Page 19 of Velvet Thorns
He turns to face me, his body angled just enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “I’m Phoenix, by the way.”
“I know who you are. Everyone did.”
“And you are?”
“Annie.”
“Annie…” He turns the name over like he’s trying to fit it into a puzzle that’s missing half the pieces. Then he lets out a soft, almost apologetic laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”
I force down the bitterness rising in my throat. “It’s fine. I expect I’ll hear that more than oncetonight.”
He shakes his head, disbelief written all over that annoyingly perfect face. “I doubt that.”
Ugh. Fuck off.
God, the fact that he’s being nice makes me want to scream. It actually makes me hate him more, if that’s even possible.
How can he speak to a stranger with more kindness than he showed me in our final months? How can he offer “Annie” a softness he never gave me? It’s almost worse than if he’d been cruel. At least cruelty would make sense.
I should never have come back here, not when it’s so fucking obvious I’m nowhere near over any of it. I’m not healed, not put together, not even close.
It's pathetic really.
He orders another drink—still just water, the control freak—and then pushes away from the bar like he’s done with this conversation.
“Nice meeting you, Annie.”
And just like that, he turns his back on me and walks away.
But that’s fine, because by the time I’m done, Phoenix Cassidy is going to wish he had never spoken to me tonight. He’s going to wish I stayed dead and buried in his past, right where he left me.
Chapter 5
SHANNEN
I straighten up slowly,letting the stretch of my spine unfurl as I glide through the room like I own it. No matter how many bodies fill the space between us, I know exactly where Phoenix is. I don’t have to see him. I can feel his gaze crawling over my skin. He’s drawn to me even if he doesn’t understand why yet, and there’s something possessive in the way he watches me that makes my pulse stutter.
I let my eyes drift to him every so often, and when I do, he’s already watching.Always watching.His eyes pin me in place across the room like the arrogant, magnetic bastard he’s always been—never the first to look away. It’s suffocating in the best, most infuriating way possible.
Every step I take is intentional, calculated to drive him just a little more out of his mind with need. Every tilt of my head, every brush of my fingers against my throat, every time I bite my lip until it’s flushed a deeper shade of red—all of it is designed to make him feel something. I want him to think this is his game, that he’s the hunter circling his prey. Let him believe he’s the one in control andthat I’m just some pretty thing too dazzled by his perfect face to even think about telling him no, when in reality, he won’t lay a single traitorous hand on me unless I allow it.
I’m halfway through my second drink when a guy approaches. He’s tallish, has an average build, and maybe a little softer around the edges than he used to be. I recognize the face, vaguely. Ryan, I think it is. He’s not unattractive but forgettable in a way that makes me think I could chew him up and spit him out without so much as smudging my lipstick.
“Hey, sorry, but… were we in a class together?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous laugh that makes me want to ruffle his blond hair and send him on his way. “I can’t recall your name, but you look familiar.”
Seems to be the fucking theme of the night.
“Annie,” I offer, flashing him a small smile. “And honestly, I blacked out most of high school. It wasn’t exactly a good time for me.”
He nods, sympathy etched in every awkward line of his face. “I get that. I got flushed down a toilet once by that dickhead Brandon Michaelson.” I burst out laughing, and it’s real—the first honest laugh of the night.
“God, he really was a walking piece of shit,” I say, shaking my head as I shove the memories back into the darkest corners of my mind where they belong.
Before Ryan can get another word out, Phoenix’s voice slices through the moment. “Can I interrupt?”
“No,” I snap, not even glancing at him, turning my back so hard it’s almost theatrical.
Phoenix might think he can just slide in and take what he wants, but he doesn’t get to have me—not my time, not my attention, not one fucking ounce of power—unless I hand it over.
