Page 119 of A Taste like Sin

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glass catches my calf, sending me sideways, and I land hard, biting my tongue. A booming crash

doesn’t belong in my forest memories—neither does the icy pain dripping through my veins,

concentrated over my right arm. But I can’t move.

I can’t breathe.

I just wait for the inevitable.

And, like clockwork, he comes for me.

“Juliana!” Grasping fingers clench my wrist, trying to pull me upright. “Ms. Thorne?Mierda!You’re

bleeding…” I know that voice. I think. That person…

No. He’s not really here.

I’m not here.

I’m there.

I’mthere.

Alone. I’m always alone…

“Shhh.” A man’s voice drips into my ear as if to directly challenge the thought—but it’s not Simon’s.

Not Julio’s, either. “Easy,dulce niña. I’ve got you.”

He pulls me upright—lifting me from the floor, I realize. As I blink, the forest disappears, and I’m

back in Julio’s safe house. Rain lashes at the windows, goaded by another roar of thunder so strong it

rattles the walls.

I flinch, fighting to cover my ears or my eyes—anything. But someone stronger pins me tight,

smoothing their hands through my hair.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “I’m going to put you down.” Somehow, he manages to navigate to the

couch and pivots to lower me onto it. “Mierda!I need to assess your arm. I think you’re still

bleeding, sweet girl.”

Still? My eyes fixate over a swath of glittering objects scattered over the floor. They gleam,

illuminated by another flash of lightning: jagged pieces of glass. Part of the coffee table is shattered.

By me. Numb, I look down at my arm, unsurprised by the dark-red substance coating my skin from

forearm to fingertip.

“It feels deep,” Damien hisses, probing the edge of the wound with his finger. “We need to apply

pressure. Here.” He sheds his tailored coat and uses touch to wad the sleeve of it against the worst of

the bleeding.

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