Chapter 54 Mine. Even In Death
Briar's POV
I didn't move. Julian's words hung in the air between us, sharp and cold. His gold eyes were fixed on me, unblinking, waiting.
"Did you hear me?" Julian's voice was soft, dangerously soft.
Julian's hand shot out and caught my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw. He turned my face toward him, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Is it that you can't hear me, or you just don't want to go?"
His shirt sleeve had ridden up slightly with the movement, and I saw it then. Blood. Dark and wet, soaking through the white fabric in irregular patches. The stains ran down to his wrist, and as I stared, a drop of it slid free and fell. It landed on my collarbone, hot and viscous, and I felt my stomach turn over.
There was so much blood. Too much. The fabric was stiff with it in places, and I could see where it had dried in crusty brown streaks before fresh red had welled up to cover it again. His entire forearm looked like it had been mauled.
I couldn't breathe. The car felt like it was shrinking around me, the walls pressing in. Julian's grip on my face tightened, and I felt something in my chest snap.
I shoved against him hard, my palms hitting his chest, and yanked the door handle with enough force that my shoulder screamed in protest. The door flew open, and I half-fell out onto the pavement, my shoes scraping against concrete as I caught myself.
The night air hit my face, cold and sharp, and I sucked in a breath that burned all the way down. Behind me, I heard the car door slam shut again, but I was already moving toward the pharmacy entrance, my legs unsteady beneath me.
The fluorescent lights inside were too bright after the darkness of the car. I blinked against them, my vision swimming, and leaned against the counter. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, in my temples, behind my eyes.
"Can I help you?" The pharmacist's voice sounded distant, muffled.
I opened my mouth to answer, but the words wouldn't come. My hands were shaking where they gripped the counter edge, and I pressed them flat against the cool surface, trying to steady myself.
The bell above the door chimed, and I heard a familiar voice. "You really should be more careful, Leah."
I turned my head slowly, and there was Ash. He had his arm around a girl with long brown hair, supporting her weight as she limped into the pharmacy. Her right arm was wrapped in white gauze, spots of red seeping through.
"It's just a scrape," Leah said, her voice soft and apologetic. "The cyclist didn't mean to hit me. There's no point making a fuss."
"You're too kind," Ash said, and there was something in his tone that made my chest tighten. "Someone hurts you and you just let them walk away?"
Leah smiled up at him, gentle and sweet. "It was an accident, Ash. Really."
I turned away before they could see me and grabbed the first bottle of antiseptic I could reach from the shelf. My hands were still shaking as I carried it to the register, and I kept my head down while the cashier rang it up. I didn't look at Ash. I didn't look at Leah. I just paid and walked out.
The night air hit me again, colder this time, and I stopped just outside the door. Lucian's car was parked across the street, sleek and black under the streetlight. He was leaning against it, his head bent over his phone, his shoulders relaxed in a way that looked almost lazy.
I stood there for a moment, watching him, and something in my chest pulled tight. He looked up, and his gray-green eyes found mine across the distance. For a second, neither of us moved.
Then I heard footsteps behind me. "Lucian!"
Leah stumbled out of the pharmacy with Ash supporting her, and she broke away from him to cross toward Lucian. I saw it happen in slow motion. Saw her arms come up, saw her wrap them around Lucian's waist, saw the way her face pressed against his chest.
His eyes were still on me, wide and startled, and I saw his mouth open like he was about to say something.
I turned away. My feet carried me back to Julian's car, and I yanked the door open and slid inside. The plastic bag crinkled in my grip as I pulled the door shut, and I stared straight ahead at the partition, my vision blurring at the edges.
I didn't know if Lucian had seen the look on my face. I didn't know if he'd seen anything at all. I just knew that my throat felt tight and my eyes were burning and I couldn't seem to make myself care about any of it the way I should.
"Give me the medicine."
Julian's voice cut through the fog in my head. I looked over at him, and he was holding out his left hand, his right arm still pressed against his side.
"Let me do it," I heard myself say. The words came out flat, empty.
Julian's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't argue. He just rolled up his sleeve with his left hand, the movement slow and careful, and I felt my stomach drop.
His entire forearm was a mess of welts and cuts, layered over old scars that had never healed properly. Some of the wounds were fresh, still bleeding sluggishly. Others had scabbed over only to be torn open again. The skin between them was mottled with bruises, purple and yellow and sickly green.
I pulled on the disposable gloves from the pharmacy bag and opened the antiseptic. My hands moved mechanically, dabbing at the wounds with cotton pads that came away soaked in blood. Julian didn't make a sound. He just watched me, his gold eyes tracking every movement of my hands, every flicker of expression on my face.
I couldn't look at him. I focused on the wounds, on the careful work of cleaning each one, on anything except the weight of his gaze.
"You hesitated before getting in the car," Julian said suddenly. His voice was quiet, conversational almost. "You were looking at Lucian, weren't you?"
My hands stilled. I didn't answer.
"You already know, don't you?" I said finally, my voice coming out tired and rough. "Why are you asking?"
Julian's left hand came up and wrapped around my throat. He pushed my head back against the car window, the glass cold and hard against my skull.
"To you, I'm an obligation you can't escape," he said, and his voice was soft and vicious. "So what is he?"
The blood from his arm mixed with the antiseptic on my gloved fingers, turning pink and sticky. It dripped down into my palm, warm and wet, and I felt something in me break open.
Julian leaned closer, close enough that I could see the flecks of amber in his eyes, the way his pupils had narrowed to slits. "Do you like him?"
I couldn't answer. My throat was closed up, my chest too tight. Tears welled up in my eyes without my permission, spilling over to run down my temples into my hair.
He said, and his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Under my nose, Briar. How dare you?"
His grip on my throat tightened slightly, and I felt panic spike through me. I twisted in his hold, my hands scrabbling for the door handle, but my fingers just slid uselessly over the smooth surface. The locks were still engaged. Every door was sealed.
"Don't," I gasped out. "Don't come any closer."
Julian caught both my wrists in his left hand and pinned them above my head. He shifted his weight, using his knee to trap my legs against the seat, and I was suddenly completely immobilized. His face was inches from mine, his breath warm against my cheek.
"You don't want me close?" His voice was ice. "Did you forget what you are?"
I tried to pull my hands free, but his grip was iron. My legs were pinned. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. The tears were coming faster now, hot and humiliating.
"Do you think I can't touch him?" Julian asked, and there was something unhinged in his tone now. "Do you think he's safe from me?"
The fight went out of me all at once. My body went limp beneath him, my wrists slack in his grip. I stared up at the car ceiling and felt something inside me shatter.
Julian leaned down and caught the collar of my shirt between his teeth. The mother-of-pearl button popped off with a sharp crack, and I felt the fabric tear.
"Then what am I to you?" The words came out broken, barely audible. "Your disobedient toy? Your possession?"
Julian's mouth moved to my ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin there. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and fractured, like something had been scraped raw inside him.
"Mine. Even in death."