Page 35 of Realm of the Wicked

Her eyes churned with fury and anticipation. I found myself leaning closer, her scent intoxicating.

She pulled back, barely, but didn’t try and remove herself from my grip. Her emotions still burned a hole where I touched her. Would she slap me or kiss me?

For a moment, I let hope slip in.

Just a second. A blip of time.

I imagined her closing the distance, stretching on her toes to press her lips against me. My arms would wrap around her waist, crushing her close to me, and her hands would tangle in my hair. We’d lose ourselves in each other.

Maybe we’d find ourselves, too.

Neither of those things would happen, because when I focused back on Stella’s face once more, she was narrowing her eyes, as if she could see right through my mask.

‘I don’t like not knowing the whole story, Damien,’ she hissed.

‘I can’t tell you everything right now.’ It was a half-truth at best. I feared if I told her the whole truth, she’d run and lock herself in her bedroom and I’d never see her again, and I couldn’t let that happen. ‘You need to trust that I have your best interest in mind.’

Stella snatched her wrist out of my hand. ‘I don’t trust you. You brought me here on a lie, and I’ve been digging up the truth ever since. Every time I think I maybe see a decent person in you, the next minute, you’re someone completely different. You’ll protect me, and then you’re cold. You’ll laugh with me, and then you’re cruel. So no, Damien, I don’t trust you. I don’t even like you.’

Her words hung in the air between us, almost thick enough I could poke holes in the words she didn’t say. ‘You don’t have to like me. You can even hate me, if it makes you feel better. But please know I mean this much: I will burn this universe and the next before I let Clarissa lay a single finger on your soul.’

Stella blinked, and I thought maybe she’d accept my half-assed apology, before she glared again. ‘I do hate you. I hate you for bringing me here. For making me leave Grace. But most of all, I hate you for making me think we might actually be friends. I’m nothing more to you than a pawn in some weird power struggle you have with Clarissa. I don’t want it, Damien. I don’t want any of it.’

She turned and left the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Alone once more. Alone like I’d been for countless lifetimes.

Alone, and it was my own fucking fault, just like it always was.

My instincts wanted me to destroy something. To lay siege into something until it was just as broken as I felt. But if Stella came back into the library for whatever reason and saw me demolishing books, I didn’t think I could handle that.

Instead, I slumped into one of the velvet armchairs, my head in my hands. I’d wanted to push her away, and I’d succeeded. I’d wanted to keep her safe, and so far, I’d done that, too. But if I’d been so successful in protecting Stella, why did I feel like such a failure? I was a mess, torn between giving her space and chasing after her to make sure she didn’t find herself in more trouble.

What was I doing? She didn’t even like me. She hated me. And the worst part was that I couldn’t even blame her. I wanted her to hate me. I wanted her to see me for who I really was.

It was just… I wanted her to feel and see all that and still come back. I looked toward the still closed door with a sigh. This was why hope was so fucking dangerous. No one seemed to notice the sharp edges of hope, jagged enough to leave a scar while they cut you from the inside out.

Watching Stella from afar had been one thing. I hadn’t realized how much the distance protected me from the deep-seated feelings quickly rising to the surface.

I didn’t have a soul, but if I had one, I was certain she’d be tattooed across it. Of course, none of these feelings helped Stella. I was cold, cruel, and had done far too many bad things in this world to be deserving of her presence. Wasn’t that evident simply in the way I’d taken her, tricked her into coming here? What good person would do such a thing?

So once more, I tucked my budding feelings being my carefully constructed barriers, barring their existence with bricks and mortar.

There was one problem with bricks. Like everything else in this life, they were still fallible. They crack. Mortar was penetrable.

Things could still make their way inside.

She could still make her way inside.

13

STELLA

My blood burned as I stormed down the hallway, away from the library. Away from Damien. Away from all of it. The rollercoaster of emotions I’d been on since I’d gotten here didn’t seem to be letting up at all. Fear turned into anger, that became desire, whether I wanted to admit it or not. Desire became denial, and anger once more.

I was spinning, spiraling, and eventually, I was bound to fall down.

Nearly halfway to my room, I realized I was still holding A Streetcar Named Desire in my hands. I glared down at the cheerful cover, the text that always brought me joy no matter what was going on, and huffed out a breath.

Who cared if Damien liked the same books I did? Who cared if his instinct was to protect me?