Page 24 of Liar's Heart
Oh.
Oh, that slick fucker.
I can do this. It’s just a strawberry. It’s plenty big enough that I can take a bite and not touch his fingers at all. And if I do, it’ll be with my teeth, and it’d serve him right to be bitten.
What if it turns out I like biting him?
This is a fucking disaster.
“I like black. Jewel tones, especially blues. And that peachy-pink-purple color of the dawn sky.” I take a bite of the strawberry, closing my eyes as the juice hits my tongue. Strawberries have always been a favorite of mine, but this one is just… so fucking good. Maybe it's the drugs talking, but holy shit. That’s the strawberry every other strawberry aspires to.
Eyes still closed in bliss, I hear Ender ask, “Are you a morning person, then? If you like dawn, do you like to get up and watch the sunrise, or is it just when you happen to catch it?”
An old wound reopens in my heart, somehow breaking through the scar tissue again. I keep my eyes closed, scared of what I'll inadvertently show this man if I let him see, but I can’t stop the words that tumble out of my mouth. They’re forever imprinted into my soul and come easily to me, even if it’s been years since I’ve heard them spoken out loud. “Dawn is where night and day can be together, even if it’s not for long enough.”
I slowly open my eyes and find him standing across the room, waiting for me. My Apollo, with the same golden hair and bronzed skin as his twin sister, looks every bit as handsome as the last time I saw him. Citrine eyes burn through me, and I'm suddenly self-conscious. It's been eight years since we've seen each other, and while I know I haven't really changed much physically in that time, the reality is I'm not twenty-four years old anymore.
But he is. Forever frozen in time while I age for us both.
Suddenly, I'm violently aware of the fact that I'm only wearing a men's dress shirt. A shirt that belongs to the shirtless man whose lap I'm currently occupying. The man who carved the gaping hole in his chest, stopping my love's heart when he removed it.
The bloody wound in the middle of his chest is the only thing about him that's different, but it's the only thing that matters. It's the reason I married Ender Sinclair today. Because he killed the man I should have married instead almost a decade ago.
A tear slides down my cheek, the first one I've allowed myself in years, but I can't stop it. I can't, not when I have to find a way to explain to him why I'm doing this. Why I'm here wearing the ring of a liar and a thief and not his.
I try to call out to him, but I can't make the words form. Ox opens his mouth and screams, silent fury no one can hear, and only I can see as blood pours from the hole where his heart used to be, pooling at his feet.
He screams.
And he screams.
And hescreams.
My whole body jerks violently as I'm ripped back to consciousness. Panting, I try to sit up, only to realize that Ender has entangled his limbs with mine like a fucking octopus. A naked octopus. With his naked wife. Because I had sex with my husband yesterday.
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat and try to control my breathing. I need to get away from him without waking him up because I'm pretty sure if he tried to touch me right now, I would stab him or throw up on him or… something. As carefully as I can, I extract myself from his hold, making sure I'm clear of the bed before flying across the room and curling up in a ball on the floor.
It's not hard to see what my subconscious was trying to show me, mixing memories of our Binding with nightmares. Marrying Ender was a betrayal, even if a necessary one. One that would be forgiven as soon as I had his heart in a box.
But it's undeniable now that I'm falling for my husband, a complication I never saw coming. Ender was supposed to be a means to an end, the way to hit Alec where it hurts before killing him too. I’ve never held Ender to the same level of blame that I do his father, but he’s still the one who wielded the knife. That can’t go unanswered. Ihaveto kill him regardless of whether or not I care for him. The plan isn't changing for something as fickle as affection.
When I manage to stop shaking so fucking hard, I crawl back over to my nightstand and check my phone. It's almost six a.m. Not long before sunrise, and a fucking sign if ever I've seen one. I grab my phone and head for the closet,throwing on leggings and a sweatshirt before silently slipping out the door.
Walking on quiet feet, I make it to the den and grab my favorite throw blanket off the back of the couch. Pulling the armchair Ender favors over to the east-facing wall of windows, I curl myself into the blanket and nestle into my seat.
The tears have dried, but I still feel scraped raw inside as I watch the sky move from fading blues to purple to orange and pink.
Dawn is where night and day can be together, even if it’s not for long enough.
It's what Ox used to murmur into my hair as we clung to each other, watching the sun rise before we had to go our separate ways. When he'd hold me and kiss me goodbye for the day because the only time we could manage to be together was under the darkness of night.
He called me his moon, and he was my sun, and if he hadn't fucking died, I would have woken up this morning tangled inhislimbs instead, sore and aching between my thighs with the reminder of just how much he loves me.
He would be thirty-two now too. Would he have little smile lines next to his eyes from not wearing enough sunscreen and laughing as much as he always did? How many years would we have been married by now? Would he still love riding his motorcycle, or would he even still have it? Would we have had children?
My phone lights up, an incoming text from Len, and nausea rolls through me all over again. If I could possibly feel any more shame than I already do, it's at the thought of having to explain to my best friend that I've fallen in love with the man who killed her twin brother. It doesn't matter if he was forced or not. He still held Ox's warm heart in his hands while he bled out at his feet.
The same hands I’ve let touch me.
