Flock (The Ravenhood Duet #1)(96)

It’s over. Whatever it was, it’s over.

Spell broken or not, I attach to the burn and let it have its way with me.

Tomorrow is my first day back at the plant, and I have zero doubts I’ll have to face Sean. He’ll find a way to corner me, to get me alone. After hours in the silent house, and organizing my life to the point of insanity, I decide to take a drive to clear my head. Setting out down the long driveway, I listen carefully for the sound of a Camaro and decide it was the result of my overactive imagination, hating the notion it was more like wishful thinking. Quieting those thoughts with a spoonful of those agonizing seconds in their garage, I head out on the road. I breathe a little easier when I reach the end of it, and I ease into the three-way stop looking left and then right, my eyes landing on Dominic when he comes into view, waiting on the shoulder.

Fuck.

He watches me, intent from where he sits feet away. Snapping our connection, I spring into motion, gunning my car past him where he’s parked before hauling ass down the road. In seconds, he’s on my tail, my sedan no match for the lightning beneath his hood. Nerves firing, anger building, I steer through winding roads leading down the mountain towards town. He keeps his distance but remains close enough that I know he’s there and not giving up. I gas my car well above the speed limit, but he keeps the same amount of distance.

“Fuck you!” I roar as I race down the now-familiar roads, driving like a lunatic to evade my old spellbinding captor. Rage boils through me as I replay that night over and over in my head, making good headway toward town. Dom remains hot on my trail until I’m forced to slow at the first stoplight. I check my rearview and see he’s laid back, posture relaxed, the same smug expression on his face that was there the day I met him. I speed through one stoplight and then the next before crossing through to the opposite side of town. Sure he’ll eventually tire, I take him through twenty minutes of winding roads, but he stays right at my bumper.

Fed up with the charade, I skid to a stop at an abandoned camp parking lot, and he narrowly misses a tree, jerking the Camaro in after me, fishtailing and skidding to a stop on the asphalt. I’m already out of my car charging toward him, and he barely makes it out of the driver’s seat when I deliver the first slap.

He takes my hit, his body solid against his car and looks over me as if he’s breathing me in. Hand stinging, I swing again, and he blocks me. Livid, I drink him in as he drops his head, his face blanched red with the outline of my fingers. His hand closes around my wrist, restraining me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you. That all?”

“It had to happen.”

“No, it didn’t. Leave me the fuck alone. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“Cecelia—”

“Fuck you, Dominic. And your sick fucking games. I’m out. That’s my decision.” I turn and try to jerk my arm away and he refuses, gripping me by the waist and yanks me back against his chest, his breath hot in my ear.

“You know we didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t know shit. But I’m done with you, with both of you.”

“I wish that was true.” Still gripping my wrist, he flips me around to face him. I move to slap him again and he clutches my other hand before pinning me to his car. “We had our reasons.”

“Did you? Good for you. Guess what? I don’t care.”

“You do fucking care. You belong to us.”

I snort. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“I told you to stay away, and now you’re in it. What happened that night doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe to you.”

“What happened before it does.”

“Let me go.” I try and rip myself away and his hold only tightens.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Then fucking stop it,” he snaps. “Stop.”

I still in his grip, eyes narrowing when his lips curl up in a smirk, pride shining in his eyes. “You’ve come a long way.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He presses down on me so his body lines up with mine. I’m bent backward on his window, my head resting on the top of the car. His lips are so close and it’s all I can do to fight the pull, but my memories of that night make it easier.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?”

“You,” he darts his tongue out and licks along my bottom lip. My breath catches as he presses his length along my stomach. “You’re what’s wrong with everything and now…” he shakes his head, “you can’t come between us.”

“Oh, but I did come between you,” I snark. “Twice.”

“Fucking stop it,” he snaps. “I’m trying to explain.”

“With more cryptic bullshit, and I’m over it. You can talk to me when you have something real to say. Even then, I won’t listen. I’m done. Get. Off. Of. Me.”

He grips my head and slams his mouth over mine and I fight, I fight against his kiss, my mouth opening to object as he slips his tongue in. Sparks ignite in my chest as he deepens it to the point I can’t think past our night on the hood of his car, or the day at the lake or any other day of life before him. I rip at his hair, at his chest and neck as he brands me with his mouth, and the violent thrash of his tongue. My emotions go from anger to utter devastation as he pushes every feeling I’m fighting to the surface. He pulls away and presses a soft kiss to my mouth. “I’m sorry. That’s the only real thing I can give you.”