Page 133 of Twisted Ties
“Twenty,” she corrects.
“He’s twice your age.”
“He’s not, and I didn’t have much say in the process.”
The monster inside me roars and I feel my bones begin to snap. “He forced you,” we say together.
Her eyes widen in horror and I stumble back from her, closing my eyes and struggling to contain it.
“What’s wrong with him?” I hear her say.
“Nothing,” Tristan says, his voice retaining that bored tone, “just revolted by your confession, and the thought that anyone would want to be with a girl like you.”
Her attention snaps back to him. “Your cousin does.”
Tristan takes a step towards her. “Because he doesn’t know what you’re capable of? Doesn’t know who you really are?”
Her face falls. “I … I don’t know what you mean.”
“The crimson magic,” I spit, finding my voice again. “Does your mate know about it?”
She shakes her head.
“Has it happened again?” Tristan asks carefully.
Her gaze shoots up to his.
“Shit, it has,” I say.
She twists her head to look at me.
“When?” I ask.
“I’m done talking with the two of you. My life is none of your business. Go back to your dueling, and your cheerleaders, and your boring little friends, and leave me alone.” She starts to walk away. I block her path.
“Your business will always be our business, Pig Girl. We rule this school and we own everyone and everything in it. Including you. If we tell you to get the hell out of your bed and come see us in the middle of the night. You do it. If we ask you questions, you answer them. Understand?”
“You’re so full of shit!” she snaps.
And something snaps inside me too. I slam her against the nearest tree.
“Don’t make me burn another hole in your stomach, Spencer,” she says, struggling against my body as I pin her to the trunk.
“Do it, little pig, and I won’t be so nice. This time I’ll tell the principal, who will tell the authorities, and before you can say, “Oh Spencer, I’m so very, very sorry,” you’ll be locked away in some cell, with no hope of ever emerging. They won’t even consider the Northern Labor Camps for you.”
“Like I said, you’re full of shit.”
“He’s not,” Tristan says, coming to lean against the tree trunk beside us. “You really don’t know what you’re dealing with, do you?”
“So tell us: when else has it happened?” I add.
Her breaths come in panicked little pants, her chest rising and falling beneath me. “When my life was in danger.”
“Because the werebeast attacked you?” I say, frowning.
“No. I don’t think the werebeast was out to hurt me.” Tristan glances at me and I meet his eye for a fraction of a second.
“Who was trying to kill you then, little pig?” I ask.
