Part 21 (1/2)

I jerk my body upright.

Beck runs down the walkway. Or more correctly, Tom. Ryker throws himself before him, acting as a barricade between us.

”Oh G.o.d.” Maz stands off to the side. He stares at me with wide eyes. ”She can't be here. If Kyra finds out, we are screwed.”

Beck/Tom stiffens and draws a sharp breath. ”You have to go, Lark.”

I tangle my hands in the ends of my hair and tug at it until my scalp aches. ”Why are you doing this to me? I thought you were dead!”

Ryker creeps closer to me, his hands up. ”Shhh...it's going to be okay. Just let me get you home.”

He lunges for me and before I realize what he's doing, he grabs my arms and forces them to my side. Something cold and hard wraps around my wrist.

”You're restraining me?” I cry. ”Why? What have I done? He's the one that came here for me.” Beck keeps his eyes turned down. ”Look at me!”

His middle-aged body trembles.

”I'm here. Don't you still want me?” My throat constricts, making my words sound scratchy and hoa.r.s.e. ”Don't you want to be with me? We could leave. Get away from all of this.”

Maz drapes his arm around Beck and whispers something to him. Spots flash before my eyes and I lean on Ryker for support.

”I'm taking you home.” Ryker's voice is in my ear. His arms are around me. His body is pressed to mine.

But the boy I love stands mere feet away. And he's turning his back on me.

”Come back,” I sob. ”Please, Beck. Please. Come back to me.”

I double forward, breaking out of Ryker's grasp. Concrete sc.r.a.pes my bare knees. When I lift my head, Beck and Maz are gone.

Ryker kneels over me. He pulls me to his chest and cradles my head beneath his chin. His hands stroke my back in even, steady circles.

My chin crumples and sobs wrack my body.

But my heart, it hums.

20.

Beck hates me.

”Miss Greene, please stand still. I won't be able to get an accurate fit if you continue to squirm.” The seamstress looks up at me, exasperated.

I can't stop rocking. My hands are wrapped around my waist.

Who do you think brought him to Maz's? Ryker asked when I accused him of trying to hurt Beck. I'm protecting him. Just like I'm protecting you.

Protecting him from whom? I whispered, knowing the answer.

You.

I'm the threat. Not Eamon. Not the Dark witches. Me. And Beck knows it.

My teeth chatter together when I take a long, deep breath.

For the past four hours, I've been shoved into a series of dresses, each one more complicated than the last with intricate lacing, b.u.t.tons and ball gown skirts. I've been forced to stand on a platform while Mother, Annalise, and Kyra debate the merits of each.

I hate them all. The dresses, I mean. I only mildly hate my family and friend for putting me through this.

The stiff dress I'm currently bundled into constricts my breathing, and in order to turn, I have to hold my torso perfectly upright and move my entire body at once. It's ridiculous.

The seamstress grunts and raises from her position on the floor. Her eyes flick to the door, as if she can't wait to run from the room. Even though she keeps her voice cheerful, her stiff posture gives away her true feelings: she's afraid of us. ”Ms. Greene,” she says, addressing my mother because that's whose opinion matters. Not mine. ”Is it to your liking?”

Kyra claps and immediately begins fawning over me. ”You look amazing! Ryker won't be able to keep his eyes off you!”

”Turn around and look at yourself. You look stunning.” Annalise gently guides me around so I'm staring at a reflection of a girl who looks somewhat like me. Her hair's been pulled up loosely and strands fall randomly out of place. Her skin is ashen and dark circles surround her eyes.

I haven't slept in two days.

I blink my eyes hard, but tears still splatter the front of the strapless emerald green dress. Mother lifts the full skirt and shoves bejeweled shoes on my feet.

”Are we done? I'd like to leave,” I say flatly.

”Stop crying, it's unbecoming.” Mother smacks her lips in disappointment. I think she really wants me to be excited. But how can she be so delusional as to believe I'd be enthusiastic about binding with someone other than Beck? She has to know this is a terrible idea.

”Help Lark out of the dress,” she says to the seamstress. ”And be careful, we're purchasing that one.”

”Yes ma'am.” The seamstress begins undoing the intricate back laces. As the corset loosens, air rushes back into my lungs.

”Annalise, see to the payment. I have to get back to work.” Mother gathers up her belongings without giving me another glance.

The seamstress gently lowers the gown and I step out of it. Kyra hands me my day dress. Not even her generally sunny personality can lift the feeling of misery and gloom hanging over the room.

My sister-in-law pinches her lips together. ”Malin is under a lot of stress. And you are not making things easy for her.”

I fasten the b.u.t.tons of my dress. ”She's the Vice-Head. She's always under stress.”

”Leave us,” Annalise orders and the seamstress scurries from the room.

”There are bigger problems in this world than a teenager acting like a brat because she doesn't want to be bound. It happens every day. Get over it.” Annalise's words drip with anger, but she doesn't raise her voice.

I bend to tug my leather boots over the thick tights I left on during the fitting. There are so many things I want to say right now, but every one of them would land me in more trouble. So I ignore her.

”It's just nerves. Remember how I was before my ceremony?” Kyra wraps a scarf around her neck. ”Everything is going to be fine.”

I throw my hands in the air. ”Everything is going to be fine? I'm bound to Beck. I'm going to kill him. In what strange world is that anything but awful?”

My friend stares at me slacked jaw.