Page 10 of Die for You
A hand grabs mine and yanks.
I let out a yelp before my arms lash out reflexively. The man who dragged me into his hospital room steps back, palms up in surrender.
The man from the backseat.
His sapphire eyes pierce through me. The dark jeans and hoodie emblazoned with his team’s logo are rumpled and too casual for the intensity in his gaze. His black hair is messy, and I’m hit with a strange compulsion to run my hand through it.
We stare at each other for a few silent seconds until my annoyance reaches a breaking point. “Is this your weird way of thanking me?”
He still doesn’t say a word. Maybe that trickle of blood on his temple was more severe than I thought.
“Is this a medical issue? Do I need to get a doctor?”
He shakes his head.
I stop myself from rolling my eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Finn.” His voice is ocean-deep. So deep, I’d guess it wasn’t human if I hadn’t seen his lips move.
No wonder he doesn’t speak. A voice like that must draw constant unwanted attention and annoying questions.Is that your real voice? Why is your voice like that? Are you sick?God, imagining it alone makes me want to stab knives into my ears.
“I’m Aurora.”
“Aurora,” he murmurs. A chill runs down my spine at the sound of my name leaving his lips.
Before I can react, Finn takes my hand again and lifts it to his mouth, lips brushing delicately against my fingers.
Every muscle in my body freezes, each nerve cell collecting where he touches me. Where he’s kissing me.
When his eyes flick up to mine again, his lips still pressed against my skin, I want to melt.
Until I come to my senses and yank my hand free. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking weird?”
One side of his mouth lifts in an amused smirk. Blue eyes soft, lips plump and curved, jaw sharp enough to cut glass.
I fold my arms, examining him for any casts or bandages. Other than the bandage on his temple, he doesn’t have any obvious injuries. “So are you okay or what?”
Finn shakes his arms and legs. His way of showing me he’s okay.
I hold back a snort of amusement. “Good. I’m leaving now?—”
“Look who found a vending machine!” One of the other Devils strides into the room, beaming as he clutches an array of small plastic bags and granola bars in his arms. He comes to an abrupt halt when he spots me, grin blooming impossibly wider. “Hey, beautiful!”
The Devil who emerged from the passenger seat with a limp. He’s the most boyish one—messy brown hair, bright green eyes, dark gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and a smile that somehow reaches every corner of his face. He drops the snacks on the closest bed, and his smile grows with every step he takes toward me.
Even though he’s just met me, even though he doesn’t know my name, he smiles at me like I’m his favorite person in the world. Considering I saved his ass tonight, I guess that explains it.
He pulls me in for a hug, his arms huge and muscles flexing, his minty scent wrapping around me. Fuck, he smells good.
But I can’t enjoy the hug for long before I stiffen, claustrophobic. He could crush me, and my pulse races with the knowledge.
I step out of his grasp. A normal person would graciously accept their physical affection as expressions of gratitude. Too bad they got saved by the wrong girl tonight.
“Thank you for saving my friends.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What’s your name, beautiful?”
