Page 106 of Poison Aches

“Deception?”

We stare at each other, locked in on a precipice that’s making me feel like I might pass out.

This man was once the boy I went over a cliff with during a blizzard.

He saved my life.

He’s the one I wanted to kiss.

The one I wanted to hold my hand.

To be loved by him…

It’s just that, when you’re stuck trying to get over the boy that told you he doesn’t feel the same way for you, it’s like being stuck in a vicious nightmare.

But the thing about fate, it strikes whenever it has your name on the docket.

Just like the cold, lonely night that features in my nightmares from time to time…

“Do you have something to tell me, Angel?” he suddenly asks. His voice soft. Direct. Lethal.

“I just told you…” I mutter so low I’m sure he can hear the guilt in my voice. “I’m leaving.”

Emmett moves suddenly.

He reaches for my chin with his callused, long, deft fingers.

He’s gentle, almost caring, but I know there’s nothing caring about any of this.

My body is now pressed against him.

I can feel his huge virile male body covering me, caging me in, reminding me in ways words never could, that I’ll never be able to escape him.

He lowers his voice to a low, dangerously soft tone and whispers against my lips.

“You left that time too. You disappeared on me,” he says gruffly, the notes of anger clear, sinking into my veins. “Do you think I’ll accept this goodbye and not know that something’s up with you, Angel?”

I think I die right there as the past awakens in my head.

“What do you mean?” I try to deflect. “Nothing’s up.”

“Then prove it,” he sneers.

“What?”

“Did you forget what happened last time?” he whispers. “Don’t worry, Angel, I know how shitty your mind is, so if you forget, I’llalwayshelp you remembereverything.”

“Last time…” My mind starts racing. Last time I never said the words. Samuel just took me and we left.

“Yes. Make this goodbye the same as the last one…” He smirks then, but his eyes cool down to green icicles. “Bleed.”

Inferno.

It’s like my entire body just ignited into an inferno…or maybe this is hell and my warden is this brooding, dangerous, unknown god of Westbrook Blues.

His calloused thumb strokes ever so gently on the underside of my jaw.

“You bled then,” he says in a low whisper that twists me up. “Do it again.”

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