Page 44 of A Taste of Torment
This time, he gives me an incredulous glare. “Miss Montgomery,” he says, his eyes full of amusement, his pitch rising into a mocking tone, “you are quite knowledgeable in worldly ways.” He tsks like a reprimanding teacher. Or maybe he’s trying to mimic my mother. Either way, I laugh deep and hearty, only a tad embarrassed at the turn this conversation took.
Jarron’s expression turns serious as he watches the laughter die quickly.
“What?” I finally whisper.
“It’s good to hear you laugh,” he says quietly. “I’ve missed this.”
I surprise myself when I answer. “Me too.”
* * *
After a whilelonger of sitting and chatting in front of the fire, Jarron stands and offers me his hand. I stare at it for a few moments.
“Do you ever think about before?” I ask him. Maybe it’s a stupid question. He’s not the one that avoided me for years. The one that chose not to be his friend anymore.
“All the time.”
I swallow and take his hand.
“Why? What were you thinking about?” he asks as we walk through a shadowy corridor.
“The time I got stuck in a riptide.” I stare down at my grungy boots squeaking over the shiny white marble flooring.
He nods absently. I don’t finish telling the story and neither does he. We both remember it clearly, and there’s nothing more to be said. He saved me from drowning, and I was mad at him for it.
Mad because I was determined to do it myself. I hadn’t wanted his help. It didn’t matter that I’d needed it. I’d been trying to swim out of the tide for twenty minutes already, and he’d offered his help several times. He’d held out his hand to me, begging me to accept it.
I was so stubborn. I’d needed to prove I could do it myself.
I was near collapsing, choking on water, unable to keep my head up when he finally ignored my wishes and grabbed me. He’d towed me back to shore, even though he was exhausted too.
He didn’t have his full demonic power then, but he was still stronger than the average boy. I’d probably be dead otherwise.
I’m a stubborn fool. That’s deep in my blood. Something that will never change.
He walks me through the hall and down another. I stop paying attention to where we’re going, my mind lost in thought until we stop in front of a set of sleek black double doors.
“I have something to show you,” he says quietly. Was that a thread of nervousness in his voice?
“What is this?”
He stares down at me, shadows covering half his face. “My room.”
My heart sinks, eyes flashing to the door and back. “Your room?” Why am I so utterly terrified of his room?Because being alone with a literal demon makes you vulnerable.
Part of me still suspects he killed my sister, after all.
Or maybe because I don’t trust myself.
“You don’t have to go in,” he says slowly. “But—”
“Yes, I do,” I answer, defeated. I cannot be this much of a coward.
Jarron’s hand flashes up to my face, and I flinch, but my eyes fly back open when I feel his gentle caress. His fingers wrap around my chin, pulling my gaze up to his. “You always have a choice. Always.”
I swallow.
“If you want to stop dating, we can. If you want to keep your distance from me, you can. I will find a way for you to do your research without me if that’s what you need. If you want to keep this up but not go into my room or touch me or kiss me ever, we can make that work. I don’t care what those people think about you and me. I don’t. They can go touch grass. You and I will only be what we make it, not them.”
