“Stop.” I tried to tear my face from him, but his light grasp turned furious. He held my chin, hard and bruising, forcing me to look into his eyes. The warm Crowne Hall lights reflected in them, dancing like devil’s flames.
“So easy. So predictable. Still lashing out without thought, starting fires that consume her.”
My heart pounded louder than the ocean as a realization curled in my gut. There was only one person who had access to my dress. I just didn’t understand why he would do it.
“You did this?”
“I fucked up your dress. The rest was all you.”
“Why?” I whispered.
He released my chin, and this time I was frozen in place, his presence holding me captive. He trailed his knuckles against my jaw, up and down in a tender fashion that utterly belied the wolfish, vicious way he watched me.
A ghostly breeze blew salt air between us.
He wasn’t going to answer.
“Why are you here?” I tried instead.
His knuckle grazed my chin as a smile curled his lips. “Truth or promise?”
I had a thought as he perverted the sweet game we used to play as teenagers.
The thing between us was darkening, twisting, and I should run. Run before I darken and twist with it. I was the Wicked Bitch of the East Coast, but I wasn’t the words they called me. Not really. I liked to pretend I was as callous as my brother Grayson, as cunning as my sister Gemma.
In reality, I was soft. As they said, there was a reason I’d never fit in. I was a marshmallow. Easy to step on. Easier to squish.
So I answered. “Truth.”
Theo smiled, easy and slow. “I’m going to break your heart, and you’re going to thank me for it.”
Three
THEO
She blinked, blue eyes wide, then laughed. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe,” I answered, dropping her chin, standing up. The grass was made unsteady by the sand beneath, and the ocean roared angry behind us.
I liked her at my feet. Liked having Abigail Crowne where she belonged.
Thanks.
Abigail thanked me. Abigail Crowne didn’t show soft sides, and
if she did, it was only because she was about to put the dagger in your back. Thank-yous. Promises. Confessions. They should all be treated like enemy fire.
In all the truth or promises Abigail Crowne and I had played, she’d only ever made me one promise, and she broke it before the sun could rise.
Now, Abigail watched me, keeping a taut smile on her face, the moonlight liquid pearl on her skin. It was as if she thought I wouldn’t see through it, like I wouldn’t remember what a real Abigail Crowne smile looked like.
I speared my pocket, finding the friendship bracelet I couldn’t throw away. “You have a nickname, you know, around Crowne Hall.”
Her smile dropped.
“Oh.” I smiled, licking my top two teeth. “You already know it.”
“Fuck off.” She stood and took off the jacket I’d given her, throwing it at my face, trying to push past me, but I easily grasped her by the elbow.