Split(43)

Lucas’s eyes grow impossibly darker.

From out of the crowd Sam appears, takes in the scene, then curls up to Lucas’s side. Her arms wrap around his waist like pythons, but he seems totally unaware of her presence. “Give it up, Dustin. We broke up.” Her eyes land on me apologetically. “You can have him back. I don’t want ’im.”

I shake my head and struggle to get away.

“Release her.” An angry growl comes from Lucas’s mouth but sounds nothing like him.

Sam peers up at him, frowning.

“Make me, retard.” Dustin nuzzles my hair behind my ear and it’s all I can do to keep from heaving.

“You’re disgusting! Just leave him alone!” I kick my feet, but it’s useless; he’s too strong.

His beer breath fans my face as he laughs. “I can’t believe it. You’re stickin’ up for the retard? You like the dumbshit, don’t you, Shy?” He jerks me in his hold. “You want him? He’ll have to take you from me.”

Lucas’s eyes slide to mine and practically glint with excitement. The hint of a smile curves his lips.

“Don’t listen to him, Lucas!”

He jerks his gaze to Dustin and shrugs off Sam so hard she yelps. Stepping into Dustin’s face, leaving me the only thing that stands between them, Lucas grins, cocks an arm, and punches my ex with lightning speed.

Blood sprays across my cheek.

Dustin drops like a sack of pig feed. I would’ve gone down with him if it weren’t for Lucas’s hold around my waist.

Sam rushes to Dustin, kneels, and shoves him. “You idiot!”

I move to check on him, but Lucas cuffs my wrist in an unforgiving grip and drags me away. My feet have no choice but to follow as he turns down the nearby hallway and pushes out the back door.

“Lucas, I—”

He whirls me around. I stumble and my knee screams before I’m slammed against the wall, nearly knocking the air from my lungs. “Not Lucas. Gage.” His lips crash against mine and I gasp as his tongue slides into my mouth.

No, no! I don’t want this. I beat his chest with my fists, but he growls, presses me deeper into the wall, sandwiching my arms between us. His tongue lashes against mine, powerful lips demanding my cooperation and draining me of my will to fight. My eyes flutter closed and I moan, helpless against the euphoria.

His lips are smooth, strong, and greedy. I wiggle my arms free and hook my hands behind his neck. My nails rake across his flesh. A growl rumbles in his chest and he pulls at my shirt, balling the front in his fist and pulling so tight it bites into my skin. The kiss is like nothing I’ve felt before—animalistic and primal.

This is not the Lucas I know. Not the timid, shy, almost scared man I’ve come to care about.

He bites my upper lip and reality comes crashing down over me.

Gage.

He called himself Gage.

I rip free of his lips, panting, and he runs his nose along my jaw. His breath hits my overheated skin in quick bursts.

“Who is Gage, Lucas?”

His body tenses and he slowly pulls back. His chin is down and he glares at me through heavy-lidded eyes that are on fire with an emotion I can’t name.

A tendril of fear winds its way up my spine, racking my body with an intense shiver. I can’t explain how I know, and it makes no sense, but . . . “You’re not Lucas,” I whisper.

He shakes his head, slowly, deliberately keeping our gazes locked.

“Where is he?”

His eyelids flutter and he pushes off me, putting space between us. “Stay away from him.”

What is this? His face and body say Lucas, but he’s carrying it so differently that . . . “I want to talk to Lucas.”

His head jerks and he rushes at me, his big hands pinning my shoulders to the wall. “Do not f*ck with him. Stay away, or I’ll bury you.” He turns on his heel and stalks into the parking lot, disappearing between rows of cars.

I want to chase after him, but fear has my feet cemented to the ground.

I run trembling fingertips along my lips. My pulse pounds in my ears, making me dizzy. “Who are you, Lucas?”





FOURTEEN



LUCAS


I’m flying. No, not flying, falling. Air whips around my body and a feeling of weightlessness lightens my chest. My arms and legs flail, but not in panic.

In exhilaration.

The howling laughter of a girl makes my heart pound.

Blue water comes into view just below my feet. It grows bigger as I plummet.

I brace to hit.

My body lurches. I gasp. My heart thuds heavily and I blink as my eyes adjust to the sunlight.

I’m in my room, on my bed. I hold my head in my hands, the light confirming what I already know.

“Blackout.” I rub my temples as my senses flare back to life and do a quick mental check of my well-being. “Headache.” Not uncommon after the blackouts.

I peer down at my body. Still wearing clothes, even though I’m in bed, or more like on top of my bed. My work boots are still on and . . . I open and close my right hand. “Sore knuckles?”

I check the window from where I’m sitting. My guess is it’s early morning. A groan rumbles in my chest and the weight of discouragement threatens to push me back into sleep.

My memory. I have to try to pull up as much as I can. I lie back and throw my forearm over my eyes.