Page 5 of City of the Lost
“Like what? Like you’re fucking insane?”
“Yes, like that.”
“Then control your fucking temper.”
He glanced up. “It’s part of who I am, just like your incessant use of the wordfuckis part of you.”
It was more than that, though, and it had taken time for me to notice it, but when I had there was no unseeing it. It sat beneath a tightly controlled facade, a different kind of monster, one sown from incomprehensible fury. The cold control was a mask, and yeah, we didn’t want that slipping.
I blew out a breath, not wanting to agitate him any further, because poking bears was just dumb and a great way to get your face chewed off. So I chose my next words carefully. “I can’t help but notice you’ve been in extra angry-mode recently.”
This time he did approach me, stopping a mere hairbreadth away and forcing me to tilt my chin to look up at him, to stare into his primal, brutal face and trace the scar that ran from his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth.
“I hate you for being the reason I had to come here.” His voice vibrated with anger, and a chill shot through my bones. I took a step back, but his hands whipped out to grab hold of my shoulders, fingers biting into my flesh. “But this world, your world, andyou, infuriating as you are, have become important to me.” A dark emotion I couldn’t define flitted across his face, and then his words registered and my gaze shot up to meet his furious one. He hated this. Hehatedthat he cared about me. His next words confirmed it. “It would ... pain me to see you hurt.” He bit out the words reluctantly, his mouth twisting.
This hadn’t been the plan, growing closer hadn’t been the plan, for either of us, it seemed. My stomach churned, and my throat was suddenly dry. Pull it together, Bastion, it’s not as if he just declared his undying devotion. Then why was there a dastardly lump in my throat?
He exhaled slowly through his nose and grazed my cheek with his knuckles, leaving tingles in his wake before dropping his hand. “Time is running out, Wila, for the both of us.” His voice was a low rumble.
His lips were so close, so tantalizingly close, and fuck, I didn’t even care about the teeth that lay beyond. The cut and shred would be worth it for just one taste. Oh, God. What was I thinking? What was he doing to me? What the fuck wasthis? Heat climbed up my body from the tips of my toes to the roots of the hair on my head.
I needed something to break the spell, anything. “I can stop swearing if I want to.” The words came out sounding petulant and sulky rather than the teasing, light essence I’d been going for.
The darkness in his eyes intensified, and his hand was back again, palm bridging my collarbones, fingers wrapped around my throat. He could kill me now, squeeze the life from me, and I’d let him, because at least he’d be touching me. His grip tightened a fraction, sending a lance of heat through me. His thumb stroked the column of my throat as if soothing me into submission. I caught a flash of torment in his eyes, and then his mouth dipped toward mine.
I needed to turn away, pull back, but fuck if I had the willpower to do anything but accept my fate. The brush of his mouth sent fire racing through my veins, and then, feather-light, his tongue swept across my bottom lip, breaking what little willpower I had left. My resolve melted and my mouth parted like a bloom desperate to taste the sun. A sharp pain sliced across my temple, and my lips twisted in pain.
He froze, his body tensing, and then he pulled back. “You’re in pain.” He peeled his fingers from my throat, leaving me suddenly cold and bereft. “I hurt you.” He sounded matter-of-fact, resigned almost.
“No. You didn’t. It’s just my head. I’ll be fine.”
He studied me carefully, as if he could look into my brain and root out the problem and fix it. “You’ve been having a lot of headaches.”
I blinked up at him, surprised he’d noticed, that he’d been paying attention. It gave me the warm fuzzies, and those were dangerous. Sexual attraction was one thing, a quick fling would be fine, but the connection between us was like ivy, stubborn and tenacious. It burrowed in deep, threading its way through my veins and lying dormant, lulling me into a false sense of control that evaporated every time he invaded my personal space, every time his lips lifted in an almost-smile, and every time his obsidian pupils dilated when they fell on me. The fact that my being in pain bothered him, the fact he was affected, tugged at the forbidden strings of my heart. Things could easily get out of my control. If we went that route, there would only be heartache for the both of us, because he belonged to the Westside, he belonged to the queen bitch. The connection growing between us couldn’t be allowed to develop.
I gently extricated myself from his grasp, ignoring the ache at my solar plexus. “Stress can do that to you.” My voice came out strong, belying everything I was feeling. “And if you hadn’t noticed, we’re kinda swimming in stress right now.” But I knew what could help. Matron’s herbal tea. “Come on. I need to make a stop on the way home.”
Forget the moment, forget the almost-kiss.
Just forget it, dammit.
* * *
“Wila!”Miss Hamilton pulled me into a hug.
The aroma of lavender soothed the throb in my temples, but the reprieve was momentary.
She released me and cupped my face, her lips pursing in a frown. “You look ill. Are you ill?”
“Headache. I was hoping to grab some of your herbal tea.”
“Of course, I just brewed some actually. You can have a cup while I pack some up for you.” She made to usher me into the house and paused, her gaze cutting to the gate where Azren waited.
“Wila Bastion, you’re not seriously going to leave your friend outside, are you?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Azren, who had his lips pressed together to hide his teeth, and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, he’ll be fine.”
Miss Hamilton arched her brow so high it almost disappeared into her hairline. Oops, I knew that look, it was the one that preceded the lecture on etiquette and manners, and there was no fighting it.
