“That’s good.” His tongue grazes my ear, then he pulls the lobe into his mouth and sucks. When his fingers slip under my shirt and softly stroke the thin lace over my breast, a shiver runs down my spine, a fresh ache forming between my legs. “Because I’m not done marking you yet.”
I barely have time to register what he’s said when he’s flipping me over so my cheek is against the soft tree bark. His heat envelopes me as he inches closer from behind, my breath catching in my chest as I feel him approach. My wrists are pulled over my head as he pins them to the tree with one hand. His tongue is on my neck, his front pressing against my back, and my entire body sighs against him.
When I arch my back, grinding my butt against his hard length, a rough growl sounds by my ear and a hand wraps around my front, grabbing hold of my bare breast beneath my bra. I moan, my forehead resting against the tree.
“Is this what you want?” he growls softly. “To be mine?”
His fingers trail down, down, down, until they slide just over my entrance, not quite slipping inside. I’m breathless when I answer, “Yes, that’s what I want.”
My mouth falls open when I’m quickly spun around, his chest pressing against mine as his lips come crashing down. The kiss starts out hard, rough, demanding, my eyes closing as he rolls his hips against mine. But soon, it slows, gentles, teases. I hear him swallow as he pulls back, rests his forehead against mine. When I open my eyes, his are closed, his chest rising and falling as he pants, struggling to calm his breathing. The hard ridges of his arms contract, his jaw tightens.
“What is it?” I breathe.
He lets out a deep breath, then slowly opens his eyes. The look he gives me twists my heart. From the tenderness in his eyes to the hard set of his jaw. From the thick swallow in his throat to the stock-still stance of his body, rigid and tense as he gently closes my coat, covering me up.
“Lou,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, pained. “You will never be mine.”
“What?” My face falls, an ache creeping into my chest and forming hundreds of tiny knots. “But I am—”
“No, you’re not. If you were mine, I wouldn’t fuck you against a tree in the middle of winter. I’d bring you to a warm bed and make love to you beside the fireplace. If you were mine, I’d wake up with you every morning and remind you how it feels to be loved by me. If you were mine, Lou . . . you wouldn’t need me to mark you, because you’d know.”
I’ve never been stunned speechless before. Never, until this moment. My breath hitches, chest swelling, as I stay frozen in place.
He takes a step back, away from me, and I already know where this is leading before his form starts to waver. He dips his head, glancing down at his feet before dragging those eyes back up to meet mine. He’s gentle, quiet. “As for me, I’ve been yours since the day I met you.” My heart stops, time freezing as I assimilate the words on his lips, devouring them whole. “You may never be mine, but I’ll always be yours.”
And then he’s gone.
Nothing but a barren meadow and a shattered heart in his wake.
Chapter 43
Back when Iwas young and hopped up on Disney fairytales, I had asked my dad if soulmates existed, and how I was supposed to know when I found mine.
He looked me in the eye and said, “Well I don’t know if there are soulmates, but there sure as hell is your someone. It’s easy to know once you’ve found them, though. Do you know why?”
I shook my head, thirsty for more. I wanted the Beast to my Beauty, and I was going to get him.
“Because with a single look, they can make you see the best parts of who you are. The purest version of yourself will be reflected in them. And when they walk away . . .” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose as he gave a soft shake of his head. “When they walk away, they’ll take a piece of you with them. Do you see, pumpkin? When you’re with your someone, you can’t help but feel it deep within your bones.”
Try as I might, I never could figure out what he was talking about. Sometimes when I was with Bobby, I’d think back to Dad’s words and wonder if maybe that’s what I was experiencing. When Bobby’s touch gave me butterflies, or when I’d feel let down after having to cancel plans with him. But that ache I expected to hit me when I broke things off with him never came. Then I began to think maybe it never would. Maybe what Dad and Mom had was so rare, no matter how hard we looked, it only ever happened to a few of us.
Now, as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I see clearly what Dad was talking about. When Death—Enzowalked away from me today, I felt it. I heard thesnapof my heart tearing in half. It wasn’t a messy, dirty rip like I’d expected, but a smooth, clean line that knew just where to break to hurt me the most. The cracks spread through my heart, a piece crumbling in his wake.
Thisis what it feels like to have your heart break for someone. And I finally understand why Dad was never able to fix his without Mom. Because how do you make something whole again, when you’re missing half of the pieces?
I’ve gotone hand against my chest, eyes closed as I lay beneath the blankets and concentrate. My stomach is tight with anticipation, my nerves electric livewires, ready to go off without warning at any moment. I think I might be about to break my twenty second record of no heartbeat.
Fifteen seconds.Deep breath. Sixteen.Don’t flinch. Seventeen.Come on, heart. Eighteen.Please. Nineteen.
A sharp rap on the door whips my eyes open, and I release a loud exhale as I lose focus. When I decide to ignore it and return my attention to my faulty heart, the knocks come faster.
“Lou? Are you in there?”
Claire. I grumble and roll off the bed, padding toward the door.
Her eyes are puffed up and shiny. For the first time since I’ve met her, her hair is not perfectly styled. Instead, it sits in a messy pile on top of her head, and her outfit’s not even color-coordinated today. I frown, wondering if Dylan has anything to do with this, and open the door wider to step aside.
“Hey,” I say softly, locking up behind her. “You okay?”
