Page 57 of Mark Me

She nods, and her hair falls over her shoulder, a golden cascade that catches the light just so. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for the right person. I don’t know how anyone knew to make a bet out of it. I guess it was a shot in the dark, seeing as I’ve never dated anyone here. All about the books. But yeah. If Stanley had...” She trails off with a gulp.

“Yeah,” I mutter because it’s all I have to say. I’m not good with the words when it comes to shit like this. It’s like she’s handed me a piece of her soul, and I’m holding it, careful not to break it.

We stay there, inches apart, and I can feel the warmth from her body like a flicker in the dark. Our breathing slows down, and it’s like we sync upwithout even trying. The silence isn’t awkward; it’s full of all the things we don’t need to say.

Her hand finds mine, fingers entwining, and I grip back. It’s strange how a simple touch can say so much. We’re both wading into something unknown, and it’s scary as hell, but for once, I’m not thinking about running.

“Lie with me for a bit?” she asks shyly.

“Yes.”

Crawling up next to her, lying side by side, her breath is a steady rhythm against the raging tornado of mine.

The heat from her skin seeps into me, filling the cold spaces that usually live inside my chest. It’s strange, this feeling of being connected to someone else, like our pulses are beating out a new rhythm just for us.

“Are you okay with this?” Her words are soft but clear, tinged with concern, making something in me twist.

“More than okay,” I admit. My fingers trail along her arm, tracing the path down to where our hands lock together, an anchor in the midst of whatever this is between us.

“Good,” she says, and there’s a smile in her voice that sends a jolt straight through me.

I’ve never craved someone’s touch before, and the thoughts of hurting her twists around to her hurting me. Stifling the groan as I think about her using my blade against me makes me shiver with a longing that surpasses the usual kind of need.

“I’m not good at this whole feelings thing.”

“Neither am I.”

“Guess we’re both screwed, then.”

She giggles softly. “Maybe.” She tightens her grip on me as if to say she’s not going anywhere.

The thrill, the darkness, the wild pulse of desire. It all melds together, creating something that feels a lot like hope. Or maybe it’s more dangerous than that—like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing you’re about to jump, and not caring about the fall.

“Just be here with me.”

“Always,” I reply without thinking, because I know I can promise this. She can’t get rid of me now, even if she wanted to. I’m lost to her. I will crave her until the end of days, even if she wants nothing to do with me. It scares me to think that and to know the lengths I will go to ensure she never leaves me.

We stay like that, her head resting on my shoulder, our hands linked. We’re two pieces that somehow fit despite—or maybe because of—the shadows that cling to both of us. The world outside fades away, leaving nothing but the sound of our breathing and the dark thrill that this obsession has just taken an unexpected and dangerous turn coursing through my veins.

30

ALISTAIR

I’m leaning against the wall, the darkness of the hallway wrapping around me like a cloak. It’s late, and the shadows are my only company until I see Ever, her hair like spun gold trailing over her shoulders, tiptoeing towards the stairs like a ghost haunting these ancient halls. Damien left her a while ago while she slept. She probably wonders where he went.

“Hey,” I call out softly, not wanting to startle her.

She jumps anyway, her hand over her heart and stops, green eyes catching the moonlight as she turns to me. “Alistair.”

“Can we talk?”

She nods, a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. No fear, no hesitation.

“Come with me.” My voice is a whisper as I lead her down the hall, away from prying eyes and closer to my world.

We reach my bedroom, the door opening to reveala space that’s more a kingdom than a room. Rich, dark drapes frame the windows, and the king-sized four-poster bed is a sprawling sea of silk and velvet placed directly in the middle of the vast room. It screams of the wealth I was born into.

Of the wealth sheshould’vebeen born into.

---