Page 89 of Inside the Wicked

His knuckles turn white against the wheel.

“You’re scaring me—stop!”

My heart is wild against my ribs when he finally eases off the accelerator.

“You’re going to your parents for a while. It’s the only safe place for you.”

“Like hell I am! Pull the fuck over, or so help me, I’m about to make you.”

His eyes cut briefly to me, pulsing with dangerous challenge. I don’t back down, and maybe I even frighten myself with how sure I am that I’ll reach for the steering wheel and take the impact of whatever happens next. I don’t know where these impulsive, reckless thoughts are coming from, but I can’t stop them.

I reach out, and Rhett catches my wrist before slamming on the breaks. He’s pulled down a back alley anyway, but his cool eyes are livid for what I was about to do. I rip my hand out of his and unclip my seat belt. I have to walk off this anxiety-riddled rage.

“What the fuck was that, Ana?” Rhett demands, getting out of the car too.

Night is falling, and I stand in front of the headlights with the car still running.

“You don’t get to give me back!” I yell. My eyes prick, but I will not cry. “It took me a long time to find you, and you don’t get to give me back like that.”

His face tries to soften, but his feelings echo mine. There’s so much pain and fear between us it makes our closeness fragile.

“I don’t want to give you back,” he says, edging closer. “I want you to see that I’m not good for you. I want you to walk away, because I can’t.”

“I don’t just mean since you were taken,” I say, my voice falling. “It took me a long time to find you because I haven’t felt like this before, and I never will again. I know you lost someone once and it terrifies you to lose again, but the difference is, she didn’t know about any of it, and I do. I know it all, and I want to stay until the very end. We’re no different to anyone else hoping the end will be very, very far away. We’re no different, Rhett. We’re owed just as many years as anyone and promised none of them just the same too. So don’t give me away in the name ofprotecting me just because we can see the faces of our monsters. I’m scared too, but I’m more scared of being without you.”

Rhett’s hand slips over my jaw. His fingers thread through the back of my hair and then tighten. My lips part with a spark of wild desire when he forces my face closer.

“No one has ever driven me as crazy as you do. Every new taste of your blooming wild side is a drug I feel I should be horrified by, like maybe I’m corrupting you. But oh, Anastasia, I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re corrupting me, mind, body, and soul.”

“We’re all going to die, and I choose to go by your side whether it’s sooner or later. I’m just really hoping for later.”

“So much fucking later. I still have the world to give you.”

“And I still have hell to give you, remember?”

Rhett slams his lips to mine in a kiss that’s as wild as it is searching. He lifts me onto the hood of the car, leaning into me as if he can’t get close enough. My skirt rides up to feel his hardening cock against my core, and I crave the wildness of how open we are.

Until I remember Rhett is a secret, and it pains me. Otherwise I wouldn’t care who could trespass, likely call the police—I would risk it all for what is blazing my skin right now. But Rhett can’t be seen.

I can’t pull away when I’m practically lying on the hood of the SUV, grappling his clothing like we’re two starved animals.

“We need to go,” I pant.

Rhett groans, but he doesn’t stop his assault against my mouth, my neck. I want him to take me in the car right now, and I’m close to suggesting it when his phone buzzes.

“It could be important,” I say when he tries to ignore it.

“You’re the only thing that’s important.”

I giggle when his teeth nick my serpent earring, and I push at his chest. Rhett sighs in reluctance, pulling me up to him and keeping his arm around me as he fishes out his phone.

“It’s Rix. We should head to the Den before we go home tonight,” he informs me, frowning and typing back.

I tug at his shirt. “Home,” I repeat.

Rhett’s expression softens, but I know it’ll take longer to erase the guilt when he looks at me.

“Yes, baby. Home.”

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