Page 25 of The Blood we Crave

My control wavers, shakes beneath her words.

“I owe you?” I say calmly—too calmly. I rotate my body towards her once again, stepping through the weeds so that I’m in her personal space, so that cherries invade me once again.

I’m up on her so quickly that she stumbles back, and my hand snatches her arm. My pale fingers curl around her bicep, so pliable and weak in my grasp. I dig into her, making a small, incoherent whimper slip from her mouth.

I could do whatever I wanted to her right now. And she’d let me, wouldn’t she?

Touching people like this makes me sick. But touching her? It makes me want to peel my skin off and toss it in the washing machine. My eyes slit, glaring so hard that I see her body withdraw from it.

“I don’t owe you afuckingthing, Scarlett,” I sneer, practically spitting the words on her face. “You want to learn how to kill people so badly? Then you can schedule a visit at Rimond Penitentiary. He owes you, not me.

“You. Are. Not. My. Problem.” Each word makes my grip tighten on her arm, squeezing so hard I can feel her humerus bone. “Now, get out of my sight because I’m seconds away from snapping your neck.”

A gasp hits my ears, and I expect it to be because she is in pain. That she is in fear for her life or desperate to run away from me. Except she doesn’t try to wiggle out of my hold. No, she remains completely still.

Unaffected. Unafraid of me.

“You—” Her bottom lip trembles, “You don’t cuss. Ever.”

I grind my teeth together, and I swear if I crack a tooth because of Lyra Abbott, I will be pissed. That’s what she caught from that? Just that? What is wrong with—

My spine stiffens.

I don’t curse.

I don’t do this. I do not snap and lash out.

I’m calculated. I am in command.

I have dissected human bodies and listened to men beg for their lives. She will not be the reason I lose even an inch of my control. I refuse to let her.

My hand jerks back, deep red dots where my fingers were just painting on her skin. I quickly wipe my hand on my shirt, like I could rid myself of the feeling of her by dusting it off.

I want away from her. I want her gone. Far, far away from me.

I want—

Without another word, I spin around, determined to put as much space between us as possible. She should never have opened her mouth to me. I should have never gone to find her.

Seconds. That’s all it takes to snap everything back into place, to check myself.

I take a deep breath, straightening my watch and flicking off imaginary dust from my black shirt. The fact I’m participating in something that doesn’t allow me to wear a suit is a tragedy.

As I move forward, I see the back of Alistair’s dark hair several feet in front of me near the shore, a welcome distraction.

“What if I win tag tonight,” she says in a rush, her footsteps thudding in my ears as she chases after me. “If I win tonight, then you have to teach me how to kill people. How to live with what your father did.”

For the love of—wait.

“What do I get if you don’t?” I ask, slowing my walk and keeping my eyes on the group up ahead.

Her breathing is erratic as she comes to a stop just behind me. “What?”

A feline smile curls on my face as I turn gently. “The more important question is, what do I get if you lose?”

Her eyebrows do that thing again, twitching and turning downwards as she looks at me.

“Oh, I thought it was obvious. I won’t ask again, I’ll leave you alone, I’ll stop—” She pauses. “I’ll leave you alone.”