the things we do in the dark (+18)

4

When August arrives at the hotel restaurant, he finds Iverem sitting in his favourite booth, lost in thought, as she gazes out into the mountains where ski lifts and skiers make their way up and down the Alps.

Aimlessly, she flips through a weathered journal.

"Mind if I join you?" the question sounds perfunctory since he's already seated next to her.

Iverem doesn't pay him any mind. "Sure," she mutters.

Her ambivalence toward him causes August to clench and unclench his fist. So fucking annoying, he thinks, Jonah and his girlfriend are a match made in heaven.

August snatches her journal before he can think twice about it. He ruffles through her diary, skimming the entries about nonsensical issues he deduces every woman deals with.

"Hey," she says, taking the journal from his grip. "What the fuck do you think you're doing."

He shrugs. "Curious."

This comment twists her pouty lips into a frown. When August finally has her attention, he takes his time to study Iverem. The brown of her skin reminds August of wet sand pushed back and forth by the ocean, summers in Mexico by the beach, and sitting on the seashore with his cousins during sunset.

He inhales her scent. The fragrance is light and flowery, like spring flowers in the rain. The smell does something to his blood, causing it to pump faster to his heart and other, more perverse parts of his body.

"Mind your fucking business," she says.

His eye twitches. There she goes, being fucking annoying again.

"We've never really talked before," he says, musing to himself.

"Nope," she says. "You've always been up your mother's ass."

Now she's just being a bitch.

"And you're always up my brother's ass," he retorts. "Why aren't you with the rest of them?"

Iverem takes a sip of her coffee before she answers. "Didn't feel like it."

She isn't a good liar, and her omission of the truth irritates August further. She doesn't take him seriously. He's a nuisance to her, and only one man in this world can make him feel like fucking waste of space: his father.

He runs a finger along the edge of her jaw to the tip of her chin, tilting her head until she meets his gaze. "Trouble in paradise?"

Iverem jerks her chin out of his grasp. "What?"

"I asked you a question." Her eyes widen slightly. Her mouth opens and closes, making her look like some stupid fucking fish.

"Fuck off." There's a fire behind her amber eyes; it turns them into liquid gold. God, she's so fucking hot. "Get the fuck out of my booth."

August doesn't move an inch. Instead, he grips her knee, feeling his way up the harsh texture of her jeans and settling his fingers at the base of her thigh. Her warmth is enigmatic, drawing him closer. Her body begs for him to touch her.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," he says.

He pulls her closer by yanking her braids. Iverem lets out a frustrated gasp, and he takes this opening as an opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth. Iverem remains still. Letting him ravage her mouth, sucking her tongue like candy and kissing her lips with bruising intensity. With each kiss, he attempts to steal her soul, or at least infect her with his depravity. When he realizes he can't do either of those things, he decides that claiming ownership of her will suffice.