Page 17 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
I push to my feet too fast. My cup tips, coffee spilling across the floor as every head turns. Octavia starts to rise, but I hold her back.
Somehow I make it down the aisle, vision blurring, my legs treacherous beneath me.
The corridor beyond is mercifully empty.
I catch the wall for balance, focus on the chair at the far end, but my knees buckle.
The floor tilts, darkness crowding in, and I know my skull is about to meet the cold stone…
But strong arms close around me.
And then his scent—foreign, yet achingly familiar.
Chapter 5
Arlo
Have you ever loved someone so completely that the idea of being without them felt unbearable?
When every second apart dragged like an eternity, when you ached for their touch so fiercely it was as though you couldn’t draw breath without it?
I have.
But have you ever felt that same love turn in an instant, twisting into hatred so sharp it carves through you?
Hatred so complete that you can picture your hands at their throat, squeezing until the last flicker of light leaves their eyes?
The woman who was once my salvation is now the one who ruined me, who gutted me, who made sure I would never be whole again.
Love and hate, two sides of the same cursed coin.
I no longer bother asking which burns hotter.
Both do. And both belong to her.
To Ophelia bloody Bellanti.
Her face lies against my lap now, too beautiful, too perfect, and all the more detestable for it.
Every line of her reminds me of things I wish I could forget.
She stirs faintly, pale skin made paler still by the fall of her white blonde hair.
My brows draw together. Has she checked her blood sugar today? She looks faint, she needs food.
And then the thought disgusts me. I don’t fucking care. Not anymore. She could waste away in my arms and I’d let her.
Except that’s a lie.
My chest gives a painful squeeze, as if my very heart is mocking me for pretending otherwise.
She stirs again. Her lashes flutter, her eyes open, still dazed and searching.
Those green eyes…
It takes her a moment to place where she is, lying in the hall, her head pillowed in my lap. Then she startles upright too fast, swaying, one hand flying to her temple as the dizziness takes hold.
“Steady,” I tell her, sharper than intended.
