Chaos poked him again, and Blake welcomed the pain this time. This pain will remind me why I shouldn’t find her.
Blake hated his weakness, but he let the pain transport him back to the clearing, to her face. He vowed it would be the last time, but he wanted to remember her noises and panting as he tasted her soft skin. She smelled like cinnamon.
Blake tried to see her face in his memory: trusting Livia, submitting to his hands and tongue. Instead he saw her pain as she told him she didn’t see his skin turn to glass in the sun. She’d tried to hide her knowing.
Brave, beautiful Livia. She’d stood there waiting and never even flinched when he ran past. He could have plowed into her. Blake knew what it took to stay still when your mind screamed Run! A person had to find a place inside to die while things they didn’t want happened to their body.
Number 134 was one of the best. Livia had dropped her cell phone and cursed quietly, but creatively: “Hairy-ass bitch.” She’d felt Blake’s watchful eyes on her and given him an embarrassed smile. Number 134 made Blake realize she was a real, live girl.
On that day he’d had hope. Maybe a girl flawed enough to curse would someday say hello out loud. To him.
Number 1 was the hardest to think about now. After. But Blake let himself go there as Chaos pressed into the deepest punctures.
Blake liked the train station because the trains offered reliable percussion for the songs he played in his head. When Livia had first stepped onto the platform, Blake had tried his hardest not to stare. He knew moneyed people didn’t like their women getting ogled by the homeless. But she was so friendly, even in this place where people built their own personal bubbles and stayed in them. When she smiled she looked like a walking ray of the sunshine he had to avoid.
Her eyes had found his and shocked him. Blake was used to the blank, anesthetized eyes of those looking everywhere but at him. Her smile was resuscitation for his soul.
Me! She sees me.
How did I do that to her? Her? Punching trees and screaming? She must have been terrified.
Soon his hands would heal, so he might forget the pain he’d caused her. He’d left her in the woods. Left her. Watching her find her car and punch it with the same delicate hand she’d put so trustingly in his was too much.
I don’t have anything to pay you with now,” Blake said, turning toward Chaos. “But just tell me how much, and I’ll make sure this debt is paid.”
Chaos shrugged. “Dude, I owe Beckett. Just let him know.”
Blake nodded and stood. Of course. Everyone owes Beckett something.
There. Now as long as I have my arm, I’ll remember to stay away from Livia McHugh.
He rolled down the sleeve on his filthy shirt, covering the bloody, freshly tattooed word: Sorry.
Your Blake is mourning something. I think that pain is manifesting as his glass-skin delusions. You’re going to have to approach him as if he’s in one of those tents I walk into. My advice is this: Listen, Livia. Listen to him. Saying words out loud can heal.
Debra AnastasiaInstead of sounding like a Beckett-style threat, Dr. Lavender’s observation solidified something. Livia would live for love. Today will count.
Debra AnastasiaIn the sanctity of this place, the center of his purpose, Kyle was everywhere he looked. He almost laughed when he remembered how he’d questioned Livia’s devotion to Blake after knowing him such a short time, but he didn’t make a sound. Even a week with Kyle would feel like forever. Cole looked over at the two pews where they’d stood when he first saw her.
When their eyes locked it had been like a head-on collision—jarring, shocking, and something he wasn’t fast enough to stop. When their hands touched, their souls had stepped out of their bodies and joined. But Kyle and Cole could only stand in shocked stillness. Cole knew at some point he’d sent Livia on her way, his eyes never leaving Kyle.
His sole focus had been on keeping her. That was all he knew for sure. He had to keep her there until his soul was done seducing hers. Eventually they’d moved to sit next to each other. His soul had begun an intimate exploration of hers, without asking his permission, and Cole had to talk as if he wasn’t affected at all. As he gazed at Kyle, her wide eyes made him believe she felt exactly the same.
Cole had made this commitment to save Beckett from hell. So he had to keep it, no matter how endlessly his soul cried in the corner of the church, begging and reaching for Kyle. At that moment he’d built a wall between her soul and his. Confusion turned to anger, which turned to panic as Kyle tried desperately to bring him back, to reconnect.
She tried to kiss the truth out of him, but he turned his head and held her at bay. She fell to her knees, but he just shook his head. His future was predetermined. Even if banishing this newborn love sliced his heart in half, it had to be done.
« prima precedente
Pagina 22 di 60.
prossimo ultimo »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.