Page 49 of Realm of the Wicked

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. ‘You’ll protect me. You’ll care for me. You’ll do things for me no one would ever do in a lifetime of asking. But you won’t kiss me.’

‘If I kiss you…’ His voice faded until his eyes darkened and he gripped my wrist. ‘If I kiss you, I’ll never be able to go back.’

I waited, ignoring the way my heart demanded to escape and the way my brain pleaded with me to run away. I waited because something told me Damien was just as tormented as I was.

‘If I kiss you, Stella, I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to go back. That’s all there will ever be for me. You are my temptation. My personal Hell. But I won’t let us both burn.’ His eyes blazed with passion and fury and something darker. Toxic. ‘I won’t do that to you.’

Words abandoned me, leaving me in silence. I wasn’t surprised as he turned to leave the room, leaving me with the mirror in my hands and my heart in my stomach. He met my gaze in the mirror, blank once more, a barrier from the emotions threatening to spill out of both of us.

‘You can use the mirror whenever you want. Be careful, though. It’s easy to lose yourself in a dream.’

And with the whisper of his warning tattooing itself into my mind, next to the place where the memory of his hands on my body lay, he left me wondering if I knew anything at all.

17

STELLA

The clouds above me were so thick and angry, it felt like I could reach out and touch them. I sat back on my heels, staring up at the sky, as if within its churning mass, I could see what I was missing.

In theory, Damien gave me everything I wanted. He provided me the looking glass to see my sister. I had a warm bed, comfortable clothes. Delicious food, although that was more Agatha’s doing. And yet it didn’t feel like enough. In the same breath, I wasn’t sure Damien would ever allow himself more.

I glared down at the strawberries, looking for anything other than myself to blame for my emotions running awry.

‘I have heard that gardening is safest when there’s a threat of a thunderstorm.’

Shading my eyes, I realized the focus of my spiral himself had appeared in the garden. His hands were tucked inside dark pants, and as always, his face gave nothing away.

I brushed my hands on my jeans. ‘The strawberries needed weeding. I didn’t realize there was a wrong time to weed.’

As if to call me out on my lie, thunder boomed in the distance. The humid air had done me no favors, and my clothes now stuck to my skin.

Damien sighed. ‘We have company joining us for dinner tonight.’

My strawberries were immediately forgotten. I could just imagine the look of shock and fear that was scrawled across my face. ‘Is it…?’

‘Yes,’ Damien confirmed, frowning. ‘Clarissa made good on her promise and announced they’d be joining us for dinner tonight.’

‘Don’t they, I don’t know, need to give you more warning or something?’ I need more time. I’m not ready.

‘Unfortunately not. The Fringe is as much Clarissa’s as it is mine. I’m just lucky she loathes being outside of Hell. Something about the temperate climate.’ Damien waved his fingers in the air, the promise of rain imminent. Across the field, lightning flashed.

‘What about…’ I gestured frantically to myself. ‘You know.’

‘Not removing your soul from your body and putting it in stasis in Hell?’ Damien supplied.

I cringed. ‘Yes. All of that.’

‘I have a plan. Don’t worry.’

I narrowed my eyes. Damien wouldn’t tell me whether or not he actually had a plan, even if I asked. ‘When are they coming?’

Damien glanced down at his watch. ‘Soon. I think Agatha found you a dress already.’

A thousand unspoken words hung in the air between us. I hesitated, not knowing if I should speak them aloud. The lightest drizzle started to fall, clouding the edges of my vision.

Before I could say anything, Damien looked down at my hands. ‘You should head up now. You’re basically soil at this point. I can have Agatha draw you a bath.’

I wasn’t sure if being ignored was better or worse than being outright rejected. Both seemed to suck. I got to my feet, doing my best to brush the dirt from my hands. ‘You’re probably right.’