Page 42 of Song Bird Hearts
“You’re letting people get close, people we don’t really know, people we can’t trust.”
“Wolf’s helping?—”
“Wolf’s hiding somethin’,” he snaps, and this time, I do flinch. “And Gilden? You’ve known him what, a few weeks? But you let both of them inside you yesterday like this isn’t fuckin’ life or death.”
My cheeks flame. “Fuck you, Knox.”
“This isn’t a game, Trouble.” His voice drops. “You think this is just some horny cowgirl fantasy? You think the Foundation isn’t gonna gut everyone around you if you make one wrong move?”
“So that’s what this is about?” I demand. “You’re scared. You’re so scared of what might happen, you can’t even admit you feel anything for me!”
“Don’t,” he growls, standing up from the chair and putting us eye to eye. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Then say something!” I shout, stepping forward. “Say anything! Because I’m sick of walking on eggshells around you. You glare at Wolf and you shut down when I touch you. You act like we haven’t been circling each other since the day we met.”
He stares at me, his chest rising and falling suddenly like he’d just run a sprint, that fire stoked so high, it’s spilling onto my feet.
I take another step toward him. “Just kiss me, Knox. If you ain’t gonna speak about it, the least you can do is kiss me.”
He doesn’t move. “That ain’t gonna fix anything.”
“No,” I say, lifting my chin, “but it’ll serve as proof that I’m not crazy.”
His eyes are a wall. Knox has long learned to shut down his emotions. He’s always stoic, buttoned up, locked down tight. He may be burning bright, but he’s a master of hiding how he feels, and right now, he’s giving nothing but perfect ice.
“Kiss me,” I repeat. “Just once. And if you feel nothing, then I’ll shut up. I won’t ever bring it up again.”
“You have enough men fawning over you,” he snaps, his voice like splintered wood. “You got enough people desperate for a taste. I’m not gonna add to that fuckin’ ego of yours?—”
“I want you,” I croak, and his words cut off. He stares at me, and for the first time since this conversation started, emotion flickers in his eyes. Not hunger, not anger.
Pain.
“Stop, Val,” he grunts. “Please. Just stop.”
“I want you so bad it aches,” I push forward. “The colder you are, the more desperate I am to feel your fire. You’re out here pretending you don’t want me when we both know that ain’t true. But I’m not afraid to say I want you, too.” I reach for him and try not to let it hurt me when he takes a jerky step back. “I need you, Knox.”
“You don’t need the likes of someone like me dancing at your feet,” he says quietly.
My heart leaps in my chest, something like hope. “And why not?”
“I’m damaged,” he answers, the pain flickering in his eyes. “Cynical. A brute. I don’t do emotion.”
“I want you,” I say again, stepping closer. My voice cracks. “Please. Just kiss me.”
That gets him. His jaw clenches hard enough that I can see it twitch under the tension.
“You don’t want that,” he says. “You don’t want me.”
“I’ve been poked and prodded for years. I’ve been told what to wear, where to sing, how to smile. I’ve been made into a product and a puppet. I’ve been ordered around, lied to, used. And for once, I know what I want. I choose this. I choose you.”
He takes a step back like I’ve struck him. “It’s a high-adrenaline situation,” he says tightly. “You’ve got cabin fever and you’re trauma bonding with the three of us. It ain’t right to take advantage?—”
“If you don’t kiss me right now, Knox, I swear to god?—”
“I’ve killed people,” he snarls, and the fire spills over. Anger and frustration comes out like he’s been holding them back for a lifetime.
His words stop me short. His chest rises and falls like he can’t breathe, that fire taking up all the oxygen.
