“I smelled something while I was in your room at Castle Noir,” Cainon says, voice dropped so low it’s like he’s passing me a secret he fears the wind will snatch. “Your last heat. Your desire to befucked.”
Every muscle in my body locks, and a burn floods from my chest to my cheeks, blazing with a shameful wrath that leaves me wide-eyed and voiceless.
He could smell that?
Looking him in the eye is torture, but looking away feels like some sort of defeat, so I force myself to hold his stare.
Force myself to breathe.
“I saw yourwantto be treasured in the tears you cried,” he continues, pushing closer. “Felt it in the way you kissed me.”
It was all a lie.
I want to scream it at him. Bunch the words, then bash them against his chest.
The woman he thinks he has—the woman hewants—she doesn’t exist. Not anymore. Her flame was extinguished the moment she saw the monster she really is.
He steps so close his warm breath falls upon my face, eyes blazing. “I’m going to give you itall,Orlaith.” He leans in, pauses, plants a swift kiss on my temple before he turns and strides back through the room. Out the door.
My lungs empty with a shuddered exhale.
I crumble against the balustrade, sliding down the smooth stone bars until I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor. Head tilted back, a spritz of rain peppers my face, just enough to give the wind something to catch on when the next blow hits, hard and heavy.
Almost a shove.
I spin, knees against my chest as I wrap my hands around the bars and peer out across the bridge to the illuminated city beyond.
Something twists inside my chest.
Being this high up, looking down upon the world used to make me feel untouchable.
Safe.
Now?
All I can think about—obsessabout—is the thrill of the fall.
Even in the dead of night, this place shines with a haunted glow—colorful light spilling from the aurora strung across the sky outside. It filters through the crystal walls and the tiny, high-up window chipped through the side.
I look to the mound at my feet where Vicious is twisted in a ball, tucked under the heavy furs, her breath a summer breeze against my shin ...
Herspot.
Every evening without fail, once we’ve finished feasting on the fish she’s bashed to death, she burrows beneath, ruts the furs into a mound, curls up, and promptly falls asleep, her shallow breathing making me picture her with one eye open.
I usually use the soft beat of it against my skin to lull me under. A warm comfort I’ve grown too fond of. One I look forward to.
Achefor.
But tonight, it’s not working.
I can’t switch off, my heart hammering so fast it feels like something’s thrashing around in there. But it’s nothim.
Zykanth.
Still silent. Still so deep I can’t feel a flutter or a coil of motion. I don’t want much—just a single scale. A frill.The smallestsomethingto resecure our connection and prevent his essence from shriveling up inside me.
The thought of a life without him makes my chest and torso feel crushed by a boulder.
