Chasm slams his palm into the wall again, so hard that the tile actually cracks. I open my eyes to look at him, his face just inches from mine again.
“This isn’t your fault, Little Sister. Not at all. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.” He draws back from me, straightening out his blazer and releasing a long, slow breath. I notice that his slacks are slightly tented again. He stares down at that bulge for a minute before looking back up at me. “You’re not allowed to feel more guilty than I do.”
He holds his hand out for me, and I step forward to take it. Our fingers curl together and then he’s dragging me close again, staring down at me with an expression that’s equal parts hopeful and crushed. He likes me—that much was obvious from the sunflowers—but we both knew that we could never, ever act on it. Not especially while Parrish was missing.
Now? All of those barriers have come tumbling down. In their place, invisible forces push us even closer together.
“I hate myself, Chasm,” I admit, and he gives me an almost smile in response. It’s too bitter, though, to actually be one.
“How can you say that? How many people would go this far out of their way to save a guy they’ve only known for three months? Who treated them like shit for most of that? Dakota, it’s your compassion and empathy that’s getting you into trouble. It’s because you’re a good person that you’re suffering.” He yanks me even closer, squeezing both of my hands in his but being careful to avoid my broken fingers.
His expression breaks into something strangely tender, and I find myself looking away. He continues talking, his voice a soothing echo in the small, tiled room.
“But it doesn’t matter because I am not a good person. I make the effort, but the need to be cruel, the want to hurt, to dominate, to bring others into submission … I feel it in me. If I have to direct that energy and that focus to keep you safe, then I’ll unleash it with pride.”
“You don’t even know what you’re saying,” I whisper, but he rubs his thumbs along my palms and makes me shiver anyway.
“Sure I do. I tried to keep my distance from you because I didn’t want to hurt Parrish. Well now, I’m being told that if I don’t act on my desires, he’ll hurt. Worse than that, he’ll die. Let the blame fall on me for this. Make it my fault.” He gives me one, last squeeze before releasing my hands and then unlocking the bathroom door.
I don’t quite understand what he means, but I hope this was enough.
Even as my heart sings with guilt, as it brims with self-hatred, a small, tiny part of me feels warm.
And I hate myself even more for noticing it.
When I step into the hallway for lunch, I see Danyella. She notices me and her eyes go wide, but she can’t quite scramble away from me quickly enough.
“Please don’t run from me,” I call out, trying to grab her arm. She wrests it away from me, storming down the hall so quickly that I have to decide whether to full-on run after her and risk Chasm being unable to find me, or let her go.
I choose the latter, wringing my hands as I turn around to find him striding toward me with angry purpose.
“Little Sister, come on. You want to get chucked off the third-floor courtyard again?” I give him a look, but there’s no apology in his eyes. He’s dead serious right now.
That gods-forsaken phone buzzes in my pocket, and Chas and I exchange a look as I pull it out and turn it on.
If you’d like to see Parrish, you’ll need to do better than that. A lukewarm kiss hardly satisfies those sick little desires you’re harboring. I’ll give you until Sunday to impress me. Please don’t make me alter my plans, princess. I’ve worked hard to achieve these ends.
We study the text together and Chas curses in Korean.
I haven’t quite allowed the meaning of that particular message to sink in. Instead, I’m caught on something else. On several somethings, actually.
There are no security cameras in the bathroom to be hacked and observed. Chasm didn’t have his phone on him. My phone was inside my pocket. At best, if the Slayer was watching me through tech—as I’ve suspected from the beginning—he might’ve heard the barest of rustling. Nothing that Chasm or I said to one another would betray the fact that we were kissing and only kissing—a lukewarm kiss to be exact.
So how would he know that? How could he know that?
My hand slides down the strap of my bag and bumps into the metal heart pin that Tess gave me. I stare down at it, and several things happen at once. It’s like there’s an avalanche in my brain, like I’ve just figured out how to keep that check from becoming a checkmate.
