Dr. Van der Merwe’s sessions clearly aren’t working for her.
I grab a pair of boots from my duffle bag and drop them on the floor.
“Where’d you get those from?” Blaze asks, eying the combat boots suspiciously.
I shrug.
She cocks her hip to the side. “I’m the klepto here. You know that, right?”
“And yet you look so pretty against flames.”
She needs to be comfortable, and comfort won’t come from heelsor someone else’s shoes. Plus, she deserves to own something she didn’t get secondhand.
Blaze snorts and slowly lowers herself onto the bed. I grab the boots before she can, ignoring her incessant protests as I slip her feet into them, lacing them carefully to not add too much pressure on her ankle.
She wiggles her feet as I tie the last knot, then help her up. “I’m like a fucked-up Cinderella.”
“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”
“Really? A ginger hair joke? What are we, in middle school?”
I stare at her blankly. This is the girl I fell for. Not the fiery hair or the blue eyes, but the explosive personality. Filling a whole place with her presence. Throwing jokes even when exhaustion lines every inch of her silhouette. As long as she has room, my girl will always burn. But no fire lasts without someone giving her the things she needs, and she’s been slowly dwindling out for years.
Holding the door open for her, she limps ahead and tries to stay two feet ahead of me as we make our way to the hall. The corridors are practically deserted with everyone already at prom—which means she’s out of luck if she thinks anyone can save her from me.
The closer we get to the venue, the harsher her breathing becomes and the slower she moves. Music pulses through the air from the hall in the distance, and people filter in and out of the gothic structure, mingling on the lawns before heading back in.
Blaze gravitates towards me, just enough to brush her arm against mine as if double-checking I’ll catch her if she falls. I pull her gloved hand into mine just before we reach the first lot of students on the lawn, and I’m careful to avoid knuckles as I tug her tightly to my side.
“Hey!” she protests, but half-asses her attempt to get away. “That’sfor dates only.”
“Do you ever want to come again, Blaze?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t need your assistance or permission to come.”
“You will if your hands are tied. Hold my goddamn hand, Thief. Say you aren’t my date one more time, and you’re walking into the hall with your panties ripped, and my come dripping down your leg.”
Blaze curses my name fifty different ways beneath her breath, but agrees with an air of reluctance that doesn’t match the smile beaming across her lips. The moment makes me pause.
She’s smiling.
She’s smilingat me.
It’s intoxicating. A euphoria I never thought I’d understand. I see how addiction starts now.Thatwas the missing piece—the slice that perfectly fixed every wrong. Maybe this isn’t the start of an addiction; it was always there. I’ve just found the correct dose.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Blaze whispers, staring up at me with her eyes the color of the hottest fire.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me alive.” Her gaze goes down to my lips, then back up.
“I’ve been dying for a taste of you since the moment I was born.”
Her sharp inhale rings in my ears. Everything about her commands me. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Then shut me up.”
Blaze hesitates for only a second before her scarlet lips ascend on me, stamping her mark in red on my cheek. I’ve waited a lifetime for her to touch me with something other than the tips of her claws and the points of her sharpened teeth. But the soft press of her lips is toofleeting.
