Page 64 of The Villain

“Five. Six?—”

I grabbed her shoulders before she crashed into me, and the way she tensed was like a knife to my chest and no less than what I deserved.

She retreated from my hold and then turned away from me. And the knife in my chest twisted.

I balled my fists at my side, doing my best to stop the urge to reach for her again. I needed her forgiveness, but I had no right to want anything more.

“Athena—”

Her head tipped toward the night sky. “I was imagining a meteor shower.”

“No meteors tonight.”

“Stars?”

I let myself glance upward, my eyes adjusting to the darkness and the sky that was salted with sparkling stars—constellations she couldn’t see.A galaxy of ghosts.

“Yeah, they’re out.”

Her shoulders rose with a deep inhale, but when she exhaled, they trembled. “Did you know we still see the light of a star even after it’s died?” Her voice softened. “I like to think that’s how it is with people we’ve lost. That by remembering them, we still see their light.”

Jesus.The air let out of my chest with a whoosh. It had been two decades for her, too. Two decades since she’d described those constellations as something that needed to be buried.

“And what if they’re just here to haunt us?” I rumbled, not sure why. Avoiding the apology and the truth that came along with it.

“Maybe,” she murmured and then shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she had the audacity to apologize again—like I wasn’t the one about to get on my knees. “The darkness…” She pressed her fingers to her cheeks. “It gets overwhelming sometimes. Like it’s impossible to find the light.”

Before I could stop myself or consider just doing what Icame here to do, I moved behind her and set a hand on the side of her arm, her skin so warm under mine.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know?” she whispered back brokenly. “What if I never see them again?”

I gritted my teeth.Dammit.I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew it was wrong. From the moment I lifted my other hand to when my fingertip landed on the flat of her shoulder blade, I knew what I was doing went against every goddamn thing I’d come here for.

To apologize. To create distance.

I pressed my finger into her back, creating a path of dots in its wake.

“Dare…”

“The Big Dipper is in front of us,” I said, mapping out the stars of the constellation. “The handle and then the spoon.”

She realized what I was doing and started to relax, the tension in her muscles melting as I traced through all the dots I’d just marked.

“And then the little dipper.” I outlined the similar but smaller image on her left shoulder blade, ignoring the goose bumps that rose on her arm.

The woods shrouded us in a kind of bubble, leaving nothing but the rustles of leaves, the buzz of fireflies, and the electric crackle of attraction threading through the air around us.

“And straight above us…” I slid my finger to the center of her back, along her spine, feeling her shiver. I wished I could blame a chill in the air, but there was nothing but warmth around us…and fire inside us. “Is Orion’s belt.”

Slowly, I plotted the warrior in the center of her back, hearing the slight catch of her breath each time my fingermoved lower, dotting his infamous belt right where the strap of her bra would be…if she were wearing one.

“How do you know it’s going to be okay?”

My finger moved with infinite slowness, connecting the dots, because I didn’t want to stop touching her.

“Because I’m going to make it okay.”

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