“Does this feel like Stockholm Syndrome to you?” He ran his thumb over my lower lip, then lightly pulled it down. “The truth, Ava,” he demanded.
I opened my mouth to tell him it was all a lie, but nothing came out.
He rubbed a strand of my hair between his fingers, then pushed it back over my shoulder, and let his fingers trail down my spine. Warmth tingled wherever he touched, stealing my breath. He flattened his palm against the small of my back, then pulled me against him. The heat from his body engulfed me in fire. It raced through me, igniting the light in me.
A sob broke free from my chest. He pulled me even closer, arching my body against him the way he always had.
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Say it, my little witch. Admit how we feel together.”
I stayed quiet, fighting the onslaught of emotions. It barrelled through me, shaking me to my core.
He lifted his head, watching me, waiting for it. “Say it.” Another tear escaped his dark eyes. “Please.”
“Magic,” I heard myself whisper.Oh, gods.Why am I letting him in? Why am I admitting this?
A faint smile appeared on his lips. “Yes,” he whispered back. “Magic.”
His eyes shifted to my mouth. I could feel his desire to kiss me pulsing in the air around me, wild, desperate.
Or maybe it was mine.
But Grayson didn’t lower his lips to mine, his body rigid with control. His fingers tightened in my hair, his brow furrowing. “You still have a decision to make, Princess. Do you want me to give myself over, or can I take you home?”
I stared into his eyes, tears streaming from mine. Could this be? Was this real?
Grayson’s head snapped up, and a wave of Deja Vu hit me. There was something familiar about that movement, in the deep furrow of his brow.
There was a thud on the window of the door, and I found what Grayson was looking at. Owen slammed the side of his fist against the window, his eyes wide with terror. It must have looked terrifying the way Grayson was holding me, the mascara running over my face.
“Run! Ava, run!” Owen’s muffled scream hit me like bricks to the stomach.
I’ve heard this already. I’ve seen this before.
This room felt familiar because I’d dreamt of it.
A sob choked out of me, and Grayson snapped his eyes back to me, but I couldn’t look away from Owen.
I’ve already made this decision. Weeks ago. In a dream.
There was no denying what I would choose.WhoI would choose. Who I would always choose.
And itshatteredme.
I shoved at Grayson’s chest, and he released me immediately. I stumbled over to the door, to Owen. I sobbed as I watched him yank at the door, his eyes wild, not yet seeing. Not yet understanding.
I reached a hand up to the glass, wishing I could touch his face, wishing I could hold him when he finally sees it.
He went still as death.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, hoping to ease the blow that had made him stop breathing. He couldn’t hear me, but he saw what I said.
His face contorted, pain twisting his features as it hit home.
“I’m so sorry, Owen.” I wanted to die at the mockery of my words. The same words Liam had used. The same wordsGrayson had said when he ripped the fabric of my universe apart.
Owen’s chin trembled. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.” His voice, his words were so broken, my chest collapsed in what felt like my last ever breath leaving me.
Grayson’s fingers curled around mine, but I held Owen’s eyes. I drowned in his agony with him.
