Page 58 of Misted

Only her.

“You won’t die.” She throws me a scowl.

“You won’t put yourself in danger. Is that understood?” I bite out.

“I promise if you promise not to put yourself in danger.” She leans in and seals her lips to mine. What starts as a slow peck transforms into a passionate swirl of my tongue against hers. I pull away because I’m dangerously tempted to rip her clothes off.

“Why are you always pushing me away?” She crosses her arms and sulks.

“You’re not ready.”

“I am.” She curls the hem of my T-shirt in her fist. “I’ve always been ready for you.”

“Hellion…”

“I want you.” She runs her lips on my scruff, staring up at me with vulnerable eyes. “Do you not want me?”

I push my erection into her, so she’d know the effect she has on me. “Can’t you see how much I need you, Hellion?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but I’m already devouring her mouth. Tongue against tongue, skin against skin, and heart against heart.

I do my best to take it slow, to kiss every inch of her body, over every scar and every blemish. I want to engrave myself under her skin and never leave again.

Still kissing her senseless, I make love to her, whispering how beautiful she is. How much I can’t stop thinking about her or looking at her. That if she ever leaves me, I’ll turn the earth upside down until I find her.

Present,

I throw away the cigarette, not bothering to finish it.

The promise I made to her all those years ago still lurks inside me like an actual being. This is the perfect opportunity to act on it.

I stalk back to the house with determination buzzing in my veins.

I freeze at the entrance.

Of course, I didn’t expect to find Mist here. I thought she would be in the room, showering or something. What I see on the table twists my stomach.

Blood. Lots of fucking blood soaks the table and the drapes red.

Fucking hell. What has she done?

As I approach the table, my heart beats the loudest since I’ve come out of The Pit.

My fear turns into pure fucking anger. On the table lies a tracker. The same tracker I planted inside her arm on our way to France. She cut it out of her skin like a fucking crazed animal.

She used her blood to write on the table.

‘You will never have me.’

We’ll fucking see about that.