Page 67 of The Silent Note

“Because I’m your property?” I spit, getting annoyed again.

“Yeah.”

“You’re unbelievable.” I throw my hands up. “I’m going to take a shower. And don’t worry. Yourpropertywill be ready and naked for you by the time you’re finished with yours.”

“Grace.”

I blink in shock. That’s the first time I’ve heard him refer to me by my actual name.

Zane’s voice holds an abrasive edge, like he’s pulling each syllable from a deep, dark abyss. “In the casket. You told me ‘even if it hurts, you want to live in the light’.”

Shock stabs me in the chest. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything if it comes out of your mouth. How do you think I’m scraping by in an AP level Lit class?” He steps closer, touches one of my curls and twists it around his finger. The coil clings to him, bouncing around on his knuckles.

My skin prickles as I receive the full weight of his stare. The room gets smaller, the walls closing in.

Sloane is gone.

That’s not good.

“Your job is to be the light.” His gaze flicks away from my hair and catches my eyes, heavy and intentional, as if he’s seeing straight to my soul. “I’ll take care of the shadows.”

My heart turns to a rock in my chest.

I inhale. Exhale.

The sound rattles in my own head, pushing out every thought and stretching time until it’s moving in slow motion.

And thenI’mmoving.

My feet shuffling forward.

My arms, around his neck.

Human beings need the light, but they crave the darkness. I understand the truth of that when I press my lips to Zane’s.

He stands still, eyes open.

My eyes are open too.

I hate myself.

I hate him even more.

So much for standing my ground. I close my eyes and watch my pride galloping off into the darkness, where the rest of my dignity went to die.

My heart drums in my ears, the sound as loud as a gong.

It’s too late to take back what I’ve done. I ease away, a curved finger brushing my bottom lip. But Zane doesn’t let me get far.

He hooks an arm as strong as a steel bar around my waist. My breath escapes on a gasp.

“I really was going to let you shower, tiger, but I’ve changed my mind.”

Impatience feels like a hand gripping low on my hip in a possessive hold. Like a kiss to my mouth that sends a spark between my legs. Like the creak of a mattress as it absorbs the weight of two bodies. Like the hiss of a calloused palm skating up my thigh.

It sounds like heavy breaths, echoing from hollowed throats. Like the rustle of pants meeting a freshly discarded doctor’s coat. Like a grunt of frustration as Zane tries to undo my blouse.

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