Free Brutal Precious (Lovely Vicious #3) by Sara Wolf Page A

to shards, the smile turning cruel, the jovial light in his eyes twisting to malicious offense.
    “You little bitch –”
    His hands reach for me, and I’m ducking, but neither of us get to move any further, because someone steps between us.
    “That’s about enough of that.”
    And I recognize this voice, too.
    Dark jeans, a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Shoulders I know – shoulders I slept against a long time ago. Tawny, gold-brown hair sticking up in the back. It’s an illusion, it has to be.
    “And who the fuck are you?” Nameless sneers.
    “I’m hurt you don’t recognize me, Will. All that prying into our school records, but no prying into my photos? That’s lazy of you. Lax. I’d almost call it a mistake.”
    I see Nameless’ eyes go wide, but he quickly adopts a neutral face, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he stands up, his full height almost level with the newcomer’s.
    “We’re all here, then. Fabulous. The party can finally start. It’s about damn time,” Nameless sneers.
    He looks at the newcomer, and then me, before turning and walking away down the well-lit sidewalk. Like a spell, the paralysis lifts when he’s out of sight, and I gasp for air.
    “Shit, shit, rancid shitmonkeys !” I stand and brush myself off, willing the trembling to stop. It’ll take hours. And it’s not just Nameless that’s causing it.
    Jack Hunter turns to face me.
    It feels like years, but it’s only been months. A few months. He looks so much older – lines around his eyes that didn’t used to be there. His face matured somehow, the sharp angles of pubescence rounded off in a handsome, hawkish way. His eyes are the same frigid, clear blue, brows drawn tight.
    “Isis, I –”
    I pull my fist back and punch him. His head snaps to the side, and the people around us go even quieter. Someone murmurs ‘fight’, but no one moves. Except Jack. He slowly turns his head to me, a red welt blossoming on his Legolas-high cheekbones. I expect rage to ice over his eyes, but it never does.
    “Isis,” he repeats, softer now.
    “Who the fuck do you think you are, running off like that?”
    Jack flinches (flinch? Jack? Never.) but doesn’t break his gaze on mine.
    “You’re shaking,” he says.
    “I know I’m fucking shaking! I’m a lot of things right now, and shaking is the least homicidal of them! You left all of us! You just…disappeared! Your Mom, Wren, shit – everyone. You left everyone behind!”
    Jack’s frown deepens. I catch a glimpse of his hands at his sides – strong and spidery as ever. I want to hold them, I want to hold him, to lunge in and hug him until he can’t breathe or leave again, to tell him it’s okay, to tell him I forgive him, but the fury and Nameless’ words mush together in my head and come out as acid on my lips.
    “You left me behind.”
    “Isis, please, let me –”
    “No!” I interrupt his soft, pleading voice. It’s so unlike him, it scares me. Almost as much as Nameless’ hands shooting out to grab me. Almost. “Did you think a fucking ticket to Europe would make me forgive you? On what fucking planet is a ticket a substitute for a proper goddamn goodbye, and how can I avoid said planet for all conceivable time?”
     
    ***
     
    She is fire and rage, all claws extended, her hair swirling around her in the gentle night-summer wind and her cinnamon eyes ablaze with light from the hall. She shines in the velvet darkness, a little thinner than I remember, and a little sadder, but burning all the same. Always burning. I warm myself on her fury, embracing the searing hot-sweet feel of her wrath and all the vibrant life behind it.
    She is here, she is within reach. She is real and corporeal and angry with me. Maybe she’s never not been angry with me, and that’s why it feels right. We have always been at odds. We have always clashed. After months of feeling wrong, this - staring down my hellion (mine? No, I threw the chance to call her mine away.) – is