Page 64 of Darkest Obsession

“Do you promise you’re fine?”

Ugh. Why is he acting like he cares?

“I’m fine.”

“Come into the light,” Thomas says, stepping into the beam coming in from outside. “Let me see you.”

I don’t want to get any closer to him, but there’s still adrenaline surging through me and no assailant, so I should probably calm down and rethink this. This whole thing probably pissed them off. I step into the light and see Thomas smiling. He never smiles, but when he does, he looks less like a terrifying tatted up monster and more like a gentle giant.

“You’re fine.”

“I told you.”

“Bit ironic about the cricket bat.”

“Shut up.”

“I still have my bruises.”

He must know what he’s doing. Thomas lifts his white polo shirt and exposes not just his bruises, but the tattoos covering his torso. The large knife. The leaves spiraling up his obliques from his waist. I should be looking at his scars, but his body draws my eyes to his bulging well-formed muscles. He looks ripped after practice and I’m a gross, sweaty mess.

“Ouch,” I whisper once I see his bruises, my chest still pulsing with agitated breath. “Do they hurt?”

“Dunno,” he mutters. “You can try touching them.”

Normally, I would press on them hard, to exact as much pain as possible onto Thomas. This time, my hands rush forward tenderly and I gently press on his purple and yellow bruise. Thomas’ face knots.

“Not bad,” he winces.

“Sorry.”

“I earned those,” he whispers.

“We should get out of here. I lost spicy freak and whoever it is will probably put a rat in my cereal next or something. They were serious.”

“I could stay over again,” Thomas offers, all too eagerly.

I know I should turn him down, but when I turn to him, another consideration enters my mind.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Thomas

Clover whacks me again in the torso. Ouch.

“I don’t need you staying over. Thanks for ruining my plan.”

“I wanted to protect you.”

“I don’t need that.”

I know she’s lying. I heard her crying. There’s a girl in there who is in desperate need of protection and love. I saw for a moment that tough girl exterior crack. I don’t want to think of what I feel for her as love. I’m not capable of that. But that thing I’m not capable of is exactly what she needs.

“Let me at least walk you back to the dorm.”

“Fine,” she snaps, but her shoulders visibly relax and release tension. She knows it’s not safe alone.

“Did you get any hint of the attacker’s identity? Male? Female?”