I hold onto the words.
Storm holds onto my jaw, my waist, my heart.
There is the sense something will wreck us soon, but I couldn’t say why.
He opens his eyes.
I see heaven there.
But a knock on the door.
Not the front.
The balcony.
My bones tense and I don’t dare look back.
I only stare at him because he isn’t concerned. He doesn’t care.
Something is wrong.
He holds me so tight around my waist, there is nothing between us but skin.
“I wanted you since I met you. Since I saw you at West River High, flipping your blond hair over one shoulder, a smile dancing in your eyes. But you weren’t all sweet, were you? With Remi, you were the kind of loyal I could only hope to find.”
“Storm. What is going on?” I have to speak around his hold on my jaw.
He grips me tighter.
Tears spring to my eyes.
“You should’ve stayed away from me, Sloane. I stayed away from you.”
I try to squirm out of his grip, but he has me so tightly, I worry I will break my own bones before I escape him.
“Shh,” he says, running his lips over my cheek now. “Don’t fight me. Just run, Princess.”
“I’m not your fucking?—”
He grips my throat again, cutting off my words.
It’s tight enough to injure me, if he doesn’t let go.
The knock on the door again. Rapid. Not hesitant.
“You’re right,” he says against my skin, fingertips pressed around my neck so cruelly. “You’re not my anything.” His teeth scrape against my cheek.
I stand still.
I don’t fight.
This makes him relax his grip, and I turn.
It feels as if my legs will fail me.
There, on the balcony.
A woman I’ve seen before. At Ely.
