Page 224 of Coal Hearts

Oh God...

My delusions pounced again.

New wings sprouted from Henri’s back, and the blood-speckled white carpet beneath my bound and buckled feet poured like a river, swirling around Peter’s knees across the room.

Peter gave me a despairing smile.

His dark honey skin began to glow as if he’d been anointed by the divine.

Strands of light feathered from him, dancing past Henri and soaking into my chest.

I sucked in a breath.

I felt Peter’s regret at drugging me.

Tasted his fear.

Heard his sorrow.

With lamenting birdsong erupting around the room, I forgave him.

Forgave him for drugging me.

For making this impossible for me.

For destroying me.

With a soft growl, Henri swayed toward the table holding such nasty things. In my narcotized eyes, the weapons morphed into sentient beings, vampiric daggers just begging for a bite and hissing clamps just waiting to suffocate.

Running his fingers over the array, Henri selected a particular blade. Holding it up to the glittering chandelier, he ran his thumb over the dull rustiness. His nose wrinkled as he slammed it back down again. “They’re not sharp enough to cut cleanly.”

Victor smirked. “That’s the point. Makes you work a little harder for those sweet drops of ruby.”

Nodding as if he followed Victor’s twisted logic, Henri slowly stepped away from the table. “But what if I don’t want to work harder? What if I want her blood to pour easily, freely, and all over my goddamn hands?”

Victor shrugged. “Then I’d say you’re shit out of luck, as I don’t have anything that sharp.”

“I do.” With a smirk, Henri shoved his hand into his right trouser pocket.

No...

Sanity came roaring back.

Don’t show him.

Don’t reveal what you smuggled in—

“I want to use this, if it’s all the same to you.” With a flourish, Henri held up the fatal little switchblade I’d woken up to him inspecting in his room. A blade he’d hidden the moment I’d noticed and then smothered me with his half-naked body to keep me quiet.

I gasped as memories of what he’d done after that ricocheted through me.

I relived it, not just recalled.

A movie of us played out before me. A doomed, depressing hologram as Henri rocked against me, rubbing my clit with his cock, offering me chocolate in the form of an orgasm. An orgasm that’d torn through me. An orgasm that was the last piece of goodness I’d ever feel.

Victor stiffened in his chair, his fingers tightening around the gun. “You brought a fucking knife into my home, Ward?” Raising the weapon, he aimed the muzzle at Henri. “Care to tell me what that was for?”

Henri didn’t look at me.