Page 67 of His Trick

The walls rattled when he stormed out, and I felt my chest crack with it.

I lay there, my heart racing, my body aching, and my skin burning where he’d touched me. Every nerve screamed for him to come back. Yearned to hear the rest of the words he kept from me.

I curled onto my side, staring at the door that had been busted through the plaster.

I was alone, with nothing but the echo of his rage and the taste of his mouth still burning on mine.

I did what I had to do. I knew I would eventually use my only weapon against him. I just never dreamed it was a double-edged sword that would pierce me, too.

Because seeing the pain in Carrington’s eyes…broke my heart.

The motel’s neon sign buzzed like it knew exactly what I was about to do. I lit another cigarette, dragging it deep into my pained chest, tasting smoke and fury mingling together.

You’re just like your father.

Shiloh’s words cut sharper than any blade, carving right into my damn chest, setting fire to every restraint I’d ever kept.

I paced the balcony, my boots scraping rusted metal, my fists clenched so damn hard, blood dripped from my palms. The air was as heavy as my fucking soul, thick with heat and anger.

My mind replayed his words over and over, like a warped record player in my fucked up head. Every syllable felt like a taunt—a challenge I didn’t know how to face.

You have more fucking darkness than you even realize, Sunshine. I kill. I torture, but at least they fucking see me coming.

I muttered curses, pacing around, and throwing the cigarette to the asphalt below. The sparks scattered around until they faded altogether.

Like my fucking heart.

My body ached, not just from the massive blue balls, but from the rage that churned like molten fire inside me. I wanted to break something, someone. Something real and fucking tangible that I could feel succumbing to my control.

“Hey, big boy. How much are you?”

The old bag’s comments made me think of Shiloh’s response from before. It had felt like a sense of ownership then, but maybe he was just trying to avoid anyone coming close. He didn’t want these people in our room, our bed.

Good.

“If you value your neck, walk on, grandma,” I warned, waving her off without moving from my position on the balcony. And that’s when I saw him, leaning against a dented sedan at the far edge of the lot. Slim build, light blond hair, tense and alert eyes…He was not Shiloh, but close enough in build and posture, enough to hit a fucking nerve.

You want to reject me, Sunshine? Let me show you how fucking replaceable you are.

I strode over to the man, long and purposeful steps. He didn’t see me until I caught him by the collar of his shirt. “You staying here?” I said, low, commanding.

“Uh…yeah…room twelve,” he stammered, trying to turn to look at me.

“Not anymore,” I said, shoving him lightly against the car. His eyes widened, fear edged with curiosity. Perfect. Willing enough. “Come with me, pretty boy.”

He hesitated. “Uh..why?”

“Shut up and walk.” I didn’t give him the chance to respond. “Now.”

He followed.

“Good boy.”

Back in the room,Shiloh was on the bed, lying tense, clothed in his pajamas and holding his chest as if it was too tight to breathe. His eyes followed me, wide and wary as I entered the room. He thought I’d cooled down. Thought he had a chance to reclaim control.

Ha.

Get fucking ready, Sunshine.