He leans over me and grips the nape of my neck, tilting my head up as he presses his lips to mine. My eyes shut as I inhale his scent and memorize the feeling of his lips against mine.
“I’m sorry, love. I can’t let you die,” he whispers over my lips as he deepens the kiss and pushes the pills into my mouth. My eyes widen as the flavor of the bitter pills spread over my tongue.
Cameron pulls away enough for our eyes to properly hold one another’s soul. He takes a fistful of my hair to keep my head up and brings his other hand to my jaw.
I don’t want to swallow them, but I also don’t want to die from being useless in the next trial. Tears spill over my cheeks, but I force my expression to remain impassive.
“Swallow.” He massages my throat. The sensation makes my mouth water and the sudden urge to gulp down the contents in my mouth.
Cameron’s soft expression has faded, replaced with his callous eyes and cold, heartless desire behind them. One eye is completely bloodshot red, the other is as clear as day. As I stare up at his captivating beauty, I realize that I was right all along. Beautiful men cannot be trusted. Cameron has always been merciless by nature, and as deceiving as they come.
“Swallow,” he demands again, gripping my throat with more pressure. I can’t hold back any longer.
I swallow the pills.
30
CAMERON
The wayshe’s looking at me makes that unpleasant pain flutter back up inside my chest. Emery’s eyes are filled with betrayal and anger.
Once I’m sure she’s swallowed them, I release her throat and hair.
I’m familiar with the way the pills affect people during their first time. She’s going to pass out in exactly two minutes, and when she wakes up, she won’t be in agony anymore. She’s going to experience the most euphoric high she’s ever experienced.
“You can hate me all you want, Em. I can’t let you die,” I say as I turn away from her to ready the equipment for stitching up her leg. When she doesn’t reply, I turn to look at her.
Slap.
I’m stunned from the force with which she struck me. All I can feel is the sharp tingling across the surface of my cheek, but I’m surprised she hit me. I’m getting less patient with her doing that.
“I didn’t say I wanted them,” Emery whispers, as if she’s keeping back more tears.
I only stare at her, unsure of what I could possibly say to her right now to ease her mind. It’ll be better once she wakes up.
She tries to get off the operating table and loses her balance. Her eyes are dazed and her brows pinch with confusion. I catch her carefully.
“Cam? What’s h-happening?” she mumbles against my shoulder. Her arms and legs are already limp.
I lean my head against hers. “You’re going to take a nap while I get you fixed up.” I cup my hand behind her head as I guide her back against the cold, steel table.
She smiles drowsily as her eyes flutter shut. “O-okay,” she slurs and then her heavy lids finally close.
A cumbersome frown pulls on my lips as I brush a lock of pink hair from her face.I can’t let her die. For selfish reasons, more than completing my task to prove to Nolan that I can keep my shit together. Even if she hates me after this, I don’t care. She’s going to need to be as numb as she can be for the third trial.
The pills feel weighted in my pocket. I want to take five of them and let the fresh nothingness wash over me like it’s doing to her.
But I need to focus. I let my eyes find her wounded leg, and I set to work cleaning, stitching, and bandaging her up. I finish within twenty minutes.
The sink in the infirmary has a mirror directly above it. I try to avoid looking at myself if I can, but tonight I don’t feel like myself.
I’m curious. I want to know what she sees. Her blood washes from my hands like ink, and once I’ve finished I slowly glance up at the mirror.
A bleak, heartless man stares back at me. His cheeks are sharp and hollow from his short time on this earth, shaped by the drugs he puts into his body. The scars on his face are nothing compared to the ones I know still remain under his shirt. Hiseyes are tired. So fucking tired. One so red it looks like blood has replaced the white of it.
I look like I’m in pain. I don’t recognize the man in the mirror.
My fingers trace the scar around my eye gently before trailing down to my sternum.Mum, why did you try to kill me?I think of her scathingly as I draw a line where she cut me open. That was almost a decade ago, but I’ll never forget what she broke inside me that day. There was no more trust, no more hope for anyone to see me and want to protect me. To care about me.
