Prince of Chaos by Wilde Amelia

Author:Wilde, Amelia
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2020-02-29T16:00:00+00:00

7

Persephone

The world must agree with my plan, because the instant we turn back toward my mother’s fields the wind dies down. Or maybe I just can’t feel it because we’re moving. Either way, the tense knot in the middle of my lungs releases a little. I can breathe again.

The sound of our footsteps crunching on snow is the only sound on the path back to the fields. We should probably go somewhere else, but there is nowhere else—the gate is closed and locked, and walking alongside the train tracks seems too risky. Too tempting. If the train were go to by, I might get on it with him. And I want to. But I feel almost lightheaded from having his coat around my shoulders. I feel like I’m perched on the edge of a deep pool, and one false move will send me plummeting into the dark center of it.

I’m not ready for that.

Or maybe I am ready, and that’s what scares me the most.

How did you get here? I want to ask. Is my mother’s fence that weak? But instead: “Won’t you be tired in the morning?”

Decker cocks his head to the side. “How intense is this walk going to be?”

“Not—not that intense. Unless you need it to be.” What do I even mean by that? I have no idea. I have...some idea. But I’m not sure there’s a script for how to make small talk with a man you’re meeting illicitly in the middle of the night. The back of my neck prickles at the reminder that there could be consequences for this—and bigger consequences than a slightly awkward chat with Decker. If my mother finds out—

She won’t. She’s sleeping. Deeply.

“Let’s walk slower.” Decker catches me by the elbow and pulls me in closer to him. “Unless you’re leading me toward a trap.”

“A trap?” I squeak. “I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t even know how to set a trap. For a man?”

“I’m just kidding.” He nudges me, and every touch leaves a trail of heat down my skin. “I know you’re not here to trap me. We’re just here to talk, remember?” I do. I’m not done talking to you. “So tell me more about you. I already know some things.”

My breath goes out of me again. This can’t keep happening, otherwise I’m going to get truly lightheaded and tip over into the snow, which would be the opposite of cool. “That’s not true. Nobody knows anything about me.”

“I know you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I know you only wear white. At least, the clothes I can see are always white.”

“You’ve only seen me twice. Maybe I wear other colors when you’re not here.” I don’t. I don’t have clothes that are other colors, except for a couple of forest-green dresses for photo shoots. That hasn’t happened in a long time. I bet they don’t even fit anymore. I can’t bring myself to say something witty about the clothes he can’t see. It feels like holding my hand above a flame.

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