Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(72)

Humorless laughter vibrated from him. The sound resonated through me as if I was standing too close to a speeding train. “I told you I don’t do it often. I don’t f*cking care because it’s not worth the trouble. It’s not worth the pain. But I never lied when I said I cared about you. Why, Red? Why should I care about you?”

The last came on a desperate whisper.

The earth shook beneath my feet and I tried to remain on solid ground. But I could feel it cracking. The fissures and fractures. The threat of it breaking away.

He made me so f*cking weak.

He leaned in, close enough that his nose brushed mine. His expression verged somewhere between savage and sad as he glared down at me in the shadows. “You gonna hook up with him? Trade me in for a pretty boy before my plane even leaves the ground?”

Guilt simmered because he’d hit it. Spot on. I throttled the feeling. Fought back. “What about the three girls at your table?”

“What about them? Ash goaded me into going to that damned bar tonight. Asshole thought he had some kind of point to prove, dragging me there, shoving girls in my face who would be all too willing to jump into my bed.”

The words constricted into a tight whisper. “Ash thinks it’s his God-given right to call me out on my bullshit. Forcing me to look at the truth. And the truth is the only f*cking thing I want right now is you. You.”

My eyes squeezed closed against his confession. It was so much easier protecting my heart when I hated him.

“You’re an *.” I whimpered it as his hand traced across the distorted heart between my breasts. My body arched, already desperate for more.

“I think we already established that.”

“What are you really doing here, Lyrik?” It was difficult to even voice it with him standing there, his boxes packed, at the ready to steal everything away. “What do you want?”

What would it change now?

He huffed a laugh. It was a sound that verged somewhere between hate and disgust. He eyed me. Cautious. Gauging what to say.

“Been lying in bed for the last two hours, staring at the ceiling, tryin’ not to listen for your return. For the voices I knew I couldn’t stand to hear. Tryin’ not to care that little bastard back at the bar might have been in there with you.”

I swallowed the pain lodged at the base of my throat and tried to reach for some kind of rational thought when this boy always managed to strip it away.

“You don’t really have the right to care about that anymore.” It was scarcely a whisper.

He stared across at me. Challenging. “You promised me two months.”

“Yeah, you promised them too…and you couldn’t even give me that.”

“Blue—”

I winced. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why?” He took a step forward, eclipsing me in his shadow, the man towering over me. “Why, Blue,” he demanded. “You think I don’t see you? That I don’t get what you were trying to pull tonight?”

My hands fisted at my sides. “Tell me what you want…tell me…because I don’t think I can take this anymore.”

I couldn’t stand there and not crumble at his feet.

He hesitated. As if he were trying to hold himself back while everything left unfinished between us built, strengthened, and inflamed. I saw it the second he finally caved.

His hand flew out in frustration, as if he wanted to punch something, and he ducked his head, shocking me by how quickly he got up in my face as the words poured from his mouth like a pissed-off plea.

“I f*cking missed you, okay? I f*cking missed you and it f*cking killed me thinking of you bringing that kid back here. Killed me thinking of you reaching for another man. Killed me to think of that bastard’s hands on you, taking what’s mine. I was supposed to have two months. Two months.”

“And now it’s too late.” The words shook as they slipped from my tongue.

As if he’d been struck, his face jerked to the side. His attention seemed gripped by the night and the unsettled trees and the passing time. Finally he turned back to me, his black hair whipping in the wind, that energy inciting a storm. “We have tonight.”

God, I wanted it. To give up and give in.

“What if it hurts when you leave?” I whispered.

Some kind of old sorrow lashed through his expression, and he stepped forward, so gentle as he cradled my face in his hands. The words were so much softer than the first time he’d uttered them to me. “Baby…don’t you get it yet? I’m not worth the pain.”

I touched his cheek, my fingers fluttering across his lips. They parted with a breath.

I wished he knew how much he was. That I saw so much more.

“Blue,” he whispered again.

Soft, gentle seduction.

Cruel.

Manipulation.

“I hate you,” I attempted, but tears were already gathering in my eyes.

Exposing. Revealing. Unveiling.

One fell, streaking down my cheek. A single droplet of hazard and hope.

His exhale sounded in relief, and he slowly gathered me in the security of his arms. He pressed my cheek against his heart that ran wild. The man was a bundle of mayhem, pushing and pulling and confounding. Yet in his arms, everything became so clear.

“There she is. Blue. My beautiful, brave Blue. I thought I’d lost her.” Fingers played through my hair, moving back to my face where he forced me to look at him.