Page 74 of First Verse

She shakes her head and lurches forward, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. I hold her close, hoping this isn’t the last time she lets me.

“That came out totally wrong,” she says against my chest. “I haven’t slept and my thoughts are all jumbled. Last night was my fault, not yours. I’m sorry for hurting you at dinner.” Tears thicken her voice. “You’re not the dark I’m afraid of, okay? Not even close. If I’m afraid of anything, it’s my own damn head.”

Iamthe dark, though, even if she doesn’t know it. But I’m also a selfish bastard who doesn’t want to live without her light, so I cradle her to me. Soak in my relief and her radiance. Unable to let her go even if it ends up destroying us both.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m sorry, Fairy.”

She squeezes me, then lifts her head. The redness has mostly faded from her cheeks, but the skin around her bloodshot eyes is still swollen, her eyelashes wet spikes.

I’m hurting her.

I need to save her.

I can’t lose her.

“What are you thinking right now?” she asks softly.

I kiss her forehead before resting my chin on her soft hair and hugging her a little tighter.

Hating myself. Loving her.

“I was thinking about you getting lost in the woods when we were kids and wondering if that’s when it started.”

“I think so, yes. That’s definitely my first memory of being afraid of the dark.” She hums. “I’ve never forgotten that it was you who found me. You led me out.”

I led you from one dark to another.

I can’t keep you safe.

You shouldn’t trust me.

All the words I can’t say sit like shards of glass in my throat, but Evangeline doesn’t notice. She ducks her head back into my chest, rubbing her cheek against me.

“I love you, too, Wilder. So much.”

A glowing wave of warmth spreads through my body. When it reaches the end of me and recedes, it leaves behind a melody. Exquisite and lovely and painful and haunting. Bright like her. Dark like me.

My heart’s song as it becomes whole for the first time.

And then shatters.

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

evangeline

Pressure points thump-thumping

Beneath our fingertips

Liquid breath flowing between our lips

And yet we’re still dying of thirst

Rye strides toward Lily and me with his signature grin. “Twenty minutes to go, ladies. How are we holding up?”

“Super great,” Lily answers, the sarcasm in her voice as obvious as the appreciation in her eyes. Even though I’ll never look at Rye likethat,I have to admit he’s extra-handsome tonight in a black button-down and slacks that actually fit his giant shoulders and mile-long legs.

When he finally drags his gaze away from Lily, who looks absolutely stunning in a silvery minidress, I ask, “Did you see him?”

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