Page 60 of On Edge

“You also forgot that she’s dead.”

“Convenient that she is, and now suddenly you’re here.”

My chest feels tight, and my body feels like it’s been tossed into a sinkhole, and I’m still falling, suffocating slowly. Which is funny, considering I’m the one being sat on. “What do you mean?”

He cocks his head, jaw clenching. “I think you know.”

I don’t know. And I want him to tell me and stop being so cryptic, but I also don’t think I can believe a word he says, either.

“Just let me go.” I jab him with the bluntest knife ever. My hand wrapped around the cool metal handle still isn’t steady. The whole of me is a mess. I bet I don’t look threatening at all.

But he murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it.

“There’s my little blade.”

Then his mouth twitches, but he does as I ask, giving me space to scrabble back on the stairs, fixing my clothing. When he doesn’t try to stop me, keeping the knife pointed, I edge back. Then turn and run back to my bedroom.

He doesn’t follow me.

I’m not sure what I would have done if he had.

I can’t sleep after that, not even with a chair against the door, and me safely underneath the bed. The feel of his hands and lips still echoes over my tight skin, making me feel like I’ve lost something that I don’t remember having in the first place. Trying to forget what happened is impossible. My body aches in places I never knew existed, my nerves thrum with a need I never knew I craved.

Why the hell did he do that?

And why the hell did I let him?

It’s been…well,neversince I had sex with anyone. That must be the reason. These feelings are all so new, and of course, I’m curious.

So very curious.

I’ve kissed guys before. I’ve even had boyfriends. I’ve just never let any of them go all the way for fear of my father finding out and disappearing the poor guy on a one-way fishing trip to the bottom of the river.

Maybe my body is literally starved of affection? And every time a gorgeous man like Troy Severin is near, it’s like walking into a room full of mouthwatering, delicious food and being allowed to taste, but not swallow, a single bite.

Could it be that I’m so broken, being so close to a man who literally embodies the phrasehandsome devil—living in his house, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed—has awokensomething inside me I hoped was gone. Now the slightest touch drives me to the point of insanity?

I reach down and place a shaking hand between my legs. The silky material is still damp, and the need to release myself burns deep within, but every time I think about it, Nell’s face swims into view.

No. I can’t do it.

I can’t get myself off to Nell’s killer.

What kind of sister does that make me?

Yanking my hand away, I turn over, smushing my face into my pillow instead. My mind is racing with all kinds of thoughts, my body wired like I’ve just gone and plugged myself into an electrical socket and walked away.

All I can do is focus on what he said, because what he did to me just now is too much for me to deal with. Like, what did he mean when he said that it’s convenient that Nell is dead, and now I’m here? Is he saying things to confuse me? To hurt me?

I don’t know.

I’m scared I’ll never know.

At least my headache has gone.

Eventually, I pass out with those thoughts tangled up in my mind, my body aching, torturing me until the early hours of the morning.

The next day,the wind is picking up again, and so is the chaos in my mind.