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Kaspias pulls away from her, pausing to look into her eyes. Rage weasels its way back into my nervous system, prickling my skin and setting my teeth on edge. I jump to my feet, knocking my tray over in the process, sending it clattering to the floor along with the rest of my food. The bang is loud enough to draw the attention of a few nearby tables, along with them.
The demon and Kaspias.
They stop looking at each other to tilt their heads toward me.
I move without thinking, blazing my way through the scattered inmates blocking my path to Kane’s brother. Bumping my shoulder past the last obstacle, I stand at eye level with Kaspias, glowering into his bark-colored eyes lined with black paint.
“Dessin,” he breathes. And his brows twitch upward like he’s surprised to see me. Or maybe it’s deeper, more convoluted than that. He’s…gazing at me like a puppy dog.
And the demon, well, she looks like she’s two seconds away from losing it.
I part my lips to explain why I’ve approached them, but the moment I stare into those cold, green eyes, I’m the one that loses it.
My fist flies into Kaspias’s cheekbone. A stabbing pain pings up my knuckles and into my wrist. Kaspias’s face jolts off to the side at the sudden blow. The demon gasps but does nothing to comfort her new friend or to stop me.
My vision turns spotty at the act of defiance, and I start to stumble from the spinning room. The woman who ruined my life grips my elbow to help me stand upright; her touch sends fire racing over my skin. An electrical sensation buzzing across my nerves.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I growl, ripping my arm from her grasp.
The blonde demon holds her hand to her chest as if I sliced her with a blade. My laugh comes out harsh and cruel, the same way she laughed when Arthur died in front of me.
“What? Don’t act like you suddenly have feelings that I’ve hurt.”
The evil woman stares at me. A look that I can feel weighing down my shoulders, preventing me from taking even breaths.
“You could never hurt me, Dess. Because I know this isn’t you.”
“You’re a fool if you think that to be true. I can, and I will hurt you.”
The demon places her hands on the center of her chest. “You could cut my heart out, and I’d still love you.”
I step away. My throat involuntarily bobs. Why can’t she just stick with her wicked fiend routine? The soulless hellhound that giggled every time we would cry as children. The devil that made so many of us split.
“Stop,” I grit out.
“I’d love you if you snapped my neck right here in front of everyone.” She takes another step.
“I’ll do it,” I warn.
“I’d wait for you in heaven.”
“Stop.”
Her steps close the distance until my panting breaths graze the top of her head. And as I let myself, only for a heartbeat, scan the details of her face, an intrusive thought bursts like an exploding star in my mind. A thought that makes me hate myself, utterly and eternally.
She’s beautiful.
“You’re my soulmate no matter what they do to us,” she whispers.
My heart caves in on itself at that familiar word. Soulmate.
“STOP!” I roar in her face.
The entire commissary goes mute, stopping their conversations abruptly.
And for no reason at all, this has made my entire body shake with emotion. My muscles vibrate against my bones, my lungs pulse in and out as if the oxygen in the air refuses to go down my airways. I’m suffocating. My heart gallops and stumbles, churning and tearing. I lose my bearings as she holds her hands in the air, like she wants to touch me but is scared to anger me further.
The logic of it all sends a blast of more revulsion, more loathing down my spine.
