Little Stranger (The Web of Silence Duet, #1)

by Leigh Rivers

The contrast of my baby pink against his black is like a symbol of us—the innocent cheerleader and the tall, mysterious smoker whose clothes always match his black hair, the person everyone steers clear of or stares at when we’re out in public.

No. You were mine when we were kids, and you’re mine now. You’ll always be mine.

Don’t silence me like that, he signs furiously. Don’t ever fucking silence me, Olivia. My brow furrows in confusion. “I… I didn’t.” He points to the torch. I can’t fucking talk to you if you can’t see me.

Because I can’t talk? Because I can’t tell you how fucking breathtaking you are every second of every day? Because I can’t breathe without being near you? Someone like me… I’m different—I can’t be normal for you. I can’t defend you without using my fists or my bat, and I can’t touch you at the same time as telling you that you’re everything to me. I can’t whisper sweet nothings into your mouth and I can’t fucking marry you because not only am I your brother, but I’m defective.

Believe me or don’t, but you’re the only person in my life, and you always have been. And when you take your last breath, or I take mine, that won’t fucking change. You. Are. Mine. My goddamn property, do you understand?

Ridiculous—I don’t want to kill her; I want to crush her. There’s a difference.

Come on, Malachi, I urge myself. Say something. “Kai,” I say quietly. The fewer syllables, the easier it is to talk. She stops and turns, confused. I clear my throat, my lips moving a few times before I get the words out. “My name…” Breathe, asshole. “Kai.” She smiles wide. “Well hello, Kai.”

She’s quite the masochist, and I love it, because I think I’m a sadistic bastard.

Being separated from her was like being thrown into the sea when you can’t swim. Drowning—I was fucking drowning until I set eyes on my Olivia again.