Page 93 of My Lovely Tragedy
“You do.”I fucking knew it.
“It’s just a necklace.”
“Is it?” A finger presses against a bruise, and I hiss.
“Yeah. Just a necklace.” The words are bitter and foul as they travel down and stick themselves at the back of my throat.
Tobias hums again, sending a deep vibration roiling into me. My eyes flutter in spite of my indignation. He finds another bruise and ignites the throb. Then another… another.
I’m panting before he even makes it to my arm—and when he does, my vision blanks out. White and gray blur. Flashes and screams.
Agony.
Elation.
He releases his white-knuckled grip on my arm, and as blood flows back in, so does my thoughts. Gone is the blissful reprieve of nothing and back is, well, everything else.
“Just a necklace you hold like a lifeline.” It’s said with no malice or judgment but stings all the same—the ironic truth of it.
I huff, but I don’t withdraw as I expose the rounded silver to the light of day. It glistens slightly from my sweat clinging to it.
So much fucking steel.
“I need something. Why not the very thing that could save me?”
“Or damn you.”
“Yeah.” I close my eyes. “Or damn me.”
* * *
The water burnsas my toes skim the water. I hiss and pull back, nearly stumbling over. Tobias catches me under my arms, and my back collides with his chest. He grunts but keeps us both upright.
“It’s not that hot,” he replies, sounding bored. I bristle.
“It is when my feet are fucking freezing.”
“Would you like socks when we are finished?” he asks from his place at the vanity, where he’s organizing different first aid things. I’m not sure. I refuse to look.
I sink beneath the water, keeping both arms away from the surface and gritting my teeth as theactually really fucking hottemperature burns its way through me. “As long as they don’t have weird toes, I don’t care. And I don’t like long socks; they pull at my leg hairs, and it drives me nuts.”
After a moment of silence, I glance up, finding Tobias watching me with a weird look—or, at least,moreweird for him. “What?” I ask, raising a brow.
Nothing.
“Tobias.”
“You fascinate me,” he finally says, and I stop breathing. His eyes are bright, the light above shining across the smooth surface of his lens. He pushes them up the bridge of his nose before brushing hair out of his eyes—which is fruitless because it just flops back across. Thick and unruly.
I swallow thickly and turn away. Glaring at the opposite wall, I say, “Glad I can fucking entertain you.”
Hetsks.Fuckingtsksat me. “Don’t be like that.”
“Don’t—” I whirl around, only to come face to face with Tobias. Standing directly in front of me, clad in only tight black briefs andthose fucking glasses.
He raises a thick brow, lips pursed. “Yes?”
I blink. My eyes drop, linger. Heat burns its way across the surface of my skin as flashbacks from the night before flicker in—or more like wrack my brain like a fucking seismic wave.
