"I would never.” I held up the vial. “This is fun, you know, slowly poisoning myself before I meet a family that may just end me for sport. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
"You just need to get in. Once you’re in, I have power, control, intel?—“
"And what intel do you really want, Tempest? What’s so important for you to find?” I’d try until the day of the meeting, until the last hour.
"I wouldn’t tell you even if you set me on fire, Louis.”
“And if I kissed it out of you, would you tell me then?”
"We should go home so you can shit your pants in privacy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Romantic you are not.”
"Crapping you will be.” She stomped ahead of me.
I had no choice but to follow.
And I hated that I had an amused smile the entire way. It wasn’t until we passed Raven that it faltered. Her hand holding Ace’s, her hand touching her own stomach, my heart skipped a bit.
I thought I’d loved her.
I'd died for her.
And now I was with her sister getting slowly poisoned, yeah, some guys just really get all the luck.
My phone pinged once I was outside. Cassian.
"You’ll need some Pepto for this one, cheers, three days, mate, let the games begin!”
We didn’t make it home though and the more I thought about the word the more uncomfortable I felt that when I thought of it—it was her face I saw.
14
LOUIS
Man can do what he wills, but he cannot will what he wills.— Arthur Schopenhauer
The door barely closed before I was bent over the toilet.
This time there was zero pretending, no happy thoughts of sex and nakedness, only gut-wrenching stomach pain. The was full on, what-the-hell-have-I-gotten-into stomach-clenching vomiting.
My body convulsed, sharp and unforgiving, like it finally decided to collect its debt. Acid burns my throat like the fires of hell trying to claw through any part of my body they can. I braced my hands against the porcelain like it might float away on a sea of puke. Fuck, I needed an anchor right now.
I heard her before I felt her.
Great. She wasn’t the type to stay and hold my hair back, not that I wanted her to witness all of this. I was ready to tell her to leave when her fingers were there—steady, firm—pulling my hair back without hesitation.
She could tie it.
She could shove my face further into the toilet—expected.
She could do a lot of things.
Instead, she whispered, just barely, “Breathe.”
It was so quiet I followed the encouragement immediately. Had she yelled it, demanded it of me, commanded, I may have jerked away from her or given her a smart retort. Instead, I listened.
Rare for me.