The Golden Lily (Bloodlines, #2)

by Richelle Mead

“Why?” he asked, a slight smile on his lips. “They were damned good ones. You’re not a victim. You’re not a captive to that lily. You can be what you want. You can choose what you want.” “You’re right.” I slipped away, finding no resistance from him at all. “And I don’t choose you. That’s what you’re missing in all of this.” Adrian stilled. His smile dropped. “I don’t believe you.” I scoffed. “Let me guess. Because I kissed you back?” That kiss had made me feel more alive than I had in weeks, and I had a feeling he knew that. He shook his head. “No. Because there’s no one else out there who understands you like I do.” I waited for more. “That’s it? You’re not going to elaborate on what that means?” Those green eyes held me. “I don’t think I need to.” I had to look away, though I was unsure why. “If you know me so well, then you’ll understand why I’m leaving.” “Sydney—” I moved quickly toward the door. “Goodbye, Adrian.” I hurried toward the door, half-afraid he’d try to hold me again. If he did, I wasn’t sure I could leave. But no touch came. No effort at all was made to stop me. It wasn’t until I was halfway out on the lawn in front of his building that I dared a peek back. Adrian stood there leaning against the doorframe, watching me with his heart in his eyes. In my chest, my own heart was breaking. On my cheek, the lily reminded me who I was. I turned from him and walked away, refusing to look back.