Wretched (Never After Series)(36)

I turn my head the tiniest bit and whisper, “I’d still hate you if you were the last person on Earth. And I wouldn’t fuck you again even if you had a knife to my throat. I’d choose death. Every time.”

His body freezes, his ministrations stopping.

“Now get the fuck off me,” I force out.

I push against his hold again, and this time he does let me go, his eyes void of any emotion at all.

He shakes his head. “Fine, you win. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

My chest cramps, but I let him walk away, because I don’t want him to stay.





Bricks are meant for paths,

Yet somehow we’re always still.

If there’s nothing for us in the now,

Then I know there never will.

You belong up here in the light,

and me, in poppies down below.

Maybe one day we’ll meet again,

On the other side of a rainbow.

Laughter flows from the hallway and I snap my notebook closed on the kitchen island, just as Dorothy waltzes in with a bright smile pasted across her face.

Brayden follows close behind.

She doesn’t notice me, jabbering about something inconsequential, but Brayden’s eyes find mine immediately, as if we’re two ends of a magnet, drawn together by force.

The air grows thick and I grip the edge of the counter.

Dorothy stops speaking midsentence when she follows his gaze.

“Evie,” she says, smiling thinly.

“Where have you been?” I ask, tilting my head.

She’s never been heavily involved in the darker side of our dealings, our dad making sure she stays out of harm’s way, but she is usually around more than she has been lately.

“Busy,” she snips. “Some of us have things to do other than sit around all day and daydream in notebooks. Why? Suddenly starting to care?”

I shrug. “Just curious.”

But I do care, because more often than not these days, her being busy means our father sending her on errands I know nothing about. I make a mental note to keep closer tabs on her.

Brayden chuckles and I narrow my gaze at him. “Something funny, stalker?”

He runs a hand over his mouth, stifling his grin. “Just the thought of you caring about anything.”

I tilt my head, irritation surging up my throat and sitting heavy on my tongue. “I’d worry more about your proclivity for jumping from one toy to the next, and less about how much I care about my things.”

The second the words pass my lips, I know they’re a mistake, but it’s too late. I’ve let my emotions bleed into the moment.

Stupid.

His eyes darken.

“Wow. You two have really gotten more comfortable with each other since I’ve been gone,” Dorothy says, a hint of jealousy tingeing the edges of her voice.

“Don’t worry.” I smile. “He can still be your little lapdog, Dorothy. I’m not interested in training new bitches.”

He smirks, resting his elbows against the counter.

Dorothy lifts a perfectly manicured brow. “You need training, Brayden?”

“That depends,” he fires back. “If I make you a mess, will you rub my nose in it?”

She blushes so fiercely I’m amazed she doesn’t faint, and I roll my eyes, hating the way my chest tightens. “You’re disgusting.”

He laughs. “Yeah, sweetheart, it’s pretty clear you hate me. We get it.”

I pick up my notebook, holding it against my chest, and his eyes drop to it.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Evie writes love spells. Isn’t that cute?” Dorothy giggles, covering her mouth with her hand.

His brows rise. “Oh? Looking for love, pretty girl?”

My heart stutters at his term of endearment—the one he only calls me when we’re alone—and Dorothy’s grin drops immediately, the energy in the room shifting into something more sinister.

I ignore the change.

“Maybe I’m looking for someone to curse instead. You volunteering?”

He hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his leather jacket and rocks back on his heels. “Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Dorothy groans loudly. “I’m bored. This is boring.” She turns to Brayden, whose gaze is searing into me so intensely, it feels as if he’s branding my soul. “Want to watch a movie?”

He finally drops our stare and looks to her, shifting on his feet and pawing the back of his neck. “I uh… can’t actually. I’ve been summoned by the wicked witch over here.” He tosses a thumb at me.

Normally, I would put up a fight, but the way envy swirls through Dorothy’s features has me biting my tongue. Besides, it’s true. I need him to go with me to check on someone.

“Sorry about your luck,” she says, scrunching up her nose. “Dad wants me to do something for him anyway. You know… business stuff.”

Irritation winds its way through my middle at the fact Dad has her doing something, again, and I don’t know what it is beforehand. Or maybe she’s lying just to get a rise out of me. With Dorothy, you can never be too sure.

“I tell you what,” Brayden says suddenly. “Once I’m done doing my obligations, I’ll come grab you for a late-night snack. You can tell me all about your day and your important ‘business.’”