Page 153 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

He’s a Seer, isn’t he? This could certainly get worse.

“You’re bluffing.”

Lucian smiles. “Perhaps I wanted an excuse to call you pretty.”

“What is wrong with you?” I drop my arm from his chest and take a step back. “I hate you.” He wouldn’t think I was pretty without Aralia’s glamour. “You tried to kill me!”

“And you almost killed me,” he says with a shrug.

“And I will. You know I?—”

Lucian grabs my wrist, pulling me back to him. I inhale sharply. Then I shake my head, mostly at myself.

I’ve held knives to his throat, but I could never do anything of real consequence. And I’m not gonna do anything now either.

When did I become so weak?

“I urge you to say it again.” I can feel my pulse thumping against his thumb like my heart is in my wrist. “Without clenching your left hand.”

The one he’s holding.

“Please,” I say, even though I’m a bit scared that he is right. That I am lying and do have a tell. “The only reason my hand is clenched is because I’m fighting the urge to punch you.”

Then his fingers intertwine with mine, pulling my fist apart before holding my wrist.

“Say it,” he whispers, leaning in close. Too close. “Say you hate me.”

I gulp. I don’t clench my fist. And I say, “I hate you.”

Lucian smiles. Like he wanted to hear it. Then he spins me around and presses me into the wall, the wet ivy slippery beneath me.

“Have you ever kissed someone you hated?” I’m stunned. Annoyingly, obnoxiously frozen beneath his electrifying touch. “I’d imagine it’s not so different from love. The spike of adrenaline,” his hand inches up, his fingers grazing over mine, “the pounding of your heart.” It’s the ghost of a touch. Enough to get me going but not to keep me satiated. “The electricity. In fact…” His fingers intertwine with mine for a second before he pulls them back. Then he picks up my chin like he really would kiss me. “I’d even bet it to be more lustful.”

“Well you’ll have to find someone else who hates you,” I push the words past the lump in my throat.

“Because you don’t?” His tone is so clearly teasing. Mocking.

I grab his wrist from under my chin, twisting it enough to at least sprain. He groans and even though it’s cut short it’s still gratifying. “Because I’d kill you before I’d kiss you.”

“Oh,” he says while smiling. Like I played right into his hand. “But you can’t see the future.”

* * *

I don’t go to the headmistress. I’m telling myself it’s because I don’t believe Freyr and not because my mind feels infested every time I think of her.

It’s funny, I thought I was alone before all this. But this week, with Leiholan not being a liable person I can go to anymore, I’m finally seeing that it’s been a long time since I’ve been fully alone. Even though I was lying to everyone in some way—and still am—that’s how I’ve always been. Even Damien, Elliae, my own mom.

I’m just a damned liar.

I don’t know which word in that sentiment fits me better at this point—damned or liar. I guess I’m both.

My room smells like joints and vesi and Aralia’s gone again—which is becoming more and more of a frequent thing. I don’t miss her, not by a long stretch.

I miss anyone. Everyone. No one. What I never had.

The dreams still happen every night, and when I wake up in hot sweats, sometimes Aralia stirs, but she never asks if I’m okay. At least last night she said something.

She was facing me and our eyes met in the darkness. “You talk in your sleep sometimes,” she said.

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