Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Me.
Forgetting Isadora and everyone else around me, I spring up from my seat. Keeping my eyes locked with him, I take a step back. And even though we’re far apart, he still notices and goes alert, his body snapping taut. I take another step back and his eyes narrow. Another and his chest expands with a sharp breath under his t-shirt. He’s getting angry. Like he always does when I retreat from him. He’s warned me over and over again what will happen if I run from him.
So I keep backing away. I keep making him angry.
Because let him be mad. Let him get flooded by anger, by all the emotions, all the feelings he tries so hard not to feel. And when he catches me, I’ll show him. I’ll show him he can feel whatever he wants to, he can do whatever he wants to with me. I’ll show him he is safe with me. Like I’m safe with him.
I’ll show him he can love me because I love him back.
I turn around and start running. I rush through the crowd and make for the French doors. I burst through them and feel the crisp night air. The grounds are vast and lit up by lampposts but beyond that there’s a maze, tall and made of hedges. I take off toward them. It’s a crazy choice and there’s always a chance I’ll get lost. But I don’t care. I know he’ll find me. I know he won’t let me get lost.
I run and run and enter the maze, dark but not scary. The night is alive with chirping crickets and a light breeze. There are a million of stars up in the sky just like freckles on my body. His favorite and I let them guide me. I turn far too many corners to know where I’m going or where I’ll end up, but I know this is me running toward him even if it doesn’t look like it. I know that any second now I’m going to reach him.
And I do.
Just as I’m turning another corner, he grabs me from behind. Just like he did all those months ago at The Horny Bard. His arm catches me around the waist, and he literally plucks me off the ground, my heels almost midair. My spine goes crashing against his chest and the air leaves me in an oomph. But instead of any discomfort, all I feel is relief. Instead of any pain from his violent grip and hard body, all I feel is joy.
He carries me a few steps ahead before putting me down on the ground and spinning me around. He crowds me against one of the hedges and I realize they have prickly vines and scrambling branches. They dig into my upper back, my bare shoulders, my arms, my neck and I smile. Isn’t it the most fitting thing in the world that I’m being stared down by the Wrecking Thorn, all angry and violent, while real thorns bite my skin?
I love it. I love him. And he loves me.
I love it when he realizes there are thorny twigs at my back, he snatches me around the waist again and tugs me toward him. Then, his chest pressing into mine, his eyes fuming, he growls, “What the fuck are you doing?”
I slid my hands along his biceps and clutch his shoulders. “You caught me.”
He squeezes his arms around me, making me go up on my tiptoes. “Fuck yeah, I caught you. What the fuck were you thinking? You could get lost in here.”
I shake my head. “You would’ve found me.”
His eyes take in my features, still frantic, still angry. “Did Isadora say something to you?”
My heart twitches. “You said her name.”
“What?”
“You never say her name,” I tell him like he doesn’t know.
His nostrils flare, something passing through his features. “Did she say something to you? Is that why you ran out of there like a fucking maniac?”
Just that you love me and I’m perfect for you.
Instead, I say, “I ran because you told me not to.”
He grates his jaw, his features turning violent, his grip turning violent too. It hurts so good I can’t stop the shiver that goes through my body. “So you ran to fuck with me.”
I lick my lips. “No, I ran because I wanna be your good girl.”
He’s surprised by my words. His chest shudders a little bit and his eyes loses some of their ire. And I take advantage of that. I get out of his hold and push him back. Before either of us can take another breath—because I know his are suspended just like mine—I drop down on my knees. Gripping his jean-covered thighs and looking up, I say, “Please, let me be your good girl. I wanna be your good girl, Shepard.”