Obe Bed
“Welcome to the Hollow,” Jacks said softly.
Evangeline whirled on him. Or she tried to. Whirling wasn’t exactly
possible with the rope of flowers binding their arms. “You can’t just tie
people up and whisk them to wherever you want them.”
“I wouldn’t need to, if you would just remember.” His voice was still
quiet, but it was a dangerous sort of quiet, one that gave his words a bite.
Evangeline told herself not to care. But instead she felt compelled to
argue. “You don’t think I’m trying to remember?”
“Clearly not hard enough,” Jacks said coldly. “Do you even want your
memories back?”
“All I’ve been doing is trying to get them back!”
“If you believe that, then either you’re lying to yourself or you’ve
forgotten how to really try.” His eyes burned as they met hers; it was a fire
like anger. But she could see hurt as well. It came in threads of silver that
moved through the blue of his eyes like cracks. “I’ve seen you try before.
I’ve seen you want something more than anything else in the entire world.
I’ve seen what you’re willing to do. How far you were willing to go. You
haven’t even come close to that now.”
Jacks ground his jaw as he stared at her. He looked angry and
exasperated. He reached up, as if to run his free hand through his hair, but
then he wrapped it around the back of her neck and dropped his forehead to
hers.
His skin was cold, but the contact made her go hot all over. The hand at
her neck slid into her hair and her entire body went boneless. He held her to
him, fingers gentle and firm as they dug into her scalp.
This was so wrong, wanting the man who’d tied her to him and done
countless other unspeakable things. But all she could think was that she
wanted him to do even more.
He was like poisoned fairy fruit—one bite ruined a person for anything
else.
