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“That little time-out fix your salty mood, princess?” Pax asks.
Being resurrected from the dead has its benefits. Most important of which: my friends have started messaging me again.
I dig around in my bag until I locate the busted phone, and then I hold it out to Tom across the table. He swallows, relief dominating his features. Damn, the poor bastard must be really hard up for cash.
He looks like he’s casually taking in the chandeliers, and the antique furniture, and the handsome people, dressed in all their regalia, but Lord Dashiell Lovett the fourth is looking for his father. It could be said that Dash is always looking for his father. For his approval, that is.
In every way, she’s perfect. In every way, I hate her. Detestable creature.
I thought I could handle being out here with her, but I was wrong. She asked if she’s really all that bad? Hell fucking yes, she is. She shouldn’t even fucking be here. There’s no way Dash’s father sent her an invite, which means… No. You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m going to fucking kill him.
Dash looks like he’d do the same if he could. “Look, I just think that this thing with this new girl…You’re not seeing things straight, Jacobi, and you seem to reset whenever Mercy’s around, so I thought—” “So you thought, I know what I’ll do. I’ll drag the poisonous cunt who ruined Wren’s life across state lines. She’s bound to make everything better.”
“People think he’s stupid because he’s a model, but I had to work with him on a science po—prop—project last year, and he was really smart. Really, really, really smart.” I pass her the beer we’re sharing. “Really, really, really smart?” “Yes!” she says, snickering. “Really, really, really…really, really…” She forgets what she was going to say. “Anyway, his name is Pax. That means peace in Latin. Did you know that?” “I did know that.” “Oooh, look at you. Clever little Elodie. I like your name. What does Elodie mean?”
“Jacobi threatened to fucking kill me. And if I don’t get that girl’s phone back by the end of tomorrow, she’s gonna know something’s up.
Elliot grins humorlessly. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure she’s standing behind you. And she looks pissed, man.” Tom whips around like he’s just been poked up the ass with a cattle prod. “Oh, shit. Elodie! Uh…yeah, it’s Elodie. How you doing? Are you, um—” He rubs frantically at the back of his neck. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Tell her what you did, Tom.” He blinks. “It isn’t like I had a choice,” he moans. Carina’s friendly tone evaporates. “Tom Petrov. Tell me what you’ve done.”
“Ha!” Wren throws his head back and laughs, just once, snapping the book closed in his hands. The tendons and muscles in his throat work as he swallows. “Elodie! Was that you?” Carina calls out. “Did you hear that?” I lock eyes with Wren, waiting for him to tell me to keep my mouth shut, but he just shrugs again. He doesn’t care if she knows he’s here, clearly.
Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you’re panicked?” he asks. “You get these spots of color in your cheeks and your eyes come alive. I’m glad you didn’t run.”
As for your phone, I’d say it was pretty obvious, wouldn’t you? I wanted to strip all of your father’s malware from it so I could message you, safe in the knowledge that I wasn’t being spied on by one of the most belligerent men in the United States military.”
Only a stupid, foolish girl with no common sense or care for her own well-being would take a gift offered by Wren Jacobi. I know this. So why do I reach out and take the book from him? And why can’t I break eye contact with him as Carina drags me away down the stairs?
“Mercy? To what do we owe the pleasure?” His mouth says pleasure, but his eyes say Dear God, no. “I had no idea you were swinging by for a visit. I assume that’s why you’ve come all this way? To see how your brother’s faring?”
ME: It’s beautiful, but I’m not keeping it. Three dots appear, almost immediately. WREN: Liar.
WREN: I notice things, Little E. Sue me. You stayed at the academy because you want to see me.
WREN: Meet me. ME: NO. WREN: Give me one hour. If you don’t come, I’ll have to come to you. Then you’ll see just how much of a stalker I really am.
WREN: Pax and Dashiell would never lay a finger on you. They know they’d never walk again. But whatever. If you don’t want to come here, I’ll come there. Meet me in the attic. 8pm.
“So you were being crazy, then?” “Yes! I was crazy all the time, and Michael just sat there and took it. Which meant he was even crazier than me! I’m not gonna date a psychopath like that!”
WREN: Don’t disappoint me.
but then I see the thick pile of very new, very luxurious looking blankets on the floor, and the basket, and the wine, and the hundreds of candles that have been placed on top of every available surface, their flames flickering and waving as they work industriously to drive back the dark, and the words turn to ash on my tongue.
“What the fuck is this?” he asks, finishing my sentence for me. “This is what a Friday night attic date looks like. No need to look so horrified. I didn’t bring any weapons with me.”
“You don’t really want that, though, do you.” He states it—a raw, undeniable fact. “You daydream about my mouth on yours all the time. I can see it playing out in your head. It’s quite the show. You imagine what it would be like, trapped in a dark room with me, my hot breath in your ear, my sweat on your tongue, my dick rubbing up against your cunt, and you can barely sit still. And when you really lose yourself, you let your mind off its leash and you fantasize about what it would be like to have me actually inside you. You sit so very still, beautiful Elodie. So, so still. You don’t move a
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“It’s the most distracting, arousing, incensing thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some shit, let me tell you.”
“Because I’m not insane. I don’t just go around assaulting people because I feel like it. I’m not a slave to my compulsions.” “Shame.” Wren lets his head fall back; he looks up at me with a lazy, self-assuredness that makes me so angry I want to cry. “If you were, we’d have dispensed with this bullshit and fucked already.”
“Is that all you care about? Fucking me? If I gave in and let you have me, would you finally grow bored and move on to your next victim?” “No.” He says it without surprise or condemnation. “I won’t ever be done with you. Just as you’ll never offer yourself up to me just to get me to leave you alone, sweet girl.”
Wren’s sharp gaze flays me down to the bone. “Sit down, Elodie.” “I will not. I only came up here to ask you who the fuck you think you are.” “And once I tell you who I think I am, you’re gonna wriggle back into that crawlspace and disappear back downstairs?” “Yes. Exactly.” “Exactly. Okay. Well I think I’m the only guy in this godforsaken hellhole who you’ve looked twice at. I think I’m the guy you can’t stop thinking about. I also think I’m the only guy who’s ever made your heart race out of your chest. Am I wrong?” I narrow my eyes to slits. “Yes.”
“Okay. Then deny all I’ve said. Tell me I’m wrong. You don’t imagine me. You’re not plagued by me day and night, the way I’m plagued by you. See, I have no problem with the truth. I made friends with it a long time ago. A lie only makes a fool of the liar. The truth always comes out. I am besieged by you, and it fucking sucks. You’re in my head when I wake up. You’re in my head when I wander around this wretched place, and you’re still there, tormenting the ever-loving shit out of me when I close my eyes at night. So, do it. Lie to me some more, Little E. Please feel free. But you’ll excuse me
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This situation’s miserable; I’d give anything to get myself out of it, but the bitter irony of it all is that I’d also do anything to have him.
“So, I put a couple of frog’s legs in your desk. I’ll admit, that wasn’t very nice. I apologize for it. And I’m sorry I threatened Tom. I’m not very good with people sometimes.”
“I’m sorry that I’m imperfect. I’m fully aware of my flaws. But I’ll work on a few of them if it’ll make you happy.”
“I care very deeply about your happiness. More than I should. I care about being personally responsible for your happiness, and that—” he shakes his head, “—is a confounding realization, believe me.”
“Or maybe you’ll see that I am a monster. And maybe you’ll fall in love with me anyway.”
Only, I know how badly that’ll affect me. It’ll destroy me from the inside out, and I won’t be able to do shit about it. A promise is a promise, and I don’t make them lightly.
“I decided at a young age that I didn’t like pain.”
Goddamnit, she’s too fucking beautiful. It’s like staring at the fucking sun—I look at her for anything more than a second and my retinas threaten to explode. Neither Pax nor Dashiell would say she’s the prettiest girl enrolled at Wolf Hall, but to me, Elodie Stillwater’s the most enchanting thing I’ve ever fucking seen.
God, how can I want to kiss her so fucking badly while she’s telling me that I’m a lost cause?
Her defiance, and her strength, and her self-assuredness are addicting. She knows exactly who she is and what she stands for, and I want to breathe her like she’s life its very self.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, turning her head away. The candlelight glows against her hair, creating a golden halo around her head. “How am I looking at you?” This is sheer insolence on my part. I know precisely how I’m looking at her, and I’m not planning on dialing it down one iota. I want to devour her. Claim her. Bind her to me any way that I can. And if she can read that in the burning fire in my eyes, then so fucking be it. I’m not ashamed of how I’m feeling, and I sure as fuck won’t be hiding it from her, either.
“Okay. Why did Dashiell treat Carina so badly? Was it some kind of bet between you guys?” “Dashiell likes to break his toys when they become too important to him.”
“You’re not a toy. I have no expectations of you. How can I when you’re constantly surprising me and throwing me off my fucking guard. If you let me—” Panic flares in her eyes. She’s staring at my mouth again, complete terror radiating off her in waves. “Wren—” “If you let me,” I repeat. “I’ll surprise you too. Just you wait and see.”
“Please,” she repeats. This time it sounds like she’s begging me to do something rather than to get the hell away from her. The desperation on her face makes my blood roar inside my head, clouding my vision and making my pulse soar.
I crush her to me so hard that even I can’t breathe. My lips meet hers, and the kiss is nothing like it was supposed to be.
We’re both so afraid of the ending before we’ve even truly arrived at the beginning,
Elodie makes a soft, whimpering sound as she brings her lips back up to meet mine, her fingers grasping tightly onto a thick tangle of my hair, and everything stills and blurs. She tastes like sunlight and honey. She smells like the last time I can remember being fucking happy. In my arms, her small frame feels like the most important, valuable thing I’ve ever held.
“Wren. Wren. Oh my god…” She pants my name, breathless, still arching her back and pressing herself up against me in a way that makes it very hard to think straight. “What the fuck are we doing? What is this?” she moans.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she hisses. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who kissed me.” “All right, whatever. No sense in assigning blame. This is still your fault!” “Hah! I thought there was no sense in assigning blame.”
I wanted to wreck her, but back in the attic, kneeling alone in the dark, I saw everything so much clearer than before. I came to a stark and horrifying realization that’s turned my entire existence on its head. I will not be the one to wreck Elodie. She’ll be the one to wreck me.
