Page 16 of Hellebore

She is a little tipsy. I see it in the way her balance wavers when she decides to climb down from the high table. My body moves before my mind catches up. I stride through the crowd, cutting between the dancing bodies and I reach her the exact moment her foot slips.

Her back is to me. I reach out without thinking, one hand wrapping around her waist, the other catching her arm. The moment my palms touch her skin my entire body freezes.

She is so soft. Warmer than I expected. Her waist fits perfectly under my hands, delicate and strong at the same time. Her top brushes my knuckles. Her scent, sweet cinnamon mixed with something darker, hits me so hard my knees almost buckle.

This is the first time I have ever touched her.

Years of dreaming, of carving her name into every wall of my cell, and this is the first time my hands have been on her.

I shouldn’t have touched her, but she was going to fall. She would have hurt herself. I couldn’t let that happen.

Still… the feel of her skin lingers, burning against my palms even after I force myself to let go. I want more. I want to pull her back against me, slide my hands under that lace, feel every inch until I memorize the exact temperature of her body. I want to drag her home to Hellebore and never let anyone else get close enough to touch this soft skin.

She turns. Those blue eyes, still the same blue I used to drown in, meet mine. “I’m so sorry—” she says, that sweet, kind voice I remember.

My Briar. The one I have never heard directed at me before.

I don’t think she has ever spoken a single word to me, and this is not the time.

I nod once, silently, then step past her into the crowd before the urge to grab her and drag her out of here snaps the last thread of my control.

I stop at the bar on the opposite side, pull the mask down just enough to breathe, and grip the edge of the counter until my knuckles turn white.

“Fuck!” I grunt under my breath.

She changed, yes. I still miss the old her, the soft, sunlight version, but fuck me if she isn’t driving me insane in a completely new way. The gothic creature she has become is poisoning me from across the room, and I am letting it happen.

My hands still burn where they touched her.

I want more.

God help me, I want so much more.

I shove the mask back over my mouth and nose, forcing my breathing to slow. I need to keep an eye on her. Keep her safe. That is all that matters.

I turn, scanning the pulsing red haze of the dance floor. There she is.

Dancing alone.

Lucille is gone, vanished with some random guy, leaving Briar completely exposed in the middle of all these hungry eyes. I don’t like that. Not one fucking bit. That girl needs a lesson. If I wasn’t here, who knows what could have happened to my Briar. Shitty friend. Useless.

I stare at her through the smoke and strobing lights. She moves slowly now, almost lazily, hands sliding up and down her torso. Her long black hair catches the crimson glow and shines, falling almost to her hips with every sway. Fuck. I can’t stop the image from slamming into me, my fist wrapped tight in that black hair, yanking her head back while I pound into her from behind, bending her over until she forgets every other man who ever looked at her.

The fantasy burns so hot my vision starts to tunnel but the leather-jacket dick is back.

The fuck is this asshole doing?

He’s circling closer, that same smug smirk on his face, holding up something small and purple, her lipstick. It must have fallen when I caught her. How the fuck did I miss that? I was too busy memorizing the feel of her waist under my hands, too busy trying not to drag her out of here right then.

Now he’s using it as an excuse to lean in close, whispering something against her ear. And she’s letting him. She’s fucking letting him. That flirty little smile curves her lips again, the same dangerous smile she gave her reflection in the mirror earlier.

Disappointment slices through me.

This isn’t my Briar. The sweet girl I knew would never let some random leather-jacket prick get that close. She would blush and look away. She would stay mine even when she didn’t know it.

Rage and jealousy twist together in my chest until I can barely breathe. My hands curl into fists so tight the knuckles crack. The bass of the music vibrates through my bones, but all I hear is the roar of my own blood.

Oh no.