Page 76 of Carnival
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug, softly stroking her back. No matter what happened, she came for me. We may have disagreements, and I may be a bit angry that she kept everything away from me, but she’s still my sister. Not by blood, but my chosen sister, and I’d never be able to truly hate her, especially not now that she is forced to face her abuser because he took me.
“It’s not your fault,’’ I mumble and pull back, giving her a soft smile. “You couldn’t have predicted this. But I wouldn’t tell James about this. He’ll go ballistic.’’
Aria laughs, and it warms my heart.
She straightens up, and I look at the door. Lo and behold, Wyatt comes in, his hair slicked back, with one strand falling over his forehead. I’d never tell Aria this, because it would make her feel even worse, but the bastard is hella ugly. What did she ever see in him?
Something forms in the pit of my stomach. Something inexplicable, something I cannot even give a name to. Ariaand Wyatt argue, but I can’t hear the words that are being exchanged.
No, my eyes are glued to the door.
Because my heart starts beating rapidly, the smallest hairs on my neck stand up straight. Goosebumps prickle my skin, palms sweating, and no matter how much I wipe them against my pants, they keep producing more. A knot forms in my throat, and I don’t know what to make of all this.
I’m snapped out of my trance when a sound fills the room. A gasp comes from me, eyes widening at the sight of Aria’s face turning to the side. The motherfucker slapped her. Hesitantly, I reach up, touching her cheeks.
Rage fills me, and I’m all but ready to pounce on Wyatt. Would I be able to take him down? Probably not, but it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give it my best. Aria pushes me to stand behind her and gives me the most pleading look.
She doesn’t want me to interfere, and with a shaky intake of breath, I nod.
I know how much she needs to handle this herself, how much she needs to take back her power, and deal with Wyatt on her own. I take the smallest step back, letting her focus on the motherfucker, but silently, I’m fuming, imagining what his head would look like on a stick.
It all happens too fast. In one second, Aria’s putting the motherfucker in his place, and in the other, the door of the basement swings open, and Cove whacks the back of Wyatt’s head with a baseball bat, knocking him unconscious.
But that’s not what I’m focusing on.
My eyes are glued on the door, and the beating of my heart quickens yet again. I’m paralyzed on the spot when I see a figure stepping inside. Wind gets knocked out of my lungs, my breathing getting labored.
It’s James.
He comes straight to me, looking at me. But he has his mask on. It’s filled with blood, his white shirt dripping with blood, his tall frame towering over my shorter one, the intimidation tactic that always seems to be working on me.
I can’t speak, I can’t breathe, and I can’t think.
James fills my senses — his scent, the darkness, the intensity in his eyes, and the way his fingers, which are coated in blood, are twitching by his side. He’s itching to touch me, but it’s almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment forever, eyes skimming all over me.
James is back.
And it’s only now that I understand that I’d never be able to escape him.
29
Rose
My mind is a storm of emotions. Except for the small squeal that leaves my mouth at the sudden way James picks me up in his arms, I’m silent. My heart is hammering against my ribcage while he’s carrying me out of the filthy basement.
He’s so close. He’s holding me tightly against his body, staring right ahead. His heart rate spikes up, mirroring mine, and I don’t know how to act. A part of me is still terrified of this man, of everything that he is and what he represents, yet the other side that has yearned to have him so close for the past two years is too excited to have him back.
The scent I’ve missed for so long has now filled my senses, and I already smell just like him. My fist curls on his shirt, gripping it tightly, and I can’t move my eyes off the side of his face — well, the mask.
Once we’re outside of the abandoned, very run-down warehouse, James lets me down on my feet gently, and Imomentarily forget how to walk. Then, neither of us speaks. We’re just two people, standing almost too close to one another, staring into each other’s eyes without saying a word.
He’s looking at me, the dull, blank expression flickering with something I cannot quite name. He steps forward, his chest almost touching mine, and I have to tilt my chin upward to meet his gaze.
“Hellion,’’ he murmurs, the deep, gravelly voice sending chills all over my body. My heart skips a beat at the nickname. I hate that he has the mask on; I hate that I can’t see his face or touch it, for that matter.
All of that goes to show just how contradictory I’m being. At one moment, I’m terrified of him and want nothing more than to run away. Then, he gets this close to me, and all I can feel and smell is the dark smell of his perfume, with something that is uniquely him, and all of that flies out of the window.
I’m aware that I’ll never escape him, but right now, as I’m staring into those dark brown eyes that only seem to shimmer for me, I make the decision that will either make or break me.
