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The door parts. Hellebore leans against the frame, the loose cotton pants he no doubt just threw on hanging low on his hips. His bright blue eyes are heavy-lidded, sleepy and feverish, his honey-gold hair raked to the side, as if he’s been up all night doing deplorable things. The colorful tats on his arms are nothing compared to the giant spiderweb tat covering his chest.
A tremor courses through me as I spy the black widow in the center. The arachnid is hunched over a blue-and-yellow butterfly—
I look away from the macabre art, made all the more disturbing by the way the poor butterfly’s wings moved.
Hellebore drags his too-bright gaze over me. “You can murder that poor flower and all my windows, but no means no. I will not sleep with you.”
“Where is she?” I pant, raising the planter like a weapon.
“Oh, you mean that young fire-cracker with the freckles and the red hair?”
My muscles twitch with rage. “If you hurt her in any way—”
“You’ll what? Break another window? Throw something at my head? Yell at me?”
Mother trucker. He doesn’t see the amaryllis streaking toward his smug face until it’s almost too late. Unfortunately, he ducks just in time and it crashes into something out of sight and hopefully very expensive.
The humor bleeds from his face. “Behave that way one more time, I’ll close this door and you will never see your sister again. Now, are you going to be a good little pet?”
My jaw locks, but I manage to grit out, “Yes.”
“Wonderful.” Hellebore draws the door all the way open to reveal Jane, still in her cotton dress. Her eyes are horrifyingly blank above a stretched out smile. “See? She’s fine. Happy as can be. A much improved version of the mortal I found snooping around campus. Now she was practically feral.”
“She’s a child. If you so much as touched her . . .”
“Mortals don’t interest me in that way. Not when it comes to that sort of pleasure.”
Vomit.
He smiles at Jane before turning that predatory grin on me. “You should have taught her not to enter portals. She followed me to the Spring Court territories and I’m afraid now . . . she belongs to me.”
My heart plummets. If he had taken her directly from the academy, I could have filed a grievance with the council.
For a moment, I let myself imagine going back to my aunts empty-handed. Explaining how Jane is now a slave of the Spring Court and there’s nothing we can do about it.
Except there is.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“Hmm.” He presses a finger to his lips as if pondering my question. “Perhaps I simply want to keep her. Good help is hard to find, and she’s remarkably sturdy. She just spent the entire night cleaning my house without a break, and she’s still on her feet. Most mortals would have physically broken down before then. That alone makes her worth a hefty sum—if I choose to sell her.”
If I could murder anyone with my mind, he would be dead right now. Eviscerated, beheaded, and flayed.
Forcing my furious gaze off him, I look at Jane. She’s barefoot, feet dirty, still smiling. Her hands hanging limp at her sides, but I can already see the blisters forming. He’s going to work her to death.
Something flickers behind her hazel eyes. Just like Evelyn, she’s still in there. I know if I don’t rescue her today, she’ll find a way to do what she threatened.
End her own life.
I tear my focus from Jane and face him. He’s won. I know it and he knows it.
“What do you want?”
“Make another bargain with me.”
I clench my jaw. “I’ll never give you permission to touch me.”
“Maybe I don’t want that anymore.” He traces a finger over the wisteria vine tattoo spiraling down one forearm, making it curl and tighten. “No, all I ask now is this. Wear something of my choosing.”
