Page 98 of Lured By Shadows

It dragged me back to those awkward young teenage days, cheeks burning, lungs tight, my heart acting like it was the first to ever feel something so intense. God, that alone was terrifying. I didn’t need to fall back into that kind of vulnerability, not with him being so good at pulling me in with smooth confidence and that edge of sincerity twisting everything inside me, making me want to trust him even when I knew better.

Letting myself believe in him felt like signing up for heartbreak I’d barely survived already, and I wasn’t about to become another girl tangled up in pretty lies from a man whose smile could hide something hollow. I knew better. I’d learned that lesson.

Still… I didn’t pull my hand away.

When I settled into the car, he was already gripping the wheel, his posture perfectly straight like he’d been carved that way. He looked ready to reverse, and my brows knit together in irritation.

“Seatbelt, Culver. What did I say about that last time?” I grumbled because it was like he’d completely ignored me.

“You did mention that before,” he replied smoothly, drawing the seatbelt across his chest and clicking it into place. “Although, I am evermore worried for you than I am for myself.”

There it was again, his way of speaking like he’d stepped out of another century and refused to adapt. I narrowed my eyes at him, half amused, half genuinely confused. “You seriously talk like you’re from the 1800s,” I muttered as I leaned toward the stereo. “Let’s see what you’re listening to today.”

I moved slowly on purpose, waiting to see if he’d stop me. He didn’t. If anything, his gaze encouraged it, silently daring me to press play. So I did.

The cabin filled with classical music, strings soft and sweeping, the kind that belonged in candlelit ballrooms and marble halls. The kind my ma played when she was cleaning and pretending she wasn’t stressed.

I blinked, then sighed dramatically, slumping back in my seat like my soul had just left my body. “Aww, c’mon now,” I complained. “Let me hear what you actually enjoy. Not your fake playlist.”

“I do enjoy listening to Antonín Dvořák,” he retorted, calm and maddeningly composed, his eyes fixed on the road as if my judgment couldn’t touch him.

I grinned despite myself. “Y’know what, I actually believe you.”

His lips twitched into a half-smile before smoothing away. “My sister really likes you.”

I turned my head slowly, suspicion kicking in so fast it stiffened my neck. “Likes me as in…?”

My mind spiraled through every possible interpretation, jumping to all the wrong conclusions. Anna and Liam tangled up in something complicated, open relationships that sounded way too messy, or whatever strange dynamic the Scarbrough family operated under, pulling me deeper into their orbit. For a split second, I even wondered if they were about to recruit me into some dangerously attractive version of chaos that would swallow me whole.

“Whatever you may be thinking,” Culver said sharply, his expression tightening as though he were genuinely offended, “toss the idea. She likes you as a friend.”

Not convincing.

“I’ve heard that before,” I said flatly, because I wasn’t about to let him pretend his family didn’t move like a pack of beautiful wolves with secrets.

He sighed, as if he were tired of himself. “You are correct. I should have been more open.”

I tilted my head, unimpressed. Instead of responding, I pulled out my vape and took a long drag, letting the toffee sweetness fill the car. He wrinkled his nose in that familiar, judgmental way that made me want to do it again out of spite.

“But,” he said, his voice dipping lower, “now that we have had our discussion, I think you shall be even happier with the future interactions between us.”

My face heated so fast I was surprised the windows didn’t fog. His hips pressing into me with that insistent grind, his mouth hovering close enough to my throat that I could feel the tingling brush of his breath, his fingers digging into my waist while our bodies moved together in a desperate, helpless rhythm. My thighs pressed together instinctively as heat flickered through my nerves, the air in the car suddenly feeling thick enough to slice through.

“You’re not special,” I snapped, instinctively reaching for attitude like a shield. My arms crossed, my gaze flicking away. “I mean, I let a guy I’d just met fu—”

Before I could finish, his hand clamped over my mouth. Not rough, but not gentle either, just firm enough to cut me off mid-word like he couldn’t stand hearing the rest. My heartbeat jumped straight into my throat, pulse skittering beneath his palm, and my eyes snapped toward his profile.

“Do your utmost not to remind me that I allowed that mistake,” he murmured, his voice low and edged. “It will never occur again.”

The possessiveness in his tone curled around me like heat, wrapping tight; it should have set off every warning inside me and should have made me pull back hard. Instead, it lit something reckless and dark deep in my chest, a pull that made me want to climb into his lap right then and push him just to see how far he’d go.

So I didn’t pull away.

I leaned forward instead and dragged my tongue slowly across his palm.

The taste surprised me. It was clean, almost neutral. Mineral, like rain hitting concrete. His hand went rigid against my mouth, fingers flexing instinctively, and I caught the faintest hitch in his breath.

My hands slid up his wrist, gripping just enough to guide his hand away. “You were supposed to move your hand after I licked you,” I said smugly, because apparently I’d chosen chaos and decided to dive headfirst into seeing which one of us would break first.