A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(37)
Author: Suzanne Young

“I was worried,” I say. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“No? You may want to rethink that.” One hand slides into my hair, pulling my face closer to his.

“Abe, stop.” I try to work my arms between us to push him away, but his expression changes to something sad. Crushingly lonely. I stop fighting, his sadness seeming to spread to me.

Abe moves his palm onto my shoulder, looking like he might cry. Against me his chest rises and falls, his pure desperation filling my heart. Then he leans in and kisses me.

Cold winds through my mouth, and I flinch, turning my face away from his. My lips are numb.

“Don’t—” I start to say, but Abe takes my chin and tries to kiss me again. I push him back as hard as I can, only succeeding in breaking our kiss. I’m still pinned. “Stop,” I whisper fiercely.

Abe puts a hand on either side of me against the wall. “This is getting really old, Elise,” he says. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“Abe. I—”

He puts his palm over my mouth to stop me. The darkness in his eyes is no longer inviting. It’s angry and sinister, and all at once I am very, very afraid of him.

“Look at that,” he says, almost to himself. “I finally got your heart racing.”

Although I’ve seen small glimpses of his anger before, it was never like this. This is cold, and dark, and void. Abe tilts his head as if thinking, lowering his palm from my mouth. My body trembles and I consider screaming for help.

Abe smiles. “No one will hear you.”

My eyes widen, and I try to push him, try to get away, but he grabs me hard and slams me back into the wall. The force of it stuns me and I cry out in pain.

Abe leans forward, resting his cheek on mine like we’re in an intimate hug. “I tried to play nice with you, Elise,” he whispers. “But . . .” He pulls back just enough to peer down at me. “Since you won’t remember this anyway.”

He crushes his mouth against mine, his hand knotting painfully in my hair. I struggle, but he’s unmovable—strong. Inhumanly strong. I’m trying to scream for help, but I can’t get free of his mouth. He pushes up my shirt, his hands rough and careless on my skin. My body begins to shiver, splinters of ice tearing me apart from the inside. I bite down on his lip and he jumps away, cursing under his breath.

Abe touches the back of his hand to his mouth, checking the blood there. He shakes his head at me, smiling like he’s impressed I fought back.

Completely weak, I slide down the wall as tears stream over my cheeks. My mouth aches, my body. Why did he do that? What’s wrong with him?

“Didn’t know you liked it so rough, Elise.” He wipes his mouth again, and soon the blood is gone and his lip is normal, undamaged. “The things I can do with you.”

My body convulses with the cold, and when I look down, my skin is grayer. I begin to whimper, wanting Abe to go away.

He stands over me and exhales, like he’s exhausted. “Just give in,” he says. “If you want, I’ll be sweet, treat you like a queen. Will that make it easier, querida?” He reaches toward me and I flinch, my teeth chattering. He gently runs his finger over my temple. “I don’t know why you’re different,” he says. “And I don’t care. You’re the closest I can ever get to the light, the brightest thing I’ve ever seen. Just come with me and I’ll never hurt you again. I promise.”

His whispers are tender, the only sound in my ears. They wrap around me, covering me in fog. In shadows. My eyelids flutter, and the entire scene slips out of focus.

They’ve forgotten me. Mercy, Sarah—everyone. My destiny is unavoidable. My life is over. It’s horrifying, and yet . . . I’ve lost the will to fight. I just want it all to be over. Because now I know that I never existed. That there is no such thing as me.

I open my eyes, completely disoriented. The memory still holds me with its sorrow, but I push it away when I realize I’m around the back of Santo’s, sitting on the gravel against the outside wall.

How did I get here? The last thing I remember was searching for Abe. And then I woke up, filled with a memory that leaves me feeling helpless.

I hear my name and turn to see Abe rushing over, his eyebrows pulled together in worry as he kneels next to me. “Elise,” he says, checking the back of my head for blood. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I touch my mouth. It’s sore, like I’ve been punched in the face. My shirt is untucked, and my head feels like I smacked it on something.

“I must have fainted,” I say, not sure I believe it.

“We should get you some water.” Abe looks like he’s so worried he can barely stand it. He takes my hand and helps me up. “You have to be more careful, Elise,” he says. “I can’t always be here to save you.”

“What can I say?” I ask, still shaking. “You’re my savior.”

He pulls me into a gentle hug as he kisses the top of my head. “Close enough.”

When we get inside, I know that I have to leave and find Marceline. The memories are getting more intense, the lines of reality blurring completely. I tell Santo that I’m sick—possibly with the flu—and that I have to take off. He reluctantly agrees. Abe makes me promise to call him when I get home. I don’t mention that I’m not going there, or that I don’t even have a car. But I’m glad that Abe and I are still friends. I think he might be the only one I’ve got.

CHAPTER 20

I walk to Marceline’s, which luckily isn’t too far. I’m halfway up her walkway when I hear a motorcycle pull up at the curb behind me. My stomach drops, and I have to force myself to turn around. There’s no reason not to be civil. Just because Harlin hurt my feelings doesn’t give me the right to treat him poorly. Look at Abe. I hurt him, and he’s still a gentleman.

Harlin notices me, pausing a long moment before climbing off his bike. He seems miserable as he slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans and approaches me, head down.

“Hi, Harlin,” I say evenly.

He lifts his gaze to mine before shifting it away. “Elise, I—”

I turn, walking toward the house before he can offer another excuse. Or worse, try to explain in more detail. Being this close to him and not being able to touch him is torture, a reminder of how much I like him. A reminder that he rejected me. I don’t know why he’s even here, especially when he knew I’d probably come back.