Page 82 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

I walk to the dead body, but I can’t take my eyes away from his. They’re open wide, staring into the sky but not seeing. I think I’m going to puke, but I force myself not to.

How am I going to pull him into the lake if I can’t pull myself together?

Grabbing the body by the feet, I try to walk to the lake and end up almost screaming from the pressure against my shoulder. Suddenly it’s really hard to get any air in my lungs, even though I am breathing.

Then I hear someone’s footsteps, coming closer and closer. Letting go of his feet quickly, I run behind a tree. Then I spot the dagger Aralia gave me, sitting really close to the dead body.

Screwed, that’s what I am. I’m screwed.

When the person’s features come into view, I realize just how screwed I might be. Lucian picks up my dagger, certainly knowing it’s mine.

He knows entirely too much. It doesn’t matter what he thinks about me, whether or not he calls me darling or why. I have to level the playing field, somehow. He knows about my mom, my sorry excuse for magic, and now about this murder. All while I know nothing, nothing I could use against him if it came down to it.

I carefully move out from behind the tree and hold a blade to his throat. The pain shoots through my shoulder even though I’m using the opposite arm, and I bite my tongue so hard I draw blood. I can’t scream now, I have to appear strong.

“One word about this to anyone and I’ll slit your throat.” But doing this now, after what he’s said, what I’ve felt, doesn’t feel right. It feels worse than not right, it feels entirely wrong.

I think about how I last saw him. He was lying on the floor of the suite, drenched in sweat with eyes glossed over in a way that reminds me of the dead man at our feet. I was so gentle then, gentle the way I never want to be, gentle in the way that makes you weak.

Lucian looks down at my blade and outstretched arm. “With a letter opener?” he says with a laugh. I force the shock of his reaction away. He was just lying there, dying on my floor, and now he’s laughing at my blade.

I don’t get him at all.

I scowl. “I’ll make it work.” Then something wraps around the blade, pulling it from my hand. Shadows.

“I’ll give back your toy when you’re a little less murderous.” He makes a very pointed look at the dead man.

“He was going to kill me!” I emphasize quietly.

“Okay,” he says with a small shrug.

“You believe me, right?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I shrug in my best attempt to act as if I’m not scared beyond my wits end. “Well I’d just burn you then. If you’re thinking of saying anything.” I clench my jaw and raise an eyebrow in defense, but stars are starting to cloud my vision, and I’m not entirely sure I’m standing up.

“You’re more violent than I anticipated.”

I’m going to say… something, but most of my energy is being spent trying to keep my head upright. The stars are filling my vision fast now. They’re brighter than the shadows that stole my vision before. It looks closer to day than night. Suddenly, I’m sure I’m going to pass out.

Lucian is next to me when he asks, “What happened?”

My head tips to the side and my legs lose their muscle. I’m falling. But something catches me. It’s Lucian’s arms that are around my waist, gently lowering me to the ground. I’d know this feeling anywhere.

My eyes lull back and forth and I try to hold onto the world, but the feeling of floating into unconsciousness is so much more appealing.

It’s Lucian’s hands moving across my body, pulling my energy to his touch, that is keeping me awake. They move up my legs first, around my hips, to my waist, and stop at my shoulder. I hear the tearing of fabric and feel the cold air brush my flushed body and skin. I shudder.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, but he sounds so far away. Like either he’s flying, or I am.

Then I’m screaming when something cold and wet moves into my opened flesh.

“It’s alright,” he whispers. “You can scream.”

I don’t want to scream, I want to sleep. I do. I fall further and further down into darkness…

“Marquees?” I think I am shaking. “Marquees!” The name that isn’t mine echoes. “Come on, Des, wake up!” My face is certainly shaking. It doesn’t feel like mine.

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