Scarred (Never After #2)(42)

“Good girl.” My fingers tap her neck before I take the joint away and bring it to my own lips, the end wet from her saliva.

Her dark eyes gleam when they lock on mine and then drop.

She clears her throat and scoots away on the bench. “I still don’t think I like it.”

I lean back until I’m staring at the sky, ignoring the way every nerve in my body is sparking like a cannon, urging me to let loose and either fuck her or kill her, just so I can regain the blessed type of numb I’m used to. “It’s not for everyone, I suppose.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Why not?” I shrug my shoulders.

She doesn’t reply, choosing to mirror my body, stretching out her legs and tangling her fingers as they rest on her stomach, her head leaned against the back of the bench.

It’s silent; the sounds of cicadas in the trees and the occasional hoot of an owl the only thing that accompanies us.

“It calms me,” I finally say.

Immediately, I want to take the words back, expecting her to jump on the chance to cut me down. But she doesn’t. She just hums and closes her eyes.

“Do you ever feel like you can’t turn it off?” I continue. “Your thoughts, I mean.”

“Always.”

“When the whispers won’t quiet, my body revolts, turning into knots and tangles until I can’t sit still. Until my lungs seize up and I can barely breathe through the panic…” I lift the burning paper. “This helps.”

Her head turns toward me, her brows rising. “Did the mighty Prince Tristan just admit to me that something can best him?”

“Anxiety is something that bests everyone it touches. Even me.” I suck in another hit before offering it to her again.

Surprisingly, she takes it, holding it between her fingers.

“I get it,” she says. “Before my father died, I was like any other girl.” She hesitates, glancing at me from her peripheral. “And then right before my twentieth birthday, he went out of town to do what he did best.”

“Which was?”

“Being a good man.” Her lower lip trembles. “He promised he’d be home in time, and every day leading up to my birthday, I’d sit at my bay window, staring out at the dirt road, waiting to see him come down the drive, this sick feeling swirling around my gut, making my nerves jump beneath my skin.”

She shakes her head. “Turns out I was right, and sometimes when you try to be good, you end up a martyr.”

My chest pulls, wondering why she’s telling me this, and wondering why I care.

“Anyway.” She laughs. “Ever since then, that feeling’s never left. It just stews like acid, dissolving everything in its path. I’m always just… waiting for the next knock on my door, telling me that a person I love is never coming home.”

I swallow around the unexpected emotion her words cause, my mind flashing to the moment I found out my father had died.

She brings the joint to her lips, rolling her head back to the sky, her throat bobbing as she inhales. Her silhouette is gorgeous in the moonlight, and before I can stop myself, I’m reaching out to brush a curl from her face, unable to temper the urge. “You’d make a stunning portrait.”

Her nose scrunches, but she doesn’t turn my way. “What?”

“I’d like to draw you,” I rephrase, moving in closer, my fingers dancing across her skin. “Just like this, with your face kissing the stars... I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her body stiffens, and my heart feels as though it’s going to explode out of my chest. I’m not sure what loosens my tongue, and I don’t know if I even mean the things I say. All I know is that in this moment, it feels like I might die if I don’t say them.

“Are you calling me beautiful?” she whispers, her eyes wide as she looks my way.

My tongue swipes across my lips, and I lean in, my mouth brushing the edge of her ear. “I’m saying you could drive a man insane. Make him raze the world just to see you smile.”

Her body shivers, and my cock leaks, every bone in my body screaming for me to grab her and pull her flush against me. To claim her beneath the constellations she outshines.

But then I think of how in a few nights’ time, it’s my brother’s arm she’ll be latching on to.

It’s him that will take her to his bed.

And it’s him that will have her ruling at his side.

Which means I must kill her, just like all the others.

So I pull back, dusting my fingers down her hair, and I stand up and walk away, wondering what the hollow ache is in my chest, and why it’s choosing now to appear.





CHAPTER 23





Sara B.





It’s been almost a month since I’ve seen or heard from anyone in Silva, and while I expected it, that doesn’t stop the longing from weaving through my chest, wrapping around memories of familiar faces.

And familiar lands.

I’ve always been a wanderer. But it’s different from exploring unfamiliar terrain; not knowing what will happen when you turn a corner. I could traipse through every square mile of Silva with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back. Here, though, I still haven’t been able to grasp onto anything concrete; the map in my head is blank with a few dots of knowledge sprinkled throughout. It’s an incomplete picture, and every time I try to fill in the pages, something gets in my way.