“Some swans change so much, they never find a flock again. They wander lost and alone. Forever.”
I didn’t realize I was holding onto my swan too tightly until it bit me. I let go with a gasp, and it jumped away with fluttery wings, running down the beach. Blood wept down my wrist, but I was stuck on Theo.
His eyes locked with mine, and another one of his bone-curling grins broke his cheeks. It was chilling juxtaposed against his pink lips and almost angelic features.
He was oleander, as beautiful as he was betraying.
Still with that smile, he asked, “When I’m finished with you, will you be lost forever, Abigail?”
It wasn’t a rhetorical question, and it froze me.
Suddenly his hand shot out so fast I flinched and closed my eyes, expecting to be hit. When nothing happened, I opened one eye and saw what he’d grabbed: a camera. A reporter was on the ground, about to take an upskirt picture of me. Theo had grabbed the camera before the reporter could take a picture, his entire hand encapsulating the lens. The reporter tried to pull it back, but Theo yanked it away and threw it to the ground.
It shattered on impact, glass shards flying. Theo shoved me behind him before the shards could sting.
The reporter yelled something about suing him, and all Theo said was, “Bill me.”
I couldn’t keep the awe out of my eyes. No one ever did things like that for me. One of the reasons I’m in the tabloids so much was because I don’t have any protection from paparazzi. My siblings have entire armies dedicated to getting them from point A to point B. I only have me.
After Theo left, I haven’t had one guard stay longer than a month. I have a reputation for scaring them away. It started as an accident, then it spiraled.
I just wanted one to stay.
Like Theo, it was all so easy for them to leave. They were supposed to guard me, life or death, and one threat and they went running. Some even went to Gemma after me, but I suspect those guards would’ve used any excuse to get off my detail for hers.
Theo narrowed his eyes, and I quickly cleared my throat, rolling my eyes. “Now everyone is going to say I break cameras.”
Theo grabbed my hand.
On instinct, I tried to pull it out of his grip. He was too strong. Veins throbbed along the back of his hand, disappearing into his wrist, beneath his hoodie, and no doubt up his forearm. I pulled on his hand with my other one, trying to break free as he dragged me from the beach toward Main Street.
No use. If he registered my struggling, he didn’t show it.
“What are you doing?” I asked, giving up—for the moment.
In response, he threw his head over his shoulder. A horde of shark reporters had gathered around the fallen one like chum, the flash of their cameras bright and pointed at us. I quickly turned away. I definitely didn’t press myself against Theo’s back.
I didn’t notice his muscles, or how it felt to be protected for once.
His hand wasn’t warm, strong. I didn’t feel safe. I wasn’t thankful.
Theo was bad.
Yet as he dragged me farther from the beach, I looked once more over my shoulder at the broken camera, the reporter who would have made a story of me, made me a fool, the Crowne Slut… again.
If not for Theo.
I shoved an ice cream cone at Theo. He eyed it like I’d given him a ticking bomb.
“Hurry, before it melts,” I said, wiggling it beneath his nose. “It’s your favorite, licorice.” I wrinkled my nose. Gross. “I should’ve known you were a psycho back then. Consider it a thanks for, you know, before…”
My words faded into the air, disappearing into the twinkling lights above us. Thanking Theo Hound was not easy for me to do. Another excruciating second passed, Theo’s bright eyes shadowed beneath his thick brows.
Then he took it.
A weight lifted off my chest when he did so.
“Sharks are clear,” he said, eyes lifting over my shoulder, back to the beach. “Don’t want you to miss your tradition.”