Page 32 of Widow's Walk

The fire in my eyes matches hers as I snap my glare up. “Do not speak right now,” I sneer. Her mouth bobs open to argue, but I’m faster. I seize her jaw in my hand with a little too much pressure and thumb her bloodied bottom lip.

Something breaks inside me. I am now shaking when I pull her in closer, where our noses touch. Fire and brimstone swirl between us as I try to breathe through the onslaught of emotions. Like a dark tide trying to pull me under. “I am warning you.” My voice is so low it’s almost inhuman. “Not. A. Word.”

Her nostrils flare, and I know she’s fighting the urge to be combative, but she’s prudent to heed my warning, and we ride the rest of the way in strained silence.

The second we reach the estate, I throw the car door open, grab her right hand, and yank her out after me to drag swiftly inside. My vision tunnels, I’m so blind with rage. I breeze past everyone without a word, or registering anything they’re saying, gripping Sinclair’s hand so tightly my knuckles turn white.

We head straight for my bedroom, the only place where I can afford to lose control.

The door slams shut, and I finally release her hand and practically stumble forward. I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating and tear at the collar of my shirt as if it’s choking me. The room tilts. The walls close in.

I peel my clothes off, but I feel no less trapped. A sheen of sweat forms on my naked torso, and my heart hammers inside my tightening chest.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I pace, flexing my hands as they go numb, tingling at the fingertips. It’s getting harder to breathe. The air won’t reach my lungs fast enough. I’m dying. Or am I having a heart attack?

“Are…you okay?” Sinclair’s disinterested tone somehow breaks through the haze.

“Don’t.” My voice is raw, torn from somewhere deep.

“You’re kind of freaking me out here,” she mutters.

Stop fucking talking.

Stop fucking talking.

Okay, breathe.

Breathe.

“Blackwell?” Her voice is closer, but I have my eyes trained on the floor, willing my body to obey me. “Whoa, Blackwell,” she rasps softly.

Her hand rests on my shoulder, and like a fucking shock, everything stops. The pounding. The shaking. The suffocating noose around my neck. Her simple touch brings me serenity. Stilling the storm inside me, extinguishing it entirely.

As the tightness in my chest slowly releases, I lift my head to meet her angelic face. She tilts it with something that looks like concern written all over it. She’s never looked so exposed.So innocent and youthful. All those years of hell she was put through, stripped away, if only momentarily.

She stares back at me like I’m something fragile. Then she lifts her hand just as cautiously to cradle my face gently. All I can do is stare back and swallow down the thick lump rising in my throat.

Neither of us can move as the pressure between us begins to build. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I watch as her poreless skin pebbles with tiny bumps. The air crackles, and our breathing kicks up in tandem.

As time slows, we finally combust.

Chapter thirteen

Sinclair

Our bodies come together like it’s unnatural for them ever to be pulled apart.

His lips are controlling, and he kisses me in a way that is going to have me fucked up forever. My entire existence was for the sole purpose of a toy for my brothers and father to try and break. Torture, abuse, humiliation, depravity, my body used for whatever fed their evil minds.

But this. This right here. This kiss. It fucking ruins me. My bastioned heart tearing open and letting him in. And I can’t stop it. I’m not even sure if I want to. My brain screams for me to shut it down, to run. But my heart keeps filleting, willingly bleeding for him.

The little bit of his clothing is gone, and mine quickly comes off. His body is already slightly slick with sweat, sliding against my skin.

He sits on the edge of the bed when the backs of his legs hit it. Our mouths still fused, I climb on top of him, ready to impale myself. But he has other plans with me.

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