Page 11 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

“You being somewhere on the island isn’t the same as you being there with me .

” She sighs, extending her legs and folding her hands between her thighs.

Her feet swing from side to side, as she’s unable to ever fully sit still.

“We’re barely a month in, and I can feel the difference.

I didn’t mind that people were no longer speaking to me or certain clubs were shunning me, because it’ll all be over next year, right?

We’ll go to Avernia, as long as we both get in, and the people here will forget I ever existed. ”

Impossible , I think, gritting my teeth. No one could ever forget you.

Still, the other part of her sentence fills me with dread, bleak and hollow .

“In the meantime though, I think it’d be smart if I learned to live without you a little bit. You’re not around to take notes for me or stop by and make sure I get somewhere on time. It just feels like I should take some responsibility, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t realize my friendship was such a burden.” I’m not sure why I say it—hate the way her eyes seem to dim with the accusation.

“Not a burden,” she replies, shaking her head. “A crutch. I don’t have to worry about anything, because I know you’re there.”

Throat burning, I look away, down at my lap. I don’t know what to say.

Use me. I don’t fucking mind.

“Hey,” she says, interrupting my thoughts as she leans in.

I shift, turning as she does, noting the way her eyelashes sweep over her cheeks.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Never been able to stop you before.”

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Is that a question, Ms. Bronte?”

Lucy snorts, losing her balance. Her hand comes down on my thigh, gripping tight as she catches herself. “I’m a little drunk, I think.”

The breath whooshes from my lungs, disappearing into the air around us. “It’s definitely possible.”

“Oh,” she says, tilting her chin down to stare at her hand. She flexes her fingers, and I suppress a full-body shiver. “You have really muscular thighs.”

I don’t— can’t reply. I can barely hear anything she’s saying, my brain and nerve endings too focused on the contact. Even through my jeans, her touch feels like an open flame, threatening to swallow me whole.

“Do you… Could I try something?” Lucy asks softly.

Somehow, my tongue finds enough moisture to unstick from the roof of my mouth. “Is that your question?”

She nods.

Clearing my throat, I shift, straightening my spine as I try to subtly move out from under her grip. She doesn’t seem to get the hint, scooting closer even as I inch away.

“S-stay still,” she bites out.

I want to make a quip about how that’s a rich command coming from her, considering the way she can’t seem to stop squeezing me, but then she’s moving in, and I forget how to speak at all.

Her mouth hovers dangerously close to mine. My heart lurches into my throat, expanding so I can barely breathe. I can’t think, certainly not enough to push her away or put a stop to this.

I should put a stop to it.

This is bad . A terrible idea, all things considered.

But I obey her single command and remain as still as a statue. She pushes up, using my leg as leverage, and pinches her eyes shut.

Mine are wide open the entire time.

Sweat lines my palms, but I keep them on the dirt, sure that I’ll fall if I move. I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with them anyway.

If I touch her now, I won’t be able to restrain myself.

“What are you?—”

When her mouth meets mine in the gentlest of kisses, I black out.

For several seconds, not one thought crosses my mind—it’s blank, my vision completely obscured, my brain paused as it tries to process my elation.

Euphoria pulses in my chest, like a sky full of fireworks or supernovas.

Seconds later, I’m back in the clearing, my fingernails digging into the soft earth to keep from tangling in her raven-colored hair or grabbing her hips and pulling her on top of me.

Fuck. My cock stiffens just at the thought, and I shift, attempting to shield the evidence of what she does to me. Not that she’s paying any attention; her eyes are still closed, and her breaths come in short, shallow waves as she parts her lips the tiniest bit.

She tastes like cherry lip balm and booze. I hope I remember the flavor combination for the rest of my life .

Suddenly, I’m curious to know what the rest of her tastes like. If she’d be sweet or tangy—if she’d want me to find out.

My fingers ache to reach for her. To draw her into my arms and release every ounce of tension I’ve been holding onto since realizing that I liked her.

Only her.

These aren’t feelings I’ve harbored for anyone else, and I used to think it was because there was something else going on, like maybe I only liked men or wasn’t interested in sex at all.

Turns out I’m interested, but only where Lucy Aberdeen Wolfe is concerned.

I only want anything with her.

Which is why I know I should stop this kiss and put an end to things before they get any worse.

I don’t.

Stop, that is.

Fuck me, I don’t.

Instead, my hand comes off the ground, slides along her jaw, and dives into her silky hair. I use her roots to angle her head, letting my tongue sweep past her lips to deepen the kiss.

It’s the opposite of stopping.

And when she exhales into me, her palm flattening against my chest, I realize it’s the brightest green light. An invitation if ever there was one.

Her tongue tentatively touches mine, a silent plea. My knuckles feel like they might break from the restraint I’m exercising, resisting the urge to haul her into my arms and never let her leave.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is bad.

“Asher,” she breathes, pulling back for a second before diving in again, redoubling her efforts.

I shiver when her hand falls to my lap, her fingers softly pressing down on the zipper of my jeans.

A small gasp escapes as our mouths switch positions, but I can’t tell if it comes from me or her.

I think I’m in love with you .

My brain screams those seven words, desperate to push them from my lips and into hers.

“What?” she says against me, her teeth bumping mine.

When she squeezes my dick, sending a rush of blood south, panic settles into my bone marrow.

I think I’m in love with you , my brain repeats.

My mouth moves with each syllable, and it takes several seconds for me to realize the words have been spoken out loud.

Heat sears my face, rising to my ears. I withdraw abruptly, keeping my fingers tangled in her hair.

Her eyes shine as she blinks at me, a question flickering in the oceanic depths. “What did you say?” she asks quietly.

Clenching my jaw, I release her and move backward. She didn’t hear me. “I said you need practice.”

Lucy’s wonder fades immediately, like a bucket of cold water splashing on us. “Well, that’s fucking rude.”

“You’re drunk,” I offer, searching for some explanation that’ll fix this. Put things back the way they were. I know she didn’t mean for this to happen. She wouldn’t have kissed me if she hadn’t been drinking. “It’s fine. I’m sure the next guy you kiss will be under different circumstances.”

“I’m not that drunk, Asher. And that was a good kiss.”

Fuck. I don’t know what to do. Or say. Instinct has me locking up, pushing her out. My lips move before I’m ready. “You’re lying.”

Her mouth falls open. “What the fuck is your problem ? — ”

“ You are my problem, Lucy. Always have been.”

It’s mean. Too mean.

It’s not even what I want to say.

But at the end of the day, I’m a coward. My anger bleeds too heavily into every other emotion, and I’m afraid it’ll stain her too.

Fear and anger are driving forces that seek the same thing: complete destruction.

I just let them fuck everything up.

We stare at each other for several beats. Maybe even minutes .

My heart pounds in my throat, closing the airway as silence stretches thin between us. It feels like a million miles separate the distance, though we could probably close it in just a few steps.

Deep down, I yearn to erase the space. Indefinitely.

But I don’t.

Instead, I get up. Brush the dirt from my pants while she continues sitting there, watching me with a stunned expression haunting her face.

And I leave.

“You’re home early,” Mom says when I burst through the front door a half hour later.

She’s sitting in the living room, drinking lavender tea with her younger sister, Ariana, and Ariana’s husband, Cash. Dad’s off to the side, talking quietly on his phone, and I wonder if it’s Foxe’s dad calling to let him know I left the party already.

They lounge on our dark furniture while the television mounted above the gray stone fireplace plays some silent trivia show. The glow of the screen dances on the far dark green wall, and I focus on that while I try to regulate my breathing.

Cash adjusts his glasses, crossing a leg as he takes me in. One of his dark blond brows arches, but he doesn’t say anything.

I’m sure I look like a wild animal, so I appreciate that his judgment is unspoken.

His wife’s, however, is not.

“Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” Aunt Ariana asks, leaning over the arm of the sofa to peer closer at me. “You look like you got dragged three miles through the mud and then took a dip in the ocean to rinse off.”

Glancing down, I note that my clothes and hair are drenched in sweat. I hadn’t even realized it until this moment.

I don’t know when it happened. Maybe when I sprinted across town to get here? Or when I ditched Lucy in the clearing ?

Concern wrinkles Mom’s forehead as she gets a better look at me. “Good God, Asher, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I bite out. “I just walked here from Foxe’s.”

“It’s unlike you to come home without Foxe or Lucy in tow,” Mom notes, gripping her mug with both hands. She gives me one last lingering glance before taking a sip. “Was the party okay?”

“Ah,” Ariana says, slumping back on the cushions. “I’ll bet they had a fight.”

I narrow my eyes at her, and she seems to hold back a grin.

“Oh, not again.” Mom’s face contorts into a mask of worry.

“There was no fight,” I say, kicking the front door shut. I walk into the living area, holding my hands up. “No blood or bruises, see? I’m fine.”

“We wouldn’t be able to see a cracked rib,” Dad chimes in, joining the conversation.

“Better lift up your shirt and show us,” Ariana says, gesturing at me. “Come on, kiddo. Chop-chop. We don’t have all day.”

I look at her husband again, though I already know it’s pointless. Even if he could stop her from being a lunatic, I doubt he would.

“Ariana,” Mom scolds, hiding a smirk behind her wrist.

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” she replies with a shrug, leaning her head on Cash’s shoulder. Her chestnut-colored hair falls over his suntanned arm. “Your kids are always so serious. As the fun, childless aunt and uncle, it’s our job to provide levity.”

“For the record,” Cash adds, like the lawyer he is, “I never said anything.”

Dad chuckles, squeezing Mom’s neck gently. “Trust me, it’s all in the eyes anyway.”

“Going to my room,” I mutter, though they’re no longer even paying attention to me as I head out into the hallway. I take the stairs two at a time, just in case any of the four try to come and get more answers.

I don’t want to talk about this shit ever again, but especially right now.

Stupid, Asher. You are so stupid.

My hands tremble when I get to my room, slamming the door shut with more force than I mean to.

I slide my phone out of my pocket, reading the sixteen missed calls and texts from Lucy and Foxe.

There are even a couple from Aurora, who normally doesn’t care whether I live or die, so Lucy must’ve pressed her to reach out.

Lucy: Are you ok? Did you get sick or something?

Foxe: Where tf did you go?

Aurora: If you went for more booze, could you try to get some of those seltzers we had last time? I’ll pay you back probably.

I delete the notifications, and another comes in.

Lucy: I’m sorry if that was over the line.

Goddammit. I can practically feel her disappointment and confusion.

For years I’ve been starving to kiss her, and when I finally get to, I run away.

Keats scurries out from under my bed when I lie back on it, dropping my phone and covering my face with my arms. My fingers itch, the desire to work out my feelings through sketches welling up inside me, but tonight I punish myself by refusing to create anything.

I’d always hoped to give Lucy Wolfe my first kiss. Nothing else would’ve ever sufficed.

In a perfect world, that would have been all it took for me to get over my insecurities and decide I’m worthy of her.

Tonight should’ve been amazing. My dream come true.

It was , a small voice in the back of my mind insists.

Except now I’ve woven action in with a lie she doesn’t even know about yet, and I have no clue how I’ll ever disentangle myself from this without ruining both our lives.