Chapter 33 · Hands

"Say it," Callum said, forehead still pressed to mine. "Say you still burn for me."

"Get off." My voice cracked right down the middle. It didn't sound like a no. We both heard that.

His hand was still flat against the back of my neck, right over the mark, and the burn hadn't stopped, it had climbed, sliding down my spine like someone dragged a lit match along it. I grabbed his wrist to pull it off me and my fingers wouldn't close right. That's the part I hated. My own hand not listening.

"You don't get to touch this," I said. "You rejected it. You rejected me. In front of the whole pack, remember? Or did you forget that part when you dragged me back into your glass?"

"I remember every word I said." His thumb moved, just barely, right at the edge of the mark, and my knees actually went. Actually went. "I remember what it cost me to say it too."

"Don't." I got a hand flat on his chest to shove him back and it didn't work, my arm just stayed there, stupid, not pushing, not pulling. "Don't make this sound like it hurt you.