Page 78 of The Villain

Despite the angry red flush staining his pale skin, he got in the fucking car. He buckled his seatbelt with a lot of pissed-off muttering as I settled into the driver’s seat. When we peeled off in the opposite direction from the other cars, Devlin twisted in his seat to watch the gap between us grow.

He slowly turned back around and addressed me with narrowed eyes. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror. I’d cleaned up as best as I could back at the cabin, but a few gashes on my face had started bleeding again.

I pointed to the glovebox. “Hand me some wipes.”

He yanked it open with sharp, angry movements and handed me the wipes. As I swiped at the blood on my face, he crossedhis arms over his chest and stared out the side window. The fury radiated off him in waves. He was about to blow. And I would blow right the fuck back.

I drove for another hour with the radio low, trying to drown out Devlin’s noisy thoughts. By the time the sun’s rays started peeking over the horizon, he was nearly huffing in the passenger seat like an angry dragon. He was so lost in his rage he didn’t even realize where we were. I pulled into a parking lot, and he turned with fire in his eyes, ready for battle.

“Why the fuck would you jump in front of their car? What would possess you to do that, Cian? Jace was there.Right fucking there.What kind of trauma do you think seeing his own brother run over by a damn Range Rover would give him?”

I wouldn’t have been run over. My goal had been to redirect the car, and I’d accomplished that.

I turned off the ignition. “Get out of the car.”

His jaw dropped, like he couldn’t believe I’d just told him what to do. “What? Oh,hellno.”

I opened my door and stepped out without another word, wincing as I stretched my arms over my head and popped my back.

Devlin leaned across the center console. “We’re talking here, assho?—”

I slammed the car door shut. Which, of course, sent him into a spiral. He threw his head back against the headrest and screamed, then surged out of the car. I rounded the hood as he stomped over to where I stood, already spewing bullshit. But then he stopped dead. He furrowed his brows and sniffed the air. Stared up at the sky as a white bird flew overhead with a familiar cry. Then he looked down at his feet, at the concrete parking lot where a thin layer of sand crunched beneath his sneakers.

His breathing stuttered as he realized where we were. He swallowed roughly, and another seagull cried out nearby. Postednear a path of wooden steps that scaled the nearest sand dune was a sign that read, “Beach Access.”

As if an invisible rope pulled him, Devlin took one step forward. Then another. He ascended a few of the wooden steps, me right behind him, and I nearly ran straight into his back when he suddenly stopped at the top. Spread out before us, glittering in the first rays of the rising sun, was the Atlantic Ocean.

I’d been to the beach plenty of times in my life, but knowing Devlin had never seen the ocean had been sitting like a splinter under my skin. I needed him to see it. I needed him to see it withme. So, here we were—at a public beach in Wildwood, New Jersey, in May, before the summer rush.

I placed my hand on his lower back and gently pushed him forward. He stumbled a step before continuing along the path and down another set of wooden stairs. Then he stepped onto the sand.

Devlin stared at the tops of his sneakers as they sank, then bent down to tug off both his shoes and socks. They went flying somewhere onto the dune behind us. Then he was running. He took off in a sprint, bare feet kicking up clumps of sand behind him. When he reached the shoreline, he came to a halt.

After kicking off my own shoes and socks and rolling up my jeans, I joined his side just as the incoming tide touched his bare toes for the first time. He pulled up his pant legs, and I crouched down to roll them up as cold seawater rushed over our feet. When I stood, he stared at me with wet eyes, and a tear tracked down his cheek. He blinked quickly before turning his head to stare out at the rising sun. The early morning light reflecting off the water colored his green eyes a soft teal. And I decided right then that Devlin belonged on the beach at sunrise.

“You risked your life for me,” he said in a choked voice. “And I’m really fucking mad at you.”

I ran a hand over my short hair as the sun warmed my face. “I don’t care.”

I peeled off my pants and shirt, leaving me in just boxer briefs, and waded out into the surf until I could dunk my head under the waves. The saltwater stung the cuts on my face, and I floated silently for a few minutes before walking back to shore. Devlin sat farther up the beach, out of the reach of the water, with his forearms resting on his bent knees. I settled on the sand beside him, mimicking his position as I let the sun dry my skin.

The beach was nearly deserted. A few joggers went by. Someone walked their dog in the distance. This was still too early in the season for a large crowd, but we only had a few hours before tourists began to stake out their spots for the day.

“Stop doing this,” he finally murmured, poking at the sand between his legs. Blood belonging to someone else dotted the collar of his shirt and stained his neck.

“Stop doing what?”

“This isn’t going to work.”

I snorted, and that seemed to bring some of his anger back. He glared at me. “I’m a novelty. You’re not going to keep me. So just stop. Don’t bring me to the fucking beach. Don’t save my life. Don’t fight my nightmares.” His voice shook now, but he forced it steady. “Just be a man and keep your promise.”

I knew this was the source of his anger, but hearing it out loud still stung. I leaned back on my hands. “No.”

His shoulders shook. The panic was taking hold. “Cian?—”

I gripped the nape of his neck with one hand and wrenched his head back as he let out a startled cry. I looked around to make sure no one was going to report me for manhandling him on the beach, but there weren’t any witnesses. The nearest jogger had to be a half mile away, and the woman walking her dog was gone.