Nothing has harmed me. Nobody has forced me to leave my comfort zone.
Yes, Rhordyn hurt me first, but I retaliated, and not just for the greater good. A smidgeon of my actions fed from that vindictive well inside—a bubbling desire to hurt Rhordyn just as much as he hurt me.
This ... thisthingbetween us is turning me into a monster.
I walk to the stairwell and bundle an armful of my shredded gown, closing the door on the rest of the carnage. Kneeling, I open the hatch on The Safe to reveal the hollow, wooden tomb.
You do look ravishing in that color ...
My face twists.
I shove the dress inside the compartment, tuck the vandalized goblet amongst the shredded material, and slam the door shut.
Turning, I slide down the unforgiving grain, arms wrapped around my knees as if they could hold me together.
Part of me hopes Rhordyn will dash up Stony Stem straight away. That he’ll somehow sense I’ve dished up an ample, undiluted offering and come running.
The rest of me expects to be punished by his tardiness.
Minutes tick by and my churning well of emotions have me counting every second.
Is he even coming?
The thought of that tiny pool ofmesitting in a goblet unwanted, unused ... It hurts. The thought of never again giving him a taste of myselfhurts.
Despite everything, part of me enjoys the thought that my blood ends up inside him. That droplet by droplet, I find a way into his system.
Invadehim.
But that’s not proper thinking for a coupled lady; even I know that. I’ve read enough books to have a certain grasp on the veil of etiquette a female dons the moment she accepts a cupla.
I hear the faint sound of footfalls ascending Stony Stem, and my heart leaps with relief, then plunges as I realize this will be one of the final times I hunger over that sound.
Thump ... thump ... thump …
Each step seems to land slower than the last, his footfalls far softer than they usually are.
Where has all his noise gone?
With a slight squeak of its unoiled hinges, the tiny door opens, and I draw a ragged breath, picturing my dress gushing out like the innards of a slaughtered beast to reveal my sharp and bloody offering.
Is he looking at the goblet, seeing all the pain I poured into its hollow? The edges honed as a silent plea for him to show me hisownhurt?
With another squeak, the wooden door presses shut, then silence. Nothing but an encroaching stillness that drags on for so long it feels like the room begins to sway.
Knock on my door. Bust in here. Scream at me. Tell me how disappointed you are.
Tell me you’ll never forgive me for as long as you live ...
But he doesn’t do any of that. Which means I’m forced to swallow my own venom rather than lash it at him, too.
He descends Stony Stem, and I release a sawtooth breath, still dressed in nothing but my too-tight skin and the shackle of my actions.
That, and a thick lacquer of disappointment.
I threw down, and he didn’t even fight.
That fire in my belly sputters out like a spent wick when I hear his footsteps fade to nothing.
