just a little. I mean to say, I’m sure we’ve wasted enough of each other’s time. We’re parting ways. But he peers up at me, those long lashes teasing me, and what I end up saying is, “You should probably shave your eyelashes. They’re distracting. Good night.”
“Sit down, Ms. Lockwood,” Dr. Vans commands. “The date isn’t over.”
Killian snaps his teeth at the camera before he stands. He peers at me, his eyelids hooded, his lips pink and moist—he’s just run his tongue over them. “I could make you feel good, Ten. After you sober up.” And his voice...his voice is already in bed, naked and waiting for me.
I don’t want a naked boy in bed, waiting for me. Do I?
Oh! Oh! And his scent. Peat smoke and heather wraps around me, a delicious smoke that joins the fog in my head.
“You want to feel good...don’t you?” He’s practically purring.
I try not to shiver. I shiver a lot. The charmer is back, and he’s turned on high.
Turned on? Bad choice of phrase. What is wrong with me?
“I can make myself feel good,” I say and stop breathing. Please tell me I didn’t just utter those words. “How long will you make me feel good?”
“Does it matter? Good is good.”
A nonanswer that is more telling than he probably realizes. He’ll hit and run, and I’ll be left to deal with yet another rejection. “It matters, because I matter. To me! You’ll be done with me the moment I sign with Myriad. Well, I’m going to tell you a secret, and you have to keep it.” I cup my hands around my mouth and whisper-yell, “I may never sign with one of the realms.” Take that, Vans.
Killian’s features twist in a glower. “Why would you do that to yourself? Many Ends offers only pain and suffering.”
“Many Ends may not be real.” I push him away, but he’s strong and backs up only because he chooses. “I just want the freedom to make my own choice without interference. That’s all.”
“You have freedom. You have freedom right now. You had freedom yesterday, and the day before and the day before that. No matter where you are or what you’re doing, you have freedom of choice. You’re so afraid of making the wrong decision, you’re actually stagnant.”
I’m now astounded. He—the evil charmer—nailed it. I have the power to make my own decision any day...any second, but I haven’t done it, because I’ve let my doubts become quicksand at my feet.
Needing to get away before I throw myself at him and hug him, I inch around him. “I’m going to think about what you said...tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. I’m pre-hungover.”
He follows me, reaches out and sifts the ends of my hair through his fingers. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Too bad,” I say, now backing away from him. “This death match is officially over.” Sadly, I didn’t win. But then, neither did he. We’ve reached a draw.
“Ms. Lockwood,” Dr. Vans says.
I flip him off via the camera, continuing down the hall, heading for my cell.
chapter five
“Your mistakes do not define you, only the emotions you feel.”
—Myriad
It’s no big surprise when, over the next three days, Bow and I are locked inside our cell. It’s my fault, and I know it. (1) I didn’t sign with Myriad during my date with Killian and (2) I insulted Vans.
Starvation is clearly my punishment. Bow is collateral damage, and there’s nothing I can do to help her. Every morning, the knowledge guts me anew.
On the fourth day, a knock sounds at our door soon after the other girls are let out for breakfast. As I shamble over, curious, the knock comes again, louder and harder. Through the glass in the center of the door I see Sloan’s pretty face.
She presses a piece of paper to the glass. Enjoy—K. She points down before ducking out of view.
Frowning, I look at the floor and watch, mesmerized, as a thin protein bar slides under the crack. Food! My dry-as-the-desert mouth suddenly waters and my hands tremble as I pick up the prize. So the gift has touched dirty concrete. So what. True hunger isn’t a twist in your stomach accompanied by an embarrassing grumble. True hunger makes you feel as if razors are slashing through your gut. There’s a hollow sensation you can’t ignore, your body growing colder and weaker by the minute. Weaker in a time and place where only the strong survive.