Beneath the Surface (Sugarlake, #4)

by Emily McIntire

“You can stop singing for everyone in the world, little bird, but not for me.” My grip tightens on her neck, her pulse skittering underneath my palm. “You want to be mad? Be mad. But you stay here with me and you fight.” Her eyes flicker, and my chest tightens. “Are you going to let me explain?” I pull her hair by the root, strong enough where I know she’ll feel the sting, and her eyes flare, raging back to life. Relief worms its way through the beats of my heart. Her hands curl into fists and her pliable body grows rigid. “Explain what, Alexander?” she spits. “How I opened up and shared things with you tonight and thought you did the same only to find out you were engaged to be married?” Her hands smack against my chest, the heat of her hurt singeing through my skin. “I don’t need this.” She pushes against me. My grip on her tightens. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are.” Thunder claps loud enough to make her jump, and I take the opportunity to grasp her waist, pulling her until every inch of her body is flush against me. “You can lie to yourself all you want,” I say. “But don’t lie to me. You want to know the truth? I’ll tell you. You know I will. So what is it that you’re so afraid of hearing?” She scoffs, ripping out of my arms, and rushing into the downpour. I let her, my heart banging against my sternum as harsh as the storm that booms in the air. “God damnit!” I race after her, ignoring the way the rain blinds my vision and chills my skin. “Yes, okay? I wa...