Page 35 of Atone

But the moment I tip my head back against his chest and look up at him, his gaze becomes frighteningly black. The connection snaps whatever tether was pulled tight, and he grabs my wrists again, pinning my hands down. Anger radiates from him.

He shakes his head only once, and I read the warningloud and clear. He’s at that edge of control, silently begging me not to test him.

Alex lifts a hand to my hair, forcing my attention back to the mirror. We’re two waves crashing in an ocean, breaking on each other.

“Please, Alex,” I whisper, staring at his blurry shape. “What are we doing?”

Alex presses close, dropping his nose to the top of my head and breathing me in again. But it’s not sweet this time. He’s a predator sizing me up. Deciding the easiest way to swallow me whole.

Alex lifts a hand, grazing the side of my throat with his fingertips. His touch is barely a whisper on my skin. It tickles and burns and sends an icy chill down my spine all at the same time.

He extends his hand to the mirror in front of us and starts to slowly drag a finger through the condensation, drawing letter after letter.

The deeply scarred flesh that stretches his forearm is close enough for me to get a good look at it. I always assumed his burns were caused by fire, but I’ll never forget what flames do to skin when the smell of it holds my nightmares hostage. Seeing Alex’s scars now, I realize he was marked by something else.

Boiling water?

A hot iron?

How many things cause that deep of damage?

My breath races.

My heart is a hummingbird’s song beneath my ribs.

Alex’s hips pin me to the counter. So hard, my bones hurt. But I don’t pull away. I don’t fight him.

I came herefor him.

I watch as he writes me a message on the dewy mirror’ssurface. The first word is already disappearing as he finishes the last. His hazel eyes watch me through the clean lines of the letters, and I’m met with living, breathing rage from a man people write off as dead.

When he finally drops his hand, I read his message.

You shouldn’t have come here.

Swallowing hard, I read it again.

My mouth falls open to speak, but I don’t get the chance. With one swift move, Alex practically picks me up and carries me from his room. He sets me on my feet just outside it, and when I spin to argue, I barely get a final look at his cold, practiced stare before the door slams in my face, and I’m left alone in the empty hallway.

11

SLIPPING

ALEX

Shufflingsounds on the other side of the door. A soft thump strikes the wood, and it’s probably Mila’s head as she leans against it. I flatten my palms on the surface and try to ignore how her heartbeat vibrated against her chest. How her breath tickled my neck.

How she touched me.

Deep breath in.

Steady breath out.

I close my eyes, but all I see are hers staring back. Broken and begging me to answer the question she’s too scared to say out loud. One I wouldn’t answer even if she did.

Some lines can’t be crossed. She wouldn’t survive it.

I lift off the door, leaving her alone on the other side. Feeding that hate she’ll stir until she forgets that I ever walked into her life.