Bugger. Say something! I lower my voice.

“Anna . . .” Right. That’s a start. What next? Tell her when it all changed. “The night of the summit, when you were saved . . .” She is staring up at me, hanging on every word. “It was the only time in my life I’ve thanked God for anything.”

Her eyes flutter closed and I exhale. I know the words have hit home, because only Anna can understand how huge that was for me. When her eyes open again, we drink each other in. She takes my face in her sweet hands and doesn’t look away.

“I love you, Kai.”

Now it’s my turn to close my eyes as I savor those words. It’s the first time anyone’s said it to me and truly meant it.

I want to say it back, but I’m overwhelmed. That damn urge to cry has hit again, and I can’t allow it. I keep my eyes closed a moment longer and swallow away the burn. When I look at Anna again, I take her face in my hands and she grasps my wrists. I throw myself out there.

“Spend the night with me.”

Her eyes widen. “Kai . . . We shouldn’t.” But there’s no backbone in her words. She’s begging me to talk her into it—to say more of the words she’s hungry to hear. I want to give her what she wants, in every way.

“I’m tired of living like I’m not alive.” I take her shoulders. “I’m bloody sick to death of it. I want one night to be alive. With you.” I press my forehead to hers, and now I’m the one begging. “Please, Anna. One last night and we’ll go back to being safe again. I need this. I need you.”

I lift my head and look at her so she’ll know I mean it, but I see worry in her eyes. I don’t blame her for needing reassurance.

“I’ll be good. I won’t let anything happen.”

As we stand there with our eyes locked, the wait is excruciating. I need this so badly. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says no.

Anna’s hands move down my forearms, and her fingers twine tightly together with mine.

“Let’s go,” she says.

She bites her bottom lip nervously as a grin spreads across my face. We both let out exultant laughs, in disbelief that this is happening. I grab her bag and we simultaneously search around us. No whisperers in sight. I never let go of Anna’s hand.

For the first time in my life I think to myself, So, this is what it feels like to live.

For the first time in my life, I am alive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Let Me Kiss You

“Our night is lit by the city moon, and I see myself reflect on you.

I know what I was meant to do.”

—“Aviation High” by Semi Precious Weapons

The whole day has been a disastrous embarrassment. First we show up at my flat, where I’m berated by Michael for missing another practice, then I realize the bloody flat is in ruin from my party on Thursday and Anna wants to clean it herself. Pardon me, but I’m disgraced by the thought of either of us cleaning. Then she finds the lyrics to “Good Thing” in my handwriting. Fantastic. And to add a cherry on top, Anna finds remnants of cocaine on my coffee table and goes all daughter-of-Belial on me. I shouldn’t have found her so sexy in that moment, but when Anna gets possessed with any kind of desire it’s fucking hot.

I’d rubbed her finger where she touched the powder and said, “The way this made you feel? That is what you do to me.” It’s so rare when I can make her understand the madness I feel for her.

If she hadn’t fled the flat to clear her mind at that very moment, I would have had no choice but to do all the sordid things to her I’ve been dreaming of.

Now I’m standing in my room, staring at the neat piles of dirty clothes along my wall, all organized by color. I shake my head. I can’t believe I allowed her to talk me into this. Anna should not have to clean any of this.

I lift my chin as I get a whiff of something divine drifting down the hall. Slowly, I follow the scents to the kitchen doorway, where Anna stands with her hands on her hips, surveying pots and pans that are giving my stove a workout for the first time ever. She’s softly singing to herself, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in. . . .” I will forgive her for the Taylor Swift lyrics, because she looks so bloody adorable standing there cooking—creating something with her hands for my consumption. I don’t think Anna will understand how intimate I find it that she wants to feed me. As far as I’m concerned, it’s an act of foreplay.

It’s been roughly eighteen months since I kissed her. Sinfully too long. When I begin to think of my hands on her, my mouth tasting hers, my body goes completely rigid with intense need, and my sight begins to fog.

Take her.

Take her now.

Right here.

Who needs whisperers when you have a mind like mine that makes completely devious demands of your body? I’m rational enough to know I cannot obey these commands, but I want to so badly it hurts.

Anna reaches out to stir a simmering red sauce and she freezes. Very slowly, she turns and sees me. She sets down the spoon and takes a step back.

Smart girl.

I have to touch her, and she knows it. I fight every urge that’s giving me permission to be rough. With every step I take toward her, she takes a step back, until she’s cornered against the sink and I’m inches away, hovering over her, breathing in the air she exhales. I’m taking great care, because I know she can see the beast in my eyes. I know she’s both excited and frightened. I don’t trust my hands right now, so I grab the sink on either side of her waist. I will not let go.