Carrson stares at it like he’s forgotten how to breathe.
“Becky—”
“I’m not a good person, but I promise to be good to you,” I tell him. “So tell me,” my pulse pounding against the fresh wound, “are you in or not?”
Carrson’s answering grin is the most beautiful, ruinous thing I’ve ever seen. He follows my movements, not going for elegance. He carves a large, boldBin jagged slashes across his chest, marking himself with a violence that matches my own. “You know I’m in.”
Our daggers clatter into the dirt. There’s no space left between us. Our hands find each other, grasping at hair, throats, bare skin. When our lips clash, it isn’tsoft. It’s all teeth, breath, and the blood that mingles between us, leaking from our hands, our hearts.
His laugh breaks against my lips as he kisses me again and again.
Chapter forty-four
Present
Epilogue
Three years later
Becky
Square caps with golden tassels fly into the air as the crowd erupts into cheers. Everyone is on their feet, graduates and the audience too, hugging, kissing, crying. A sea of perfume hits as my friends, all sisters from Rosewood Hall, surround me, offering congratulations and praise. I chat with them, smiling so big my cheeks hurt. These four years have flown by, sometimes challenging, but mostly wonderful, and I’ll miss it. My college years.
Once the auditorium clears a bit, I excuse myself and go looking for him.
Carrson stands with my parents, his shoulders relaxed and his smile easy. He’s been the perfect host all week, showing my parents around, making sure they were attended to while I finished finals and packed up my room.
I call his name, waving with my hand over my head, and he turns, a grin spreading across his gorgeous face. He jogs over to me and surprises me by lifting me off my feet in a deep hug. “Hey,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m so proud of you. You looked great up there.”
My smile is as big as his when he sets me back down. “Thanks. I can’t believe it’s over.” I reach up and straighten the clips that hold my hair in a low ponytail. We stand shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the students who are scattered across the room, talking with each other and their families. As the leader of the sisters for the past two years, I made it my job to get to know most of them.
As usual, Carrson reads my mind. He bumps me with his elbow. “Think Rosewood Hall will survive without you? Everyone’s so dependent on you over there. They’re always knocking on your door, asking for advice.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed over the times I’ve been late to come to Ashford House for the evening because I had fires to put out with the women.
“They’ll be fine, although Ashford House still misses you.” I lean against his shoulder. Carrson’s in law school in Ashport, living in the house that had been his father’s.
The law school I’ll start in the fall. The house I’m moving into after today.
I turn and wrap my arms around his waist, staring up at him. “I can’t wait to sleep with you every night again, like we did back when we were first bonded.”
He leans in, lips to my ear, and says in a husky voice, “Who said anything about sleeping?”
I laugh and punch him lightly in the arm. “I’m going to need some rest to keep up with you in the law library.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs, trapping me in his arms. “You want to see your graduation present?”
“Yes! Yes.” I bounce on my toes, excitement coursing through me.
Carrson reaches into his pocket and brings out some photos. He looks nervous as he hands them over. “You can change anything you don’t like. Okay?”
Curious, I look at the pictures. They’re of a bedroom. It’s large and sunny with an upholstered bed and creamy white sheets. It looks familiar. There’s a sitting area next to a tiled fireplace.
“Wait,” I say, tracing the bed with my finger, “is this your father’s old room?” My head snaps up to him. I only went in that room once, the time it scared me. After that, we left it locked.
“Yeah.” His cheeks turn the faintest shade of red. “I had it redone. Thought we could start sleeping there. I, uh, threw out the old bed.” His eyes go distant for a second. I squeeze his arm to bring him back to me. He blinks. “I had a new one, a king bed, put in.” He taps the photo in my hand. “And did you notice what’s above the fireplace?”
I bring the picture closer and peer at it. “Oh!” I exclaim. “I recognize that painting. The one of the horse. It was Remi’s. She made it when she was sixteen.” I look up at him. “How did you get it? That was in my parents’ house, put away in the attic.”
I glance over at my parents, who are currently talking with my Ancient Civilizations teacher. All of them laughing.
