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The sight of him is a threat to my senses. I’m so fucking angry at him, and yet all my body wants to do is fuck him.
Thankfully my anger wins over.
“How dare you!” I yell at him, storming forward, pointing at him with unrefined rage. “You’re a fucking monster!”
He reaches out and grabs my wrist, holding me in place, eyes blazing as he looks me over. “You’ve bathed. You’ve been dressed. Who the hell let you out?” His eyes narrow into silver slits. “What did you do to them?”
“Do to them?” I say, trying to rip myself out of his grasp but his grip tightens, the thick leather of his gloves creaking. “I haven’t done anything. Your daughter knew that a queen’s place isn’t thrown into an oubliette.”
“Now you’re calling yourself a queen?” he practically sneers.
“You know I am!” I yell. “I might not be getting anything out of this marriage, but I married a king, a God. I have the crown of crimson, even if you took it away from me, it’s still mine. I am the queen now, the Goddess of Death. And I know exactly how a queen should be treated.”
“Is that so?” he says unkindly, his other hand going to my other wrist, holding me in place. “Is that how you think it works here, in this world you know nothing about, a world you insist you don’t belong in? I married you to uphold a deal and hopefully fulfil a prophecy. Never did I say we would be equals, never did I say I would give you any special treatment.”
“I don’t want special treatment!” I’m practically shaking with anger. “I just want to be treated as a human being, because that’s what I am. I know I am just a Goddess in name, I know I will never be equal to a God like you, but I am not the dead either. I am real and I am alive and I am breathing and I am here!”
His nostrils flare, lip curling slightly. He looks like an animal about to go feral.
“You will learn your place,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Or what?” I threaten. “What will you do to me? Throw me back in the oubliette, wait for me to rot? Bring me out as queen only when it suits your agenda? You know what we’re both waiting for, why not get it over with?”
His brows snap together. “Waiting for what?”
I quickly twist my wrist and wrap my fingers along his leather glove, and before he can react I’m yanking it off, leaving his hand bare and exposed. With speed that surprises me, I grab his forearm on the sleeve, an inch from his bare skin, and bring his hand toward my face.
“What are you doing!?” he cries out, fear distorting his features. He snaps his hand back, trying to keep it far away from me. I toss his glove over my shoulder, out of reach.
“Touch me,” I goad him. “Do it. Touch me and see what happens. Get it fucking over with.”
“I’m not doing that,” he says, breathing heavily now as he clutches his bare hand tight against his chest.
I come toward him, trying to grab him, but he reaches out with his gloved hand placing his fingers around my throat as a way to hold me in place.
“Hanna,” he whispers harshly. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I’m asking for the truth!” I growl, my throat pressing against his gloved palm as I speak. “I am sick and tired of these prophecies, of not knowing which one I’m going to fulfill. I need to know. You do too.”
He looks confused for a moment, then shakes his head, his grip around my throat loosening enough to let me breathe better but still keeping me from reaching his bare hand.
“You have a death wish,” he says, voice lowering as he looks me over in disbelief. “You’re even more reckless than I thought.”
“You’re the one making me this way, trying to keep me under lock and key,” I tell him. “What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to be a doormat, a submissive? If I’m the one you can touch, then I know I’ll be your equal.”
“And if you’re not the one you’ll die,” he snarls with a violent shake of his head.
“What does that matter? Then all that’s left is the fucking deal we made. Is it really that important to you to uphold some pointless bargain to the very end? What do you even want me for?”
His nostrils flare again as he breathes in and out, his chest heaving. He swallows, his muscle ticking along his clenched jaw as he does. Heat rises up between us, invisible flames that seem to bind us.
“You won’t even—” I start.
But, before I can finish the sentence, he does what I almost told him he wouldn’t.
