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“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on me.” My shoulders snap into a tight line, and I run my tongue over my teeth, still tasting her. “Good thing you know better, then.”
I shouldn’t ask; I know I won’t like the answer. But fuck, I was born bad, but I was born a nosy bastard too. I turn my head. “Who were you just texting?” She stops and glances at me over her shoulder. “Oh, just some guy I’m going on a date with.” My body turns to stone. I was right: something bad is about to happen. Just not to me.
I learned how his touch felt, and even worse, I learned I liked it. The weight of his body on mine, the friction burning my wrists. The sharpness of his teeth and the heat of his glare as he stared down at me, like he didn’t know whether to kill me or kiss me.
As his face spreads into a broad grin, emotion prickles at the back of my eyes. I love it when Finn smiles. After the incident, he didn’t smile at me for months.
As I put her back on the shelf, my comedown is violent. Once upon a time, I made a vow to be the good in the world too. If only it came naturally.
She’s not coming tonight. So what else is she fucking doing? The worst-case scenario flashes against the rock wall like a festive montage. Red: her hand sliding down another man’s bicep. Green: her panties sliding down her thighs. Venom shoots up my spine and explodes at the base of my skull. The thought of another man seeing her panties turns my blood acidic. My fingers grapple for the earbud in the right pocket of my jeans, then change course for the left pocket to snatch up my cell and check her Instagram profile for the millionth time today.
Self-disgust wraps around my neck like a noose. I’d rather be stabbed in the groin ten times over than in the same boat as Rafe, but just like him, I can’t look away.
The thought curdles in my chest. Me, of all people. A crush of all things. If she wasn’t as high as a kite when she said it, then I’d love to know what I’ve ever done to give her that idea. Couldn’t have been because I threatened to cut out her tongue or because I strung her up in my garage like a freshly slaughtered lamb. And if it was, then, fuck, guess she’s more of a psychopath than I am.
She doesn’t belong here. Hell, she doesn’t belong in the dark at all. She looks like cotton candy dunked into an ashtray. An angel who took a wrong turn on the way to heaven. She looks like she knows it too. Something primal and protective stirs beneath my skin. It’s making me consider dragging her out of here by her silk ponytail and flinging her far away to some distant sunny place, where darkness and panic attacks and other men can’t touch her. I’d keep her as happy and as perfect as the day I met her.
With an odd sense of calm, I finally understand why Rafe blew O’Hare’s brains out, and why Cas is thirty seconds away from going nuclear. Visconti men don’t need to love something to hate seeing it in someone else’s hands. Guess it’s just not what we were born to do.
Jesus Christ. I knew I shouldn’t have come tonight because deep down, I knew this would happen. And down even deeper, I’d hoped it would. The moment I stepped out of the elevator, my heart slid south and thumped where it shouldn’t. Gabriel Visconti was exactly where I didn’t want him: bang center in the middle of the cave, wedged between Rory and Rafe. In other words, impossible to avoid.
It wasn’t that Gabriel had lost his temper. It was that he’d lost it because of me.
“Wren…” Her hips knock against the counter as she leans back on her palms. “Are you fucking Gabe?”
A pinch of something ugly twists low in my stomach. I can’t stop it. The jealousy is sharp and sour, and I know it’s ridiculous, because Tayce has seen half of the coast naked. And Gabriel Visconti isn’t mine to react over. He’s not even mine to look at. But the thought still coils tight around my ribs.
“But Gabriel’s not a frog either. He’s a whole-ass dragon,” I snap back, before hastening to add: “Not that I’ve ever even thought about kissing him.” Her gaze sparks. “Uh-huh.”
If I admitted I had a sick, twisted crush on Gabriel, who knows what I’d admit to next.
“There are two types of dangerous men in this world, Wren. The ones you run from, and the ones you run toward to escape the first kind.” She lets out a breath halfway between a laugh and a sigh, then straightens up. “Trust me: I didn’t need to witness Gabe’s outburst tonight to know which camp he falls into.”
“I knew you had a crush on me.” It comes out in a breathless, frantic whisper. “Oh, my God. I knew it.” “Do I look like the type of man who’d have a crush on a girl who has a lip gloss for every day of the week?” he grunts.
Every nerve ending in my body turns toward that single point of contact. They vibrate as his finger carves a line of fire along my bottom lip. Oh, God. My jaw falls slack, and I let out a desperate, ragged breath. I’d fear I was hallucinating if it weren’t for the faint taste of tobacco on his fingerprint. I’ve never had a craving for nicotine, but Christ, the taste of secondhand smoke is enough to turn me into an addict.
The dark doesn’t just hide all sins; it makes you forget what fear is supposed to feel like. Standing there, dripping in the color of blood, Gabriel Visconti embodies it.
My back thumps against the door; I turn to open it. But two quiet words bring me to a stop. “Cancel it.” They drag up my spine like a match, threatening to reignite everything the light just extinguished. “And if I don’t?” I croak. His pause is dense. “Then I guess I’ll see you there.”
