glance at Cassian. His gaze narrows. The words he uttered to me earlier, ringing true.
I do like her.
More than I should.
If I were a good person, a moral person, I would walk away and allow her to meet someone who can offer her a happy life. She’s eighteen, old enough to have a boyfriend, but the thought of any guy touching her sends the poisonous emotion—jealousy—racing through my veins.
I know I can never let her go. Not now that I’ve tasted her mouth, felt her body mold to mine. As much as I should make sure this is nothing more than a short fling, while our folks aren’t home, I have a feeling it’s nothing near the one night stands I used to crave.
She’s mine.
And I know I can’t walk away from her.
18
Nesrin
When I reach the living room, all three brothers are staring at me as I walk through the doorway. I’m dressed in black, just like Damien asked me to be, with sneakers and a hoodie.
“What are we doing?”
Three sets of eyes pin me to the spot. But it’s Damien who speaks, “We’re playing a game of hunting the prey. Finders Keepers.” His voice is deep. A baritone that sneaks through my veins and slides all the way over me, until it settles between my legs in a pulse of desire.
“Hunt?”
“Do you remember what I told you about going into the garden at night?” he asks, his dark brow arching and the corner of his mouth kicking into a familiar smirk that deepens his dimples.
“I do,” I croak, the memory sending heat to my cheeks.
“You have a count of ten, after that, you’re prey. We’ll come after you.” He crosses his arms, his gaze boring into me in challenge. Perhaps he’s expecting me to refuse, to stop this stupidity because that’s what it is. But what Damien Thorne doesn’t bank on is me racing by him and out the door into the dark garden.
There’s only a sliver of moon that illuminates my way, but other than that, I’m on my own. By the time I see the property line, I know I’m fucked because I can hear the soft footfalls behind me.
Their voices, grunts, are so close, it’s as if I can feel the warmth of their breath in my neck causing goose bumps to dot my skin. I’m not a great runner, but the thought of them catching me has my feet moving quickly. I don’t know how this is meant to stop my self-harm addiction, but for some unknown reason, I trust Damien to know what he’s doing.
My breath is coming in short spurts, my eyes try to adjust to the darker surroundings, as I race through the too tall trees. Under the shroud, I can’t see the moon anymore. Every now and then, there’s a sliver of light that escapes.
“I’m coming for you, wild rose,” Damien’s shout bounces off the trunks, reaching me in a dark promise that makes my heart slam against my ribs. Usually, the pain of cutting myself releases the anxious feelings, the darkness that swirls in my mind, but right now, those emotions are no longer here.
My focus is on the race, on the game, rather than the thoughts in my mind. It’s freeing not having voices telling me I’m not good enough, or that I’m broken, damaged goods.
I’m not sure where I’m going, but I can hear the crack of branches, every now and then, as they start closing the distance. I take a left, rushing through the thick trunks. With every step, I feel another scrape as the branches attack my legs, but I’ve never felt such a rush.
Having Damien understand what I need has shocked me. As I move in the darkness, I find myself forgetting the stress of my life and focusing solely on the euphoria snaking through me.
“I’m coming for you, little sis,” a voice startles me, causing my legs to move even quicker. Finn is close, so damn close. His footsteps crunch behind me, and I turn left, hoping he’ll go right.
“You can’t hide in here,” Cassian’s words trickle over me. Both brothers are moving fast, they’re closing the distance between us, and if I don’t do something quickly, they’ll catch me. I turn right, then left. My mind free of the worries of everyday life, of my mother, and school. The only thing that matters is the darkness that’s swallowing me as I move through the trees.
I find myself drenched in darkness and sweat. Stopping