Page 161 of Ruthless Chaos

Tara shakes her head, sitting up in the bed. “No, you didn’t. I expected you to get back a few hours ago, so I’ve been waiting for you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why were you?”

She’s never done that before. At least, not to my knowledge. It fills me with a strange sense of warmth to know Tara’s looking out for me like that.

“Because you’re going off to god knows where with Alexander every night,” she says, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “You aren’t going back to Kingmaker. I know because I checked. I guess I’m just a little worried.”

“That’s sweet of you, Tara,” I giggle. She seems absolutely flustered by this, and it all seems so out of character for her. “I’m fine, I promise. We have a secret spot.”

She pushes off the bed and walks over. I’m sitting on the edge of mine. With two hands on my shoulders, she forces me to stand up.

“Go take a shower.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “I’m too tired to,” I whine.

She leans in to sniff me then grimaces. “You smell like sex, Al. You have to. At least a quick bath.”

I take a whiff of myself, and she’s right.

In the heat of the moment the smell is intoxicating, but now it’s pungent. Reluctantly, I get off the bed. My legs scream in protest, but I force myself.

Tara goes ahead of me and starts filling the bath.

She doesn’t leave, even after I peel my clothes off and step into the vat of steaming water. She takes a seat on the counter across from the clawfoot bathtub and just stares at me. This is weird.

“Is everything okay, Tara?” I ask, lowering myself into the water. The heat feels like a salve to my bones, and I close my eyes, relishing the relief it brings. “You’re being a little strange.”

She doesn’t immediately answer. “I’m just concerned about you.”

“What?” I’m confused. “Why?”

“I’m just wondering if this whole thing you have with Alexander is moving too fast for you.”

Her words don’t make sense. “Too fast for me?”

"The past few days, you haven’t seemed like yourself,” she begins. “It’s like he’s taken over your entire life.” She frowns. “Look at you, you’re covered in bruises and marks, Al. It seems so…intense. Are you sure everything is ok?”

At her words, I look down at myself.

My skin is littered with marks from Alexander’s teeth, his mouth, his fingers. Some of them hurt to touch. I’ll have to wear long sleeves and a turtleneck to class tomorrow.

“It’s not like that at all,” I say to her, shaking my head. “I just feel more alive around him. I mark him too.”

Alexander’s back probably looks like he got attacked by a cat—I found some of his skin under my fingernails last night.

I don’t know how to explain it to Tara in a way she’ll understand.

I want it like this.

When we have sex, I need the pain first.

I don’t know how to tell her that I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m not around him, that every waking thought is consumed by him and the way he makes me feel, that every mind-blowing orgasm tips my world off its axis, andI want it over and over again.

No, she would think I’m crazy.

What Alexander and I have is different.

It works for us. It works for me.