Violet
Why was he like this, he was usually so quiet and gentle….
"You climbed on top of me, Violet."
My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
This wasn't possible.
This wasn't—
"You caressed me like you owned me." He leaned closer, his green eyes boring into mine, unwavering. "And then you kissed me. Right then and there. You kissed me like it was the most natural thing in the world."
The rod trembled between us.
I wanted to deny it. I wanted to call him a liar again, to hold onto the outrage that had flared so hot just moments ago.
But I couldn't.
Because I was looking into his eyes, and there was no deception there or desperate manipulation.
No… he couldn't be telling the truth.
My mind raced backward, clawing through fragmented memories of that night. The festival. The lights. The strange drink that had tasted sweet and burned warm in my chest. The way everything had gone soft and hazy around the edges.
I remembered wandering through the crowd.
