Page 20 of The Girl With Violet Eyes

No one has ever bothered to ask me before.

He brushes his thumb over the back of my hand, and his eyes darken in a way that has nothing to do with anger. I can all but taste the words he's biting back.

I think I can guess what he wants.

He tugs on my hand, and I shift on his bed beside him as he pulls me toward him. He turns to me, guiding me onto his lap, and I straddle him, wrapping my legs around him and letting my limbs naturally follow his movements. I'm painfully aware of the towel hanging from his hips, shivering at our closeness.

He drapes my hand around his neck, his gaze trained on mine the entire time. He's warm against me, a few lingering droplets clinging to his tan skin. My pulse quickens, a flush spreading under my cheeks and lower in my body. His eyes flicker down from mine and linger on my lips, and I feel my breath quicken. His attention moves further down and he leans forward, burying his face in the nook between my neck and shoulder.

His mouth grazes over my skin, hot and silky. His lips part, and I tilt my head back, melting and swaying under his attention as he kisses my neck. Both of my hands are wrapped around the back of his neck now, my fingers tangling in his silky chestnut hair.

I nearly gasp as he drags his teeth gently against my skin, my toes curling, but then the pain returns.

There's a burning sort of cold in my chest, sharp as an icy blade over my heart, and everything inside me stiffens in a sudden flare of fear. I pull back, palms pressed against his bare chest as I push Tristan away, sucking in air as I struggle to breathe through the stinging.

"What?" he asks, but I can't bring myself to look at him. "What is it?"

I'm shaking slightly as I crawl off his lap, untangling myself from him. He makes no effort to hold me back, but he clenches his jaw as I stagger away from him.

"I- I can't..." I manage.

"I would never have forced you to leave with me, but you did agree to it," he says, strained and impulsive. "The moment I met you, I gave you a choice, but if you're going to refuse me, then you should have just rejected me."

"I should go," is all I can muster up. My head is spinning as the freezing ache in my chest recedes, and before he can reply, I stumble toward the door, bolting out of his room.

I make my way back to my room, too dizzy and sore to process what the hell just happened. I close the door behind me and throw myself onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow. After a moment of silence in the blackness of the empty room, and roll over, scratching the crescent birthmark under my collarbone and staring at the ceiling while my heartbeat slows back down.

I don't remember at what point the pain faded. I don't remember crawling under the covers and falling into a dreamless, fitful slumber. But one way or the other, sleep crashes over me, and nighttime washes away the mixed emotions of the day.

****

The next morning, when sunlight streams in through the glass doors, I have to drag myself to consciousness, straining against the urge to let my aching bones melt into the bed. There's a metallic aftertaste in my mouth that lingers even when Lucy comes to fetch me for breakfast.

I sit with her and Nico on the veranda, drinking fresh squeezed orange juice and savoring a buttery croissant. No sign of Tristan.

Even if I did see him, I'm not sure I'd know what to say. How can I explain what happened last night when I don't even understand it myself?

For a second, it seemed like we were dangerously close to crossing a line I can't quite define. As I smear jam onto the croissant while Lucy talks about the bakery downtown, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn't felt that strange stinging in my chest.

For the first time in my life, someone asked me what I want... but what if I want what I can't have?

Chapter Nineteen

"Lovers' quarrel?" Lucy asks suddenly, jolting me out of my thoughts.

I turn to look at her with widening eyes. "Sorry?"

She sips her coffee, exchanging meeting Nico's curious expression with an innocent shrug. "What? You're always quiet, and Tristan's always broody, but this morning when he went downtown with Mark and Amara, he seemed a little extra on edge. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that, would you, flower?" she says.

I'm not sure if I'm more stunned by her remark or the casual familiarity of the nickname. "I- I don't- I'm not-" I stutter.

"I'm sure it's no one's fault," Nico chimes in, rescuing me from my flustered muttering. "This whole situation is understandably complicated. I mean, none of us ever expected Tristan to get tangled up with the mating bond, so it's only natural that he's a little moody about it."

Lucy turns to Nico sharply, sucking in a breath in a warning hiss. He's let something slip. Something I'm not supposed to know.

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying not to sound too obviously intrigued.

"Nothing," Nico says quickly, seemingly realizing his mistake. Lucy shoots him a disapproving glare. But it's too late. I'm not sure what or why, but he's brushed by a sore subject, and I suspect from the way Lucy is frowning that it has something to do with me.

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