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“What kind of monster doesn’t even have a heart?” he asks. Pretty sure that’s a rhetorical question, and the answer is all of them. Isn’t that, by definition, what makes us monsters?
“You don’t need one,” I tell him. And I mean it. I don’t have a heart. “I’m not looking for a guy with a heart. I’m not even looking for romance. Just someone I can trust and get a good dicking from, from time to time.”
I give Nightshade a sideways glance but he says nothing more.
“Fine. Then I’ll take my leave,” I say, about to start searching for the infirmary. He grabs my elbow and pulls me back to him, holds me there with a vice grip.
“What am I to you?” he asks, his tone low and urgent.
I shake my head in exasperation. “You’re an obnoxious asshole.”
“You know exactly what I mean,” he snaps softly.
“I can’t answer that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you won’t thank me for it,” I reply.
“I’ll kill you if I find out I’m important to you.”
A smile tugs at my lips at his words, and he scowls when he sees it.
“What?”
“Glad to know you’re honest.”
“Why would you think that?” His tattooed brows are drawn so closely together they almost touch, and if he didn’t look so damn fierce, it would almost be comical. Except, it’s not. It’s really fucking scary, and even fucking sexier.
“Because you’ve already told me that you’ll kill me,” I clarify.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Nightshade says, sighing heavily. “I just want to get this over with.”
“This?” I raise a brow.
“Yes, this.”
His lips crash down on mine in a devouring kiss. His hands find purchase on my hips, caressing there, then gripping me hard enough to bruise. I can’t get enough. My heart is racing, my pheromones are pumping, my sex is aching with need. I want him. I feel like my throat is alight, like liquid fire has replaced my blood and is burning through my veins. His kiss makes me feel powerful, like I could knock down the walls of this building with my bare hands and swim all the way to the mainland. But as the kiss continues, as the burn in my throat intensifies, as my body responds to his…I feel like I’m losing myself.
This is not who I am. This is not what I want. I’m a monster too, and like Nightshade said, monsters don’t have hearts. I don’t want this, I need to get a grip. I’m not supposed to feel this way.
Breaking the kiss, I push Nightshade away and take a couple of steps back. Immediately, I ache to return to him. I try to come up with the most scathing insult that I can think of. What comes out of my mouth is: “I like you.”
And I hate myself for saying it, I hate myself for meaning it, I hate myself for not hating Nightshade.
I turn and bolt for the infirmary.
I fucking hate myself.
He doesn’t follow me.
When I get to the infirmary after only a few wrong turns, I storm up to the doctor. She looks up from her charts to greet me. “Ah, Kayla... I’ve been expecting you.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” I growl.
“Of course.” She nods, going along with my rude tone.
She comes around from her desk to pick up a roll of bandages from a table. Tearing off a long piece, she hands it to me. “Go on.”
