Regretting You (Blackthorn Elite #4) - J.L. Beck Page 0,1
in disgust, and I want to punch myself in the cock for thinking about her that way. But such an emotion is impossible to turn off. Even after all this time, she still smells the same, like jasmine and vanilla.
Forget it. Forget her.
Pushing everything but the hate down, I drown myself in the anger and reach for her. My fingers digging into her shoulder. The pads of my fingers burn where I touch her. A gasp escapes her lips as I force her to turn to face me. When I push her back against the brick wall, I become mesmerized, watching as the air expels from her chest.
She’s nothing but a bug, a useless tiny bug, and I’m going to squish her.
“Either you’re incredibly stupid, or you have a death wish… tell me, which one is it?” I cock my head to the side, examining her shocked features.
Her pink lips part and her hazel eyes widen with confusion, then recognition, and finally fear. It’s been years since I saw her last, but as far as I can tell, she looks the same, everything but her hair that is. Her heart-shaped face is framed by long blonde hair. It’s a far cry from the chocolate brown she used to be, but I like it better. It makes it easier for me to see her as the killer and less like the girl I used to love. Then it hits me. Is she trying to hide?
My gaze drifts from her lips and over to the scar that mars the right side of her face, the skin is raised and a soft pink, that’s faded tremendously over time. With a bit of makeup, it’s barely noticeable, but I know it’s there. I will never forget.
Even with the scar, her beauty is indescribable. She still looks like a goddamn angel sent from heaven. Which I hate more than anything. The thought ignites my anger for her further, and like a match meeting gasoline, I explode. I don’t even think as my hand wraps around her delicate throat.
Her pulse thunders under my grip, but she doesn’t make an effort to fight me off or run away. I make note of how strange that is but push the thought away before it can latch onto my subconscious. Focusing all my attention on her, I visualize how easy it would be to give her the same fate my sister had been given. Burning rage simmers just beneath the surface, and I squeeze tighter, ignoring her whimper and the fear pooling in her eyes. What kind of person does it make me if I want to watch the life fade from her eyes?
Good? Evil? Bad? I haven’t decided yet. See, I wasn’t always like this. I used to love Kennedy, but now I’d rather watch her drown. While my sister had died that night, Kennedy was able to cover up the single scar she’d been given. Studying her closer, I notice the slight tremble of her body and enjoy that I’m causing her so much fear.
Backed into a corner with nowhere to go, I smile cruelly down at her. I’m a good foot taller than her, not that height matters. Trapped in my web, I could do whatever I wanted to her. She’d never be able to fight me off. If I wanted to break her open and see what’s inside, I could. At the thought, my grip on her tightens, my fingers digging into her flesh.
“Jackson…” She gasps but doesn’t make a move to fight me off.
Narrowing my gaze to her face, I inspect her as if I could figure her out with a single look. Maybe I can use having her here to my advantage. I can make her suffer, make sure that my sister gets the revenge she deserves.
Death would most definitely be kinder to her than I ever would be.
“It’s your fault. All your fault, and now you dare come here… to Blackthorn?” The words claw from the back of my throat and out of my mouth as I pull her away from the wall just to push her back again. The back of her head bounces off the wall slightly, and her hazel eyes bulge as if she didn’t expect me to do what I just did.
It takes everything in me to not squeeze her throat any harder than I am. I want to hurt her, break her, make her feel my pain, and yet, an invisible rope holds me back, refusing to