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Vix lets out a little gasp as the cool blade of the knife I hold traces over her. The guys are too immersed in whatever conversation is now taking place to notice the soft pink painting across Sumner’s delicate face.
Shame. It truly is a sight.
I notice the measured rhythm of her chest, the way it heaves unhurriedly. She swallows when I reach her thigh, tracing small patterns over her soft flesh. I’m not pressing hard enough to carve her, not yet. Instead, I toy with the fabric of her shorts, inching the knife’s tip just a little higher.
She releases a low whimper when I slice through the denim, trying to mask it with another bite. A thin line of crimson surfaces against her pale skin from where the blade nicked her. I’m expecting her to pull away again. What she does instead has my own blood rushing. Sumner widens her legs for me, welcoming me. I draw the blade deeper, watching a well of red pool over the exquisite curve of her thigh. Such a deep scarlet. I wonder what it would taste like so low on her body. Any different than the sweetness from her neck?
I’d love to find out.
Lifting the knife—my father’s knife—I run the steel across my tongue, cleaning it of her, then let it fall to her leg again.
Maybe the others see. Maybe they sense the freed blood. Truly, I don’t care either way. This is our game. It doesn’t concern them.
Sumner’s breath shallows, eyes dark as she watches me. I may be certifiably crazy, but she’s not far behind. Vix invites pain like I begrudgingly invite the growing darkness.
The corner of my lip rises, and I help myself to a carrot from my plate, pretending I’m just here minding my business, and no one besides Sumner knows otherwise.
There’s no destination with this game. I won’t touch her past this. I have no desire for the stray at my side. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy her measured breaths, or the way she tries so hard to pretend nothing is happening. Vix may detest me, her body betrays her though.
I raise the blade even higher, so close to too far. She chokes on her next bite, swatting my hand from under the table. Sumner notices the same thing I do. The head of blue that just stepped out to join the party.
Siena would quite literally try to rip Sumner’s head off if she knew where my hand was at this very moment. The faerie is more possessive than usual lately. It’s becoming an annoying habit I intend to break her of. I belong to no one.
I set the knife on my lap so I can wrap my fingers around her, tightening my hold until her cheeks are a flush pink. When she realizes I’m not letting go, and Siena finds herself distracted with Ashen, Sumner lets out a slow exhale. She doesn’t fight me. No. Sumner moves my hand over her, directing it from the center of her thigh to the hem of her very short shorts, stopping when my palm meets the cut which still bleeds a beautiful red.
Not what I was expecting.
Swallowing my next bite, I reposition my hand, rubbing my thumb under the single layer of fabric between us.
I wonder if, behind that denim, she’s wet for me, if the thought of me touching her like this is driving her as crazy as it is me.
I know very well I can’t go further with her. Hell, I shouldn’t have even gone this far, let alone be enjoying it. Something in the can’t makes me want it all the more.
“So, Sumner, you settling in better now?” The question comes from Cedric. She doesn’t answer, and I’m fairly certain that’s because she didn’t hear a damn thing he said.
“She loves it here, isn’t that right, Vixen?”
Sumner wrinkles her brows. “What? No.” I press down on her cut, making her gasp. “Yes!” Her hand moves from mine, gripping the side of the chair, then she quickly rises to her feet, the very chair she just held onto falling back. The sudden commotion makes a scene. All eyes roam over her except mine, which stay casually on the roll I continue to eat.
“Uh, food was great. Thanks,” she stammers, disregarding everything and speed walking to the guest house.
“Was she bleeding?” Siena asks, sitting on the edge of the table between Ashen and Cedric.
“Must have cut herself.” I shrug.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SUMNER
Iwalk down the narrow sidewalk, following closely to Liya. She is bright and vibrant, wearing shimmery eyeshadow and an adorable orange top.
Tonight, she shared some of her vibrancy with me. Well, she tried. I let her do my hair and makeup. Against her advice of bold colors and glitter, I opted for a darker, smoky look, which she did amazingly.
Since coming to Fall Haven, I’ve really been pushing myself to step past my comfort zone, and honestly, I am so damn proud of myself for doing so. I even let Liya talk me into going to this house party tonight, something I would have never even considered before these last few weeks.
We make our way up the crowded front steps, skirting around the mass of bodies already enjoying their night.
I’m bumped from behind and stumble right into ashy blond hair and a smile that could melt most mountains. I straighten, bracing for disappointment because where Ashen is, Rhenn likely is too. Not that I should be surprised, considering this is Ashen’s house. A small detail Liy conveniently failed to mention until we were a block away.
