My throat tightens.
Rexton doesn’t pull away as the tears build, and he looks me dead in the eye as the traitorous moisture streams silently down my cheeks. I won’t give him the satisfaction of my shaky breath or wobbling lips, and I bite my tongue to prevent either from happening.
I can’t control the tears, but I can control everything else. It’s all I can do.
What feels like lifetimes pass, but it’s probably only a minute or two. It’s excruciating, and Rexton’s blank stare only worsens it. He may not show it, but I know he’s taking sick pleasure in this. Why wouldn’t he? He’s a Wrath.
My anger diminishes, replaced with shame. It’s hard to hold on to my hatred when all I want is to teleport to my bedroom and hide in my closet. I want to die. I want the fates to leave me the fuck alone.
“Are you finished?” Rexton repeats.
I wish he’d stop asking that.
Rexton shifts, pressing me further into the ground. “Shall I teleport us somewhere with an audience?”
No. Heavens, no.
I shake my head, ignoring the mind-numbing pain that explodes from the motion. A blinding headache is already forming.
“I’m finished,” I spit out.
The words are disgusting on my tongue. I know why Rexton wants to hear them. He wants to belittle me, to crush me, and it’s working. I’ve never felt so small. So weak. So useless.
Rexton teleports away, returning to his original spot by Aziel’s desk.
My legs shake as I push myself off the ground, and my arms aren’t moving the way I expect them to. I have a concussion—a bad one.
I turn, making eye contact with Aziel. He’s now standing, his hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t intervene. He let this happen to me. He betrayed me.
I give him a second to come to his senses, to realize what just happened and rip out Rexton’s heart himself. He could do it. Rexton is strong, but he’s no match for my father.
Aziel does nothing. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t defend me.
I’m hisdaughter.
He won’t see me mourn.
I muster up what little strength I have and teleport to Lust. Aziel will expect me to run home, but I don’t want to be found. David’s chateau looms above me, and I hobble inside and upstairs to the bedroom I’ve claimed as my own.
David’s not home, but several shadows spot me. They’ll go to him. He’ll come to me.
He’ll deny Aziel and Rexton entry into Lust. He’ll keep them far the fuck away from me.
Heavy, hot tears drop down my cheeks, and I angrily wipe them away before collapsing face-first onto my bed. I’m not bleeding, at least externally, but I might as well be. I’m on the verge of death, and I bury my face into my pillow with a pained whine.
Everything hurts. My head and back for obvious reasons, but my muscles ache from how hard I was tensed when Rexton had me pinned. I’ve never been so overcome by my anger and not been victorious, and my body is paying the price.
I count my breaths, steadying myself until a familiar incubus appears beside my bed.
“What happened?” Fingers sift through my hair, checking for injuries. “You’re bleeding.”
Am I? I didn’t realize.
David disappears, only to return a minute later with a cold, wet towel. He drops it onto my head, not bothering to be gentle. I wince.
“Don’t let Dad in,” I order.
“Which one?”
