“Of course not. It isn’t that. ThatUrchin—”
“Urchin? So, he’s divulged the secrets of his associations to you and still you want him? My, you are more devious than your innocent look claims.” He smiled then, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, a fire seemed to build inside him. “It is lucky for you that I enjoy those traits even more.”
The next time he pulled her, she didn’t have a hope of stopping him.
Her chest met his in a rush of air.
“Enough of this, William! I will go to Master Merridon.”
“Master Merridon?” His laugh was dark and lasted so long, goosebumps erupted all over her skin. “By all means, please do. And I will follow you after and tell him of all you knowbut shouldn’t. Do you realize what sort of weapon your beloved Urchins use?” His opposite hand left her arm to caress her temple. “I would hate to see you bleed over it.”
“What have I done to make you believe I wanted you this way? I’m not interested in anything between us. This obsession you have needs to end.”
“Obsession?”
Alora cried out as his grip turned crushing on her wrist. “William,” she whimpered.
“I loathe that word. And I know precisely who’s given it to you to use. Did you know, Miss Pennigrim, that he is dead? Good riddance, if you ask me.”
Alora felt as if the ground crumbled beneath her feet, the earth falling away. “What?”
“They couldn’t save him in time. He lost too much blood. Oh, fucking hell. Look at your face. And here you tried to convince me you harbored no feelings.” He reached to her cheek, his thumb wiping the tears beginning to fall. His gaze softened to something mimicking tenderness. “Forget about him, Alora. Forget all the past ugliness between us. Let’s start anew.”
“It can’t be true.”
“Oh, but it is. You might think I am manipulative and whatever else, but I’ve never lied to you.”
His hand moved along her jaw, tangling almost painfully in her hair. Alora cringed at the feel of it, her entire body recoiling. “Please. Stop.”
“Never,” said William, and bent his head to hers.
Alora pressed her eyes closed as William bellowed, stumbling backward when his hands fell away. He cupped his face, groaning. Blood trickled through his fingers. “My nose! You’ve broken my nose!”
Alora gripped the trim she’d imagined into her hand like a lifeline. “I asked you to stop.”
At her quiet words, William ceased his moaning. When he lowered his hands, it took all her fortitude not to run.
William's eyes were a nasty web of broken capillaries, his nose bruised and crooked, running red over his lips and chin. When he bared his teeth, they were stained with blood. He looked murderous, and she’d no doubt at all that he would follow through on those feelings. He stepped toward her.
“Do not come near me. Not another step.”
In answer, William spat a stream of crimson onto the floor.
“William—”
He lunged.
Tripped.
And Alora wasted no time swinging again, wood meeting his skull with a horrid crack that rattled the room. Master Merridon’s second son slumped to the floor.
Alora’s breaths were coming too fast to be useful. She put a hand to her forehead to fend off the dizziness threatening to consume her. A pool of blood formed beneath William’s head, the floorboards returning as they once were, no longer warped and protruding, but flat and straight. She’d done that—tripped him up when he would have tackled her to the ground, and she’d bludgeoned him. Like some kind of Urchin.
She almost vomited right then, but somehow her body managed to hold out.
She didn’t know what to do. Who to turn to. Who could she trust in this place?
Or maybe that was the wrong question.
