’t help the way I feel, and I still find it hard to regulate my emotions and my responses. Right now, I want Cain to go and let me have some time to decompress.

“Can I at least take your cell number? I’d really like us to stay in touch.”

I can give him that much. I take my phone out of my pocket, pull up the contact I have set as ‘me,’ and hand it to him.

He flashes me a tiny smile. “Thanks.” He copies the number into his own phone and drop calls mine. “So you have my number, too,” he explains. “In case you need it.”

He hands me the phone back, and I nod. “Thank you.”

My cheeks and chest are flushed with heat, and I know I must be glowing. It’s one problem with being so pale—when I’m embarrassed, I light up like a red bulb. I also know that it makes my scar stand out more than normal. And on top of that, I still hearhisvoice, speaking as though he’s standing right behind me, whispering in my ear. Who am I trying to kid by thinking I can come somewhere like Verona Falls and fit in with all the other students? I’m a complete freak, and everyone will find outabout it. The longer I stay, the more people will see the real me, and they won’t like her.

I can see it now in Cain’s eyes as he slowly backs away from me, his hands raised, then he turns and leaves.

14

CAIN

Goddamn it.

I only make it a few paces down the hallway before I swing my fist and connect it with the nearest wall. Pain bursts through my knuckles and races up my arm, and I take pleasure in it. The plaster where my fist impacted the wall has cracked a little, but it won’t be noticeable unless someone were to point it out. The walls of Verona Falls are thick and solid, and it would take more than a punch to do damage.

I’ve pushed her too far. She said she didn’t want to talk about what happened to her, and I hadn’t listened. I’d touched her face and been transported back to when we were kids. I remember how feisty she had been, how fearless, and now she’s an imitation of that person. It’s like someone has taken over Ophelia’s body and left a ghost of a different girl inside her.

The door next to the wall I’d hit opens, and a male head pokes out. “What the fuck, dude?” the guy says.

I lunge at him with a roar, balling my shoulders and clenching my fists. He darts back, his eyes wide, and quickly slams the door shut again.

“Good choice,” I growl.

I’m in the mood to hurt someone. I’m frustrated that Ophelia hasn’t opened up to me about what happened to her. There’s a burning need to know her truth, which is building inside me every damn minute. She’d been my anchor and then she’d simply disappeared. Now she’s here; what are the odds? But instead of it being a joyful reunion between us, it’s tense and strange. She’s a shell of the vibrant girl she once was, and I hate that. I need to know why she’s changed so much. Where the hell has she been for the past six years?

It occurs to me that I could contact her parents and ask them directly. How would they react if I did? Would they tell me? Or would they whisk her straight out of Verona Falls if they knew I was here, too?

I remember the last time I saw Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, how Mrs. Sinclair had broken down, and Mr. Sinclair had yelled. I’d just been a skinny kid back then, and they’d been overwhelmed with grief. Maybe they’d treat me differently now, but is it really worth the risk of losing her all over again?

No, it isn’t.

Besides, it would be wrong of me to go behind Ophelia’s back.

She’s still so beautiful, even with the scar, or perhaps even because of it. There’s always been something ethereal about her. Now she’s scarred, it makes her more human. Her scar tells at least a part of the story about who she is now, and she shouldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed.

From the first moment I saw her at the party, she’s been the only thing on my mind. She’s constantly in my thoughts, and I can’t see that changing any time soon. I’d loved her as a child, and now we’re back in each other’s lives as adults, I’m starting to wonder if that love never went away. It feels different, though, more protective, and with something darker at its core. I can’texamine that too closely because I don’t like the idea of anything dark between my Angel and me.

Ophelia said she’d met Malachi, too. Mal hasn’t mentioned it to me, and I wonder at the reason behind his silence. Has she caught his attention in the same way she has mine? The same way she has Romans?

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