mAra

dyer

take

over

“I knew Noah worshipped Charlie Parker and that his toothbrush was green. That he wouldn't bother to button his shirts correctly but always made his bed. That when he slept he curled into himself and that his eyes were the color of the clouds before it rained, and I knew he had no problem eating meat but would stubly leave the room if animals started to kill one another on the Discovery Channel. I knew one hundered little things about Noah Shaw but when he kissed me I couldn't remember my own name.”

“Mara, I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And when you're ready for me to show you," he said, brushing my hair to the side, "I'm going to kiss you." His thumb grazed my ear and his hand curved around my neck. He leaned me backward and my eyes fluttered closed. I breathed in the scent of him as he leaned in and kissed the hollow under my ear. My pulse raced under his lips.

"And I won't settle for anything less.”

“Wait," I said as Noah slipped a book from a shelf and headed toward the door. "Where are you going?"

"To read?"
But I don't want you to.
"But I need to go home," I said, my eyes meeting his. "My parents are going to kill me."
"Taken care of. You're at Sophie's house."
I loved Sophie.
"So I'm...staying here?"
"Daniel's covering for you."
I loved Daniel.
"Where's Katie?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Eliza's house."
I loved Eliza.
"And your parents?" I asked.
"Some charity thing."
I loved charity.
"So why are you going to read when I'm right here?”

“Fix me," I commanded him. "This thing, what I've done - there's something wrong with me, Noah. Fix it."

Noah's expression broke my heart as he brushed my hair from my face, and skimmed the line of my neck. "I can't"

"Why not?" I asked, my voice threatening to crack.

"Because," he said, "You're not broken.”

“Rubbish. The Taj Mahal is only a hundred eighty-six square feet. This house has twenty-five thousand."

I stared at him blankly.
"I was kidding," he said.
I stared at him blankly.
"All right, I wasn't kidding. Let's go, shall we.?"
"After you, my liege.”

“Rubbish. The Taj Mahal is only a hundred eighty-six square feet. This house has twenty-five thousand."

I stared at him blankly.
"I was kidding," he said.
I stared at him blankly.
"All right, I wasn't kidding. Let's go, shall we.?"
"After you, my liege.”

“You will love him to ruins.”

“Je t'aime. Aujourd'hui. Ce soir. Demain. Pour toujours. Si je vivais mille ans, je t'appartiendrais pour tous. Si je vivais mille vies, je te ferais mienne dans chacune d'elles.

I love you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”

“The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was covered in blood.

The second thing I noticed was that this didn’t bother me the way it should have.

I didn’t feel the urge to scream or speak, to beg for help, or even to wonder where I was. Those instincts were dead, and I was calm as my wet fingers slid up the tiled wall, groping for a light switch. I found one without even having to stand. Four lights slammed on above me, one after the other, illuminating the dead body on the floor just a few feet away.

My mind processed the facts first. Male. Heavy. He was lying face down in a wide, red puddle that spread out from beneath him. The tips of his curly black hair were wet with it. There was something in his hand.

The fluorescent lights in the white room flickered and buzzed and hummed. I moved to get a better view of the body. His eyes were closed. He could have been asleep, really, if it weren’t for the blood. There was so much of it. And by one of his hands it was smeared into a weird pattern.

No. Not a pattern. Words.

PLAY ME.

My gaze flicked to his hand. His fist was curled around a small tape recorder. I moved his fingers—still warm—and pressed play. A male voice started to speak.

"Do I have your attention?" the voice said.

I knew that voice. But I couldn’t believe I was hearing it.