Page 43 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
“I fell asleep.”
The flames flared, and he examined me and my words. I found interest in a spot on the carpet. “Give me a moment,” he sighed, leaving and returning with more quilts. Undressing himself, and then me, he wrapped us up. “Body heat will warm you up faster.”
I secured my cold arms and hands around him, and he lay back taking me with him. “Talk to me, Phoenix. What made you run almost two miles in the dead of winter with no coat on? What’s got you trembling cold and afraid in my arms, my love?” His words were spoken softly, but against my cheek his heart pounded swift and harsh. He pulled my head up by my hair when the first tear trickled past his rib cage. “You’re scaring me, Phoenix.”
“What would make you leave me?” I sniffled, and his gaze skidded across my features. “What would it take?”
“Did someone else find out about us?” He sat us up, and I pressed my palms against his chest.
“No, no one else knows.”
He lowered. “Where is this coming from?”
“Just answer me,” I pleaded. “Take jail off the table. What would make you leave me?”
“Death, Phoenix. That’s the only way.”
“Promise me?”
“I promise.”
I openly mourned then, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. My tears weren’t ones of assuagement, although his exhale told me he thought so. I cried because I’d just compounded my sins. I made a man make a promise he couldn’t keep. And I’d hold it over him when the time came.
That was Monday.
Tuesday
Between the saucer-like snowflakes that landed on my window, the moon that played shy that night, and the lights that weren’t on in my room nor Emily’s, it was by sheer will and terror that I found myself capable of seeing anything at all. She faced the bathroom door tapping her cellphone against her chin, her body in profile to me. She wore a winter-white, silk nightgown that hit her ankles, one spaghetti strap hanging from the cusp of her shoulder, and her mahogany hair tickled the center of her back. In only a day, I’d gone from noting her emotions to taking notice of her beauty too.
In the end, she flung the phone against the wall without making the call. That at least bought me another day, and I’d already decided to live them one at a time.
I went to Sebastian’s and stayed in his arms all night, more needy than ever before. And he made love to me knowing whatever I was going through wouldn’t be cured with words, so he tried to convey it with touch. And his touch told me over and over again, until I was short of breath, that nothing would break us apart. He loomed over me like a large shadow wolf on the wall of my cave, and me the chained prisoner unable to turn away from him, refusing to ascend from my prison. Refusing to see the sun.
Wednesday
“Are you ready to tell me what’s wrong?” Sebastian asked as we finished our workout. “I’m surprised you didn’t split the punching bag in two.” He followed as I made my way through the house and into the bathroom, turning on the shower, and then stripping. “Hey,”—he moved in front of me before I could step under the hot spray—“you’ve been emotional for the last two days, and today you’re pissed. I want to know why, damnit.”
He was right, and for some reason that pissed me off even more. Or gave me the excuse not to hold back. “When are you going to fuck me like you mean it?”
He reared back, and I took advantage of his shock by shoving his chest, sending him under the shower head. “Where did that come from?” he sputtered, pushing his wet hair off his forehead.
“I know how you like it.” My throat burned as the night that led to Emily’s pregnancy flashed in my mind. “I can take it.”I can give you what you need.
“Is that what this is about? You’re upset because I won’t fucking hurt you?” In his rising anger, he corralled me into the corner. “Would my cock shoved so far in you that you choked on it end this?”
“Yes!” I yelled, and he came to his senses, running a palm over the back of his neck before filling his hands with soap and roughly cleaning me in silence. “I don’t need you to bathe me, Sebastian. I need you to stop treating me like glass. I won’t break!”
“Damn you,” he roared, picking me up by my underarms and storming into the bedroom before launching me onto the bed. I bounced, the wind leaving me in a long gust, water soaking through the sheets. “You asked for it.” He pointed at me before moving to the dresser to fetch and throw the bottle of lube at me. “Get yourself ready,” he said, and I blanched. “What? Not so tough now?” The lights were bright, but Sebastian was confident in his nudity. The tattoo hugging his chest rose and lowered menacingly. Anger and helplessness worked as a flint to ignite a raging fire in his eyes. But there was hunger too. I’d match his fever, or die trying.
On my hands and knees, ass facing him, I threw an arm over myself and sent a finger right through me. With the headboard in front of me, I could only hear his intake of air. “God.” My arm holding my weight nearly collapsed at the same time my legs spread wider of their own accord. “Can...you turn the lights down?” I said.
“No.”
My lips pulled back from my teeth and as payback I inserted another finger. My head snapped back on a scream, but his moaned “Fuck”breached through my shout. Wet sounds brushed against my ears, and they weren’t coming from me.
“You like that?” I asked with all the confidence I could gather, twisting my head to see him, grabbing my reserved nature by the throat and forcing it into the back seat. He took a step in answer. “Stay there.” I’d show him that I could be everything—I could be innocent, but I could also be debauched. I could beeverything.My chest hit the bed when I pushed in not one, but two more fingers. “Hah, hah, hah…” My breath ran from me at a fast clip. My fall was symbolic of many things. I freed my hand, my bravado draining from my cup.
“Phoenix?” The pain in his voice tugged me around. His posture softened and so did his eyes. “Help me understand this.”
