Page 28 of To the Grave

His face was caressed by both the light and shadow, as familiar as my own because I’d touched that face, had traced it with my fingers, had touched it with my lips.

It was Jace.

Chapter 20

Daisy

“You’re not real,” I said. “You can’t be.”

“I’m real, princess. I’m home.”

There was a beat of silence. A moment when I was so stunned I was frozen in place, my feet rooted to the floor, my mind spinning like the wheel of death on my laptop when the Wi-Fi was being temperamental.

Then emotion rose in my chest all at once like a flash flood. Out of nowhere. Not happiness, not relief.

Anger. Fury.

I launched myself at him, punching and scratching and shoving him against the wall, pushing him back into the shadows like that would rewind the last couple minutes, like that would propel me backwards in time to a place that made sense.

He took what I dished out, standing with his arms at his sides as I landed blow after blow, sobs tearing from my throat, tears streaming down my face.

“What the… How dare you… Howcouldyou…?”

I cursed. I slapped his face. I clawed at his clothes and skin like an animal.

My words became more unintelligible as time passed (seconds? minutes?), my blows growing tired as they met the resistance of his body, like trying to move a mountain with my bare hands.

Finally he grabbed my wrists, quick as a viper, holding my hands in midair.

I was panting, breathless from the work of trying to hurt him.

To make him suffer like I’d suffered.

His eyes glowed an eerie green in the moonlight, and for a split second I thought he might actually be a figment of my imagination.

A ghost I’d conjured. A fever dream.

We stared at each other for a long moment, my shallow breath the only sound in the room.

Then his mouth crashed into mine.

Chapter 21

Jace

I’d taken her abuse because I deserved it.

But now I wanted to be close to her. Needed to be close to her.

To be inside her.

It had been too long since I’d felt her mouth under mine, her skin under my fingertips, and I drove her back toward the kitchen island as I claimed her mouth in a brutal kiss. I tasted blood and didn’t know if it was hers or mine.

Didn’t care.

I lifted her onto the island as I pillaged her mouth with my tongue, occupying it like an invading force as I nestled between her open thighs, her cunt hot even through our clothes. My dick was like granite, demanding to be buried inside her, and I ground against her pussy as I squeezed her tits, our tongues tangling in a kiss that felt more like a battle than a homecoming.

But she wasn’t pushing me away now. Her hands roamed my face and chest, like she was trying to convince herself I was real, like she was trying to absorb me through her fingers, something I understood because I wanted to absorb her too.

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