Ronan
He calls me a liar and I want to bare my throat and bite his all at once.
I should step away. Button my shirt. Pick up the maps and put the world back into lines. Instead I crowd him into the table again and run a hand down the curve of his back. Slow, possessive, not gentle.
“You acted like an imbecile when you went to the quarry alone,” I say, and the sentence is a growl. It’s also a confession. I cannot let go of the image of him vanishing into a hole in the earth with Loran behind him.
“I came back,” he shoots over his shoulder.
“And if you hadn’t?”
“Then that would’ve proved me right.”
It’s insane. It’s Eli. The part of me that rules with teeth wants to cage him. The part of me that doesn’t have a name wants to lay down and let him crawl under my ribs and live there.
Nei
