Page 19 of Martyr
I jerk like he hit me. A million responses bubble up in my chest, barely held back by the lump forming in my throat.
“Tell him,” Reese orders.
I swallow sharply.Tell him?
He’s not focused on Lyssa. We’re not dropping back into thewho is she?question. Reese wants me to address Saint’s last one.
You jealous, Tem?
I slowly straighten my spine. The last thing I should be doing is cowering in front ofhim. I didn’t cower when he was a feral animal trapped in my condo for a year. I met him head-on—with the truth. Or, some version of it.
This time can’t be any different.
“I am jealous, Saint.”
His eyes widen a fraction.
“I’m so fucking jealous that you are down here for some goddamn unknown reason, while I’ve been your personal punching bagagain. And before that, just a few weeks ago, you were telling me you love me.”
Saint’s lips part.
Yeah, guess that one eluded him.
“You isolated prick.” I approach him, and he goes backward. “You could’ve reached out to anyone back home. Jace. Wolfe. My brother.Antonio. Even Malik would’ve been honest with you.”
“About?” His back bumps into the door he just closed.
“Aboutus.” I grip his white shirt in my fist, tugging slightly. “About me and you. Aboutyou. They could’ve told you a million stories of what happened to you between now and then. But no—you come here and terrorize me for some alleged crime.”
“The onlycrimeis my attraction to you.” His gaze lifts over my head. Up, up, and away. “And my guilt for it.”
Ah.
I release him.
Turn away.
We’re back to that. Back to guilt, back to Nyx. She’s still flesh and blood to him. Still real in a way I can no longer fathom. We lost her over a year ago, but he didn’t.
“I told you a few weeks ago that I loved you,” he says behind my back.
“Yes.”
“It only took me a year to move on from her?”
The wobble in his voice shatters me. My vision blurs.
Reese acts fast. His hands slide up my arms, around my back, and he tugs me into his chest. I close my eyes, allowing him to hug me as the emotions rush through me.
I hate this part.
The part that instantly, viciously craves the drugs that can sweep these feelings away and replace it with a rush of euphoria instead. My skin crawls. My chest is hollow.
Finally, it fades. Like a tide receding, the need ebbs away. I take a breath, then another. Reese’s cedar scent is familiar. Comforting.
“Okay,” I mumble against his chest.
“Okay, golden girl,” he murmurs, his lips in my hair.
