Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 62679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Sebastian.” Helena’s beside me.
“Go back to your own bed, Helena.”
“No.”
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the day, but I can barely stand and flop down on the bed.
“Go to bed. I’m telling you. Leave me alone,” I say.
She climbs in beside me, wraps her arms around me. “No.”
I manage to roll onto my side to face her. “I’m so fucking tired, you know that?”
“I know.”
I touch her face with just my fingertips. “I’m going to hurt you. You should go back to your room. Away from me.”
We just look at each other for a long time and she reaches up to touch my cheek.
“You won’t hurt me,” she says, burrowing into my chest. “And I can’t sleep without you.”
* * *
My head is throbbing when I wake up. Helena’s gone and the clock on the nightstand tells me it’s afternoon.
It takes me a minute to sit up.
I walk into the bathroom, swallow two ibuprofen, then decide on two more. I switch on the shower and step under the flow. I remember what happened last night, what I said, and I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that I never forget a damn thing. Not one.
When I’m finished, I pull on a pair of jeans and head downstairs bare chested and barefoot. I see Helena before she sees me. She’s got a fire going and is holding one of the branding irons in it.
Fuck.
I’d left them out. Why in hell did I even carry them out of that tomb? I should bury them.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She startles, turns. Her eyes scan me, hovering over my shoulders and stomach before returning to mine.
“How do you feel?” she asks with a smug little grin.
“Fucking rude to answer a question with a question,” I mumble and walk into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee since they’d already cleared breakfast. I drink a big swallow and arrange for bacon and eggs before returning to the patio to wait for the food. I sit in my place at the table.
“Why do you have that?”
“It was here. This one’s yours, right?” she asks, pulling it from the fire, pointing to the crescent. It’s so hot, it’s glowing orange.
“God damn it, Helena,” I say getting to my feet, taking it from her. I walk it out to the pool and stick the brand in the water and listen to it hiss and smoke.
Helena comes up behind me. “That’s what you want to do to me?”
I look at her.
“Will it end things? End the Willow Girl legacy?”
“No. Even if it saves you, this tradition will continue.”
She turns away, shakes her head. “But it still makes your dick hard to think about burning this into my skin.”
I drop the still steaming iron on the ground by the pool. “I was fucked up last night. Said some stupid shit.”
“You remember?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know. I think it was the truth, Sebastian.”
“I have a headache, Helena. Leave me in peace.”
Someone clears their throat and sets my dish down.
Helena sinks into my brother’s empty chair. I didn’t think I’d actually miss him.
I sit in mine and pick up my fork.
“Why did you drink so much?”
“Because yesterday was a shitty day all around.”
“Because of your brother?”
“It’s not his fault. It’s mine. It’s this whole situation.”
“Why did you take me there? Why did you show me those irons?”
“I don’t fucking know. I wouldn’t do that to you, Helena. Even if you wanted it.”
“Even if it means giving me to your brother?”
My jaw tightens.
“If I said yes—”
“No.”
“But if I said—”
“I said fucking no. It’s not up for discussion.”
“Isn’t this the point? Ultimately, doesn’t it come down to this?”
I rub my eyes, my face.
“Fine. Answer me another question and I’ll leave you alone,” she says.
I nod.
“Why did you test me? With the phone call?”
I sigh deeply. “It wasn’t so much testing you, Helena. I could see things between you and my brother and I didn’t like it. That’s all.”
“You knew I’d get angry at him that he didn’t tell me that you knew.”
I nod.
“What about him? Did you want him angry with you too?”
“I think he loves you,” I say rather than answering her question.
She’s surprised, I can see that.
“That’s not possible,” she says.
“Why not? Wouldn’t it be more surprising if he didn’t? I mean, you’re the one who tells me all the time that he’s lonely.”
“Not lonely. Alone.”
“Doesn’t matter. This thing, this whole situation, him like he is, with us all the time, me sharing you with him, he’d have to be a robot not to fall in love with you or at least think himself in love with you.”
“No. You’re wrong. He doesn’t love me. This is a pissing contest. He wants me because you have me. He wants his own Willow Girl.”
“Do I have you?” I ask, my mind suddenly clear as day.