Miscreants: Next Generation by Natalie Bennett (essential reading .txt) 📗

he applied pressure on the dimples in my lower back and pulled me flush against him. I swallowed, breathing him in as I did.

He always smelled so good. Tonight, the comforting aroma of smoke and flames intermingled with his mint scented body wash.

I brought my palms up to his chest to keep some semblance of space between us, feeling the outline of his physique through the shirt he had on.

Samael wasn’t one of those ridiculously muscular beef-heads that walked around with their arms in the shape of a constipated U. He was muscled and proportionately toned in a way that made you want to run your hands over every inch of him.

Add his ridiculously good looks on top of that, and you had the living, breathing definition of a thirst trap.

“Maybe it’s time she learns the truth. We should let her see how hard I can make you come in sixty seconds.”

I scoffed and leaned back slightly, keeping my mouth away from his. “Do you have to be such a vulgar pig?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t get off on it. I vividly remember a time I fucked you with nothing but my words.”

I remembered that, too. This wasn’t okay, though. That coming from the woman insanely possessive over him. Dawn didn’t deserve to be hurt because of our inability to get our shit together.

“She deserves better than what you’re giving her,” I hissed, hearing soft footfalls approaching.

“You’re right. She should get all the parts of me you lost the privilege of having.”

Ouch. I bit back the reply that immediately sprang forward, determined to hide any indication that those words had found a mark.

“Was that supposed to bother me? I chose to drop my baggage, remember? I commend her for taking on the burden of such irreparable damage.”

I regretted the jab as soon as I said it. I’d gone too far. A voice in my head screamed at me to take it back, but I couldn’t.

It was too late, and, despite the words being untrue, their venom would burn all the same. He took a step away, letting me go with the smallest shove, his jaw clenching. That small display of emotion told me I’d just hurt him far more than he’d ever let on. He was always so controlled and cynical, keeping his troubles and secrets to himself.

“You didn’t choose shit. If I wanted you, I’d have you.” He shook his head. “Your brother told me you’d never amount to anything more than a warm body.”

“I—"

“He said I should fuck you once or twice and then drop your ass for good. And to think I ruined his life over him telling the truth…”

I knew precisely which brother he was referring to, and holy fuck. That was a low blow. It felt like he’d just sucker punched me in the gut. My mask momentarily slipped; my throat bobbed as I swallowed.

Don’t you dare cry, the voice in my head seethed. I turned away just as Dawn caught up to where we were standing.

“Hey,” she chirped. “Is everything okay?”

I could hear the genuine concern in her voice as she picked up on the obvious strain.

I didn’t bother looking back or listening for his response. I couldn’t take seeing them together right now, and I didn’t want to dig the hole I was in any deeper.

You weren’t supposed to allow words to hold power over you. You weren’t supposed to let them hurt.

And they didn’t.

They obliterated.

They burrowed into my soul and engraved themselves on the bleeding pieces of my heart. It was impossible to argue with someone who seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. Every time pointless hate spewed from our mouths, the decision I’d come to weighed on me that much more.

If we kept this up, there’d be nothing left of us when the shrapnel from our bullets finally turned to dust.

 

CHAPTER SIX

He said wildflowers made him think of me. Every morning there was a fresh bundle waiting when I woke.

Today wasn’t any exception.

A triangle of early morning light shined through my Tiffany Blue curtains, and there on the dresser, just in front of the window, sat a white bouquet, handmade and carefully wrapped together with a thin black ribbon—black being my favorite color.

Whoever said it wasn’t a color could kiss my ass. Black was the outcast on the spectrum, often used to represent darkness. It reminded me of him. Maybe that’s why I loved it so much. Samael had never forgot that either.

I don’t know where he went to get the flowers, or why, but he never skipped a day and always made sure I was asleep before slipping in here to deliver them. I’d tried to catch him in the act, failing time and time again.

I anxiously anticipated when he would stop. I didn’t deserve this gesture from him in the first place, but no matter how badly we cut each other down, regardless of how we made the other hurt, he continually reminded me he wasn’t going anywhere. He hadn’t forgotten about me.

In that regard, he kept the promise we’d made to one another.

Tossing the comforter off by kicking at it, I sat up and swept a hand through my hair to move it out of my face, blinking to clear the sleep from my eyes. Aside from the faint squeaking sound coming from the main room, the cabin was still and silent. If Samael had slept here last night, he was long gone by now.

The clock on the far wall had stopped ticking at a quarter past midnight going on three days ago. I really needed to do something about that, but then what would be the point? It wouldn’t matter soon anyway.

If I had to guess, it was breakfast time, which meant I