Page 9 of On Edge

Tears burn the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away to see. I can’t cry. I refuse to. Not in front of this monster.

Panting hard, I stare up at him as he glares down at me. I can see his face more clearly now that it’s visible in the soft light. He’s devastatingly beautiful…and utterly terrifying, with his eyes dragging over me like hot coals as though he can see right through me.

But the heat from his gaze is unexpected.

For a heartbeat, something electric passes between us as he slowly, almost languidly, takes in every curve beneath my silk pajamas, seemingly committing me to memory. As lightningflashes again, illuminating him for a heartbeat longer, I’m struck by green his eyes are. The very few photos of Troy Severin that I might have looked at obsessively before I came here didn’t do his eyes justice at all. They are striking, beautiful…like two fractured emeralds.

Remember who this man is.

Beautiful or not, he’s the monster from my nightmares, right here in front of me, holding me down on his bed. The media portrays him as untouchable, alluring, and yet so very dangerous. The kind of red flag women run toward. The type born to ruin girls like me.

And Nell.

But as his thumb unconsciously brushes against my pulse point.

And the storm outside flashes.

His scratched-out words catch me off guard, sinking in like a serrated knife. “You look just like her.”

With no warning at all, he kisses me.

3

SAGE

Darkness follows, swallowing us both, despite the lamp’s glow, leaving me with the impression of a man too agonizingly beautiful to be my sister’s killer, and a burning desire to scream.

His mouth on mine is consuming.

That’s the only word I have for it. It’s unexpected and unwelcome; his teeth tear into me, his lips hard yet soft, burn me into submission. His delicious cologne—cedar, leather, and something darker—invades my senses, making my insides coil and my heart thunder inside my chest.

So much so that I surrender for a few seconds.

The only kisses I’ve had before this were clumsy ones that felt awkward from beginning to end. And lasted too long.

Not like this, where it’s sharp and intruding, where every part of me is paralyzed, yet pliant. Where I’m pinned down, and all I can feel is how solid he is, and all I can taste is his dominance burying me alive, as well as the sweet tang of copper.

A low moan escapes me, as heat spreads through me like an inferno where before was nothing. He growls in response, at least that’s what it sounds like…

Feels like.

It’s like being devoured.

Then it dawns on me. I can taste pennies—there’s blood in my mouth.

I scream into his mouth.

He jerks back, staring down at me with insidious green eyes, blazing at me, which quickly fade to a hard frost.

“I thought…you were her.”

I stare in the dark, too stunned to speak. There’s blood on his lips, and it’s not mine. On his neck, his cheek, spattered across his white shirt. How could I not see it before?

Because he’s a monster.

A feeling of utter terror returns, and along with it, the hate-fuelled resolve I’ve held on to for so long, spreading over my body, cold and steady, stitching me back together. It helps me find my voice.

“I get told that a lot now she’s dead.” The words slip out, barely a whisper.