Never Sweeter (Dark Obsession #1)(3)

Because it did destroy her. She went back so fast and so violently her teeth came together around her tongue. All the breath whammed out of her body when she hit the floor, like an echo of their last encounter on that dark road. Back then, she had thought she was dying because of the sudden constriction in her chest. The brief inability to take a single breath, as though maybe the truck had crushed her lungs.

Followed by the blinding pain as her head connected with something hard. Back then it had been jagged rocks on the way down. This time it was a gleaming parquet floor—not quite as vicious, true, but the effect was almost the same. The world was already narrowing down to a tiny dot, despite her best efforts at holding on. She clawed at the sides of unconsciousness, desperate not to go out like this again.

What if she didn’t wake up this time?

He would be the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her. Those soft-focus eyes and that twisted smile; his voice like a reminder of everything she hated. “Letty,” he said as he leaned down, the note of triumph in it so unmistakable she tried to scream. She tried to kick and spit and rage against the injustice of it, but it was already too late. The dot became a pinprick, then finally dissolved altogether.





Chapter 2


Letty’s first thought was that she had died and gone to hell. How else to explain the smell of disinfectant and the feel of what seemed to be hospital bedsheets? Only Satan would force her to endure all of that again. The pain and the endless procession of unsympathetic nurses. Discovering each of her injuries in a slow and debilitating procession, culminating in the scar around her ear and the stripe they had shaved to get to the fracture.

Though when she put one shaking hand up, she could still feel all of her curly hair. She ran her fingers through it, frantically checking and checking for bare patches.

There was nothing.

Toward the back of her head she could make out a truly magnificent lump, and it ached under the slightest touch. But that was all. She wasn’t even sure if she had a concussion, considering how easy it was to sit up. The world did not spin; she had no urge to vomit.

And this wasn’t a hospital. It was the campus med room they’d shown everyone at orientation, with the posters advertising help lines dotting the walls. One of them to her left was the friendliest warning she’d ever seen about contracting VD. Another suggested she come along for hugs and cookies. It was actually quite warm and inviting.

Until she turned and saw him.

He just sat in the sagging plastic chair by her bed, like a kindly relative or a really good friend. Even more astonishing, he had apparently been there so long he had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed and his chin was almost touching his chest, so unself-conscious about it she could almost believe it was true.

If it were not for the years of pure torment.

And the letting go on purpose.

He had definitely let go on purpose, which meant only one thing. He was here to do something equally terrible, like take a picture of her bare ass. After all, her ass was almost bare. Someone had taken off her jeans and sweater at some point, and she could feel air against a lot of skin. She pushed the sheets down—slowly and silently—and saw that even her socks were missing.

Though finding them in the cupboard by the bed barely helped her at all. In order to put them on she would have to take things off. In front of Tate. Who was probably watching her through slitted eyelids. Hell, even if he wasn’t, the whole thing was a huge pain in the ass. She was going to have to be silent and super fast to avoid waking him up. But at the best of times she was neither.

And these were not the best of times. The ancient mattress creaked when she inched toward the edge. Every attempt at sliding her legs off the bed made the cheap sheets rustle and crackle like a brown paper bag. Even her feet against the tile seemed loud.

Anything more and he was bound to wake up—it seemed like a miracle that he hadn’t already. She was breathing too hard. She must have whimpered, at least, yet when she checked he looked exactly as he had a minute ago. Chin on his chest, eyes closed, oblivious.

And he stayed that way as she tugged on the rest of her clothes.

First the jeans, then her socks, and finally her sweater.

Good as new.

Apart from the sense that all of this was a mistake. She had been knocked unconscious. It was entirely possible a doctor was supposed to see her. Staying seemed like the wisest course of action—or at least it did whenever she couldn’t see Tate. When she glanced back at him she didn’t feel troubled about fleeing.

She only felt a rising balloon of relief inside her.

This time, she had escaped him for sure. He was actually snoring as she slipped through the door and out into the hallway. There was no chance in hell that he would stop her.

No chance at all.

No way.

Impossible.

“Hey, Letty!”

Her hand was actually on the handle of the nearest fire exit when she heard Tate’s voice. The door was open a crack, and she could see daylight beyond. A little more and she would have been through. She could have pretended him hollering at her was some guys playing Frisbee just beyond them. Just could have kept going until she was free and clear.

She almost did anyway. The temptation to was so all consuming it seemed to burn as it went through her. It made her eyes sting—though that might have been something else. Four years of frustrated, bitter rage pushing against them, maybe. Certainly it was something she had to contain before she could turn around and take him in.