Page 194 of Cheaters: A Dark Romance Anthology

I’m becoming intoxicated.

I can almost feel phantom fingers wrap around my throat, teasing to take every drop of air I have and make me beg. Beck’s hot breath on my skin does nothing to disfigure the mental image, only heighten it. He’ll steal my breath any way he can, and I hate myself for being the lamb to the slaughter, so willing to suffocate at his command.

Why have I really come home?

A throne was tempting, revenge was sweet, but this city houses every ghost I ever knew. Vain hope had laid dormant in me, waiting for an encounter with Beckett to find out if there was anything we could salvage from the wreckage, but it’s clear that isn’t the same with Beckett.

“This city doesn’t want you.”

The words are truths I know, but I hold my breath for a second to see if he means them.

“Why? Because you say so?” I ask, grateful my voice carries strong. “You’re king now, Beckett. Do your worst.”

And for a split second, I see every morsel of temptation lance across his eyes.

I know Andreas won’t save me. And part of me prays he won’t attempt it.

The familiarity of being pressed so close to Beck’s body makes me feel alive, but the memories that had been forged have long since lost their colour, and he isn’t the man I knew.

For every jagged edge he had, Beck’s brokenness softened the blow. He may be a spitting image of his father, but Beck would never be Alistair – or so I have told myself. However, years have aged more than his features, and I can feel the soul I once loved is firmly the one who has condemned me, and I’m not sure he’s worth saving anymore.

And from the way he looks at me, he feels the same.

“I could make you disappear and no one would even question it.”

With power comes great responsibility, or so my father would always say, and Beckett is everything he was meant to be.

Formidable. Intimidating. Beautiful.

“Do it, then.”

It’s not even a dare. More a request. An ultimatum.

But nothing happens.

There’s a reprieve between us, a moment’s pause where we don’t know how to react.

So, I make the first move.

I push him off me, leaving him standing as I advance for the door.

He’ll think I’m running in fear, but my impatience is a beast I can’t quell, and I’m not about to change a habit of a lifetime. Instead, I plan to push my way into the London night, and if he follows, then I know there’s more here.

The bell of the shop sounds, but I don’t look back, refusing to turn to see him there, only to be disappointed when he’s not.

I turn into the side street that leads to where we parked, slightly picking up my speed as I do so.

“Not so fast.”

His voice carries mere seconds before his hand grabs me by the wrist, unceremoniously throwing me against the concrete wall of the car park. Air is forced out of my lungs, and Beckett matches our previous stance, his body pressed against mine, leg between mine to stop me moving, hands wrapped tightly around mine.

“You think I’d let you just leave.”

“Well, I always liked to try my luck.”

“This is my city,” he comments, almost too proud of the fact, but I can’t ignore the hidden threat in his tone. “Miscreants must be dealt with properly.”

“Is that what we’re calling our first loves now?”

---