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The location is further out from Long Island, about two hours of driving. We could all catch the jet and be there in ten minutes, but what better way to get her in one space with me?
“In case we lose each other, you’ll have our exact point on these, including the location of Victor.” I point out. Mal and Boone prepare for their departure; Anita straightens, walking past me to hitch a ride with them until I extend my hand blocking her path, her breast bumping right into my palm. She glares up at me, fire burning in her dark eyes, the plumpness in her lips pinching, preventing her from lashing out. And that only makes me roused, receiving something from her besides nothing.
“You’re with me.”
Chapter 35
Ronan
Shadow in the Woods
Islam the door, fitting myself comfortably in the driver’s seat. Shrugging off my wool coat and resting it in the back. I wait patiently, soaking in the warm air that’s filling the truck. I already turned it on remotely before getting inside. The temperature is dropping by the day, and soon snow will surround these sticks and rocks. A minute later, she swings open the door, letting in a wave of chilly air. She gets in smoothly, wearing a coat over her clothes. The smell of her invading the car and instantly making my cock hard.
Fuck.
I crunch down on my teeth, focusing forward on the cobblestone road ahead.
We drive off, heading to our destination. The goal is to make sure we know what we’re working with, how the structure is, the area, the surrounding. If it’s an easy escape, are there men lined outside? I don’t need what happened last time coming into play.
For the first thirty minutes, we drove in our own silence, while the hum of the car interlaces with the whispering of the Hollow City anthem. Fine time to play this fucking song.
Hollow City is a mere black city that makes your fears come alive?…
Occasionally, I’ll look over to catch her looking out the window. The reflection from the tempered glass drawing her face. My heart stings from the look that I’ve felt time and time again.
Hostile, discontent. The world is black smoke, and you’re standing over the ruinous catastrophe. Just watching, waiting.
I glance back at the road, and my hand tightens around the wheel. A part of me wants to make all of it go away for her and see the smiles I desperately crave on that beautiful face. She doesn’t even know she still glows bright, even over the dark inside us.
I take one last look at her as we pass a mountain top, the entire crescent moon in eye shot.
I like to look at her, it’s pleasing to the eyes. I’m not a shitty driver, so I can stay straight for long enough. She turns slightly, her eyes shining through the window; her eyes travel downward, then back up at the moon. Her hand runs the sleeve on her arm, searching in the sky for something I cannot place my finger on.
I finally look back at the road; yes, I’m an expert driver, but if I stare too long, I will eventually run into a tree.
She’ll do that to you, capture you in, and wrap her scaly tail around you until you’re sucked into her sweet warmth.
My little sweet venom.
No not,mine. I have reached a conclusion. I can’t allow her to see this other part of me, this ugly part that consumes me until I’m shrinking and weak. How can she want me when I don’t even want myself?
Hollow city is a mere black city that makes your fears come alive…?fuck off.
I resist the urge to touch the scar on my lip. She shifts in her seat, crossing her leg, and leaning further into the window.
I merge onto the highway, filled with bright yellow headlights and blaring red taillights.
The tension is so high that it’s suffocating; not even letting the window down for air would help it. We need to talk. Although intimate communication is not my forte, it’s unsettling and triggering for me, but when do you bring up the gigantic elephant in the room? I go to speak.
“Why didn't you go to the funeral?” she asks before I can get anything out. My heart drops to my belly, I’m stunned by her question, the wall I placed up now spills over with emotion, it's bubbling in my chest from the memory. The part of my life I regret the most. I lock my jaw while I try to swallow the tightening in my throat.
“I-.” Nothing comes out. I grip the steering wheel.
“If anyone should have been there. It should’ve been you,” she says it almost as a whisper, one loaded in grief that she probably never had. She clears her throat then looks at me.
“You’re right.”
“Then why?”