“Why do you think?”She moves her mouth a little closer, parted for me.“Those monsters made me watch.”
My sanity snaps.I shove myself backward so hard I nearly stumble.She hits the wall, breath knocked out of her.
Confusion flashes.Hurt follows.
“Do not,” I say.“Do not make me forget who you are.”
She laughs, broken and sharp.“But you want to.”
I turn away.I can’t look at her.Not when she is this beautiful, this cruel, this willing to burn for me.
She steps after me, chain scraping.“Royal.Come back.”
I reach the door.My hand shakes on the frame.
If I turn around, I will not leave.
“You stay alive,” I say.“No more secrets.No more locked doors.No more basements.”
She laughs softly.“And no more club bunnies.”
I close my eyes.“No more anything.Not until I know exactly what the Reverend is burying.”
“You already belong to me.”
And the worst part is that she is right.
Chapter 19
Becki
Biker looks devastated, hollowed out, cracked open in places he didn’t know could break.Good.Let him break.Let him feel something sharp and deep, the way I did in that closet with tape over my mouth and him inside a bunny.He told himself he didn’t want to touch me.He lied.He lies constantly.Especially to himself.
And they say I’m the liar.
I sit up slowly on the mattress, letting the chain stretch tight on purpose.The metal scrapes the floor in a sound that crawls under his skin.He hates that sound.He is obsessed with that sound.
“Royal,” I whisper, just quiet enough to pull him closer instead of push him away.
He comes back like he can’t stop himself.Like he is the one chained, not me.
I drag my fingers over the bruise on his jaw, the one I put there.He inhales sharply.His eyes flutter almost closed.He doesn’t pull away.
“You thought you could destroy me with another woman,” I say.“Because of Legend.Because of me and Legend.But you destroyed yourself instead.”
His throat works as if the words hurt.Good.Let him feel it.
“And now you’re angry,” I whisper, my voice soft as ash.“But not at me.At yourself.”
His eyes flicker, wild and cracking at the edges.“Stop.”
“Why?”I ask.I lean closer.“You took something from me.Let me take something from you.”
He grips my wrist, but it is weak.I twist free without effort.
“Sit,” I tell him.
He doesn’t.But he doesn’t move either.He hangs suspended between wanting and running, exactly where I want him.
