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A minute passes in which I absorb the energies around me. The warmth of the evening air. The moonlight upon my skin. The light breeze through the bushes. The chirping of the crickets. Everything is as it should be, and yet I am not.
Another tear slides down my face, slipping into the water as I draw in a long, deep breath. And then I do the only thing I can to temper my simmering rage and agony. I dunk my head beneath the water and scream until there’s nothing left in my lungs.
When I emerge again, I feel lighter but still unsettled. And I know the truth is I will be for a long time. Until I know my sister is okay, this feeling will live inside me, and I must find a way to make peace with that.
I wipe the mascara bleeding down my face and swim to the edge of the pool, hoisting myself up onto the concrete. Water drips from my body as I wring out my hair and stare up at the moon, wondering if Willow sees it too. Is it bringing her any peace tonight?
I close my eyes and fall into stillness, focusing on my breath. Allowing my skin to dry. My heart to slow. My head to clear.
I don’t know how long I remain there that way, but I know instinctively I am not alone anymore. Perhaps I should be afraid, but I’m not. Because this energy feels familiar as it draws nearer. It feels like him. And I would rather die here on the spot than show weakness in the face of a Delacroix.
“Have you come back to punish me?” I ask without opening my eyes.
There’s a moment’s pause before warm fingers settle beneath my chin, tilting my face up. “And why would you think that?”
I open my eyes to meet his, still as vivid beneath the moonlight as they were earlier. My memory didn’t alter that over the space of an hour. I also didn’t confuse what I thought I saw in them. The same hunger smolders in the depths of those eyes as they travel the length of my naked body before flaring slightly at the edges.
“It was written all over your face,” I tell him. “The same way it is now. Your bloodline is quite infamous for inflicting punishment, in case you haven’t heard. You say it’s about a war. A curse. A treaty. There’s always some excuse. But it’s okay because I know the truth.”
Amusement flickers in his eyes as he humors me with an arch of his brow. “By all means, enlighten me.”
I lean closer, like he isn’t my mortal enemy, settling my hand on his chest sweetly as I lean up on my toes to whisper my response. “Your kind have been obsessed with my family since the first time they laid eyes upon us. You couldn’t bear our rejections, so you took your Wildblood women the only way you could. By force.”
His eyes flash with irritation as his fingers tighten on my face, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. I’m feeling pretty good about it for all of two seconds.
“If I wanted you.” He leans down, bringing his face to within an inch of mine. “There is no amount of salt or stones that could save you from me. Remember that next time you try your magic to banish me.”
I swallow instinctively, allowing his threat to loom without challenge. He wants me to know he’s been here this whole time… watching me. Perhaps he wants me to tremble before him. Perhaps I should be, but I’m not.
Silence consumes the space between us, and neither of us backs down. My feet burn from standing on my toes, trying to appear even a fraction intimidating to his unyielding frame. The man is quite simply a behemoth. He’s well over a foot above my head, and I know he finds me as intimidating as a kitten, but I still refuse to falter.
“Do you make a habit out of greeting company naked?” he clips out as my nipples scrape against the fabric of his sweater.
I arch a brow at him, unashamed. “I wouldn’t exactly call you company. More like… a pest that simply won’t die no matter how often we exterminate them.”
My observation stokes a fire in him. One I know lives in every Delacroix. They blame us for all their problems. They want our repentance. Our submission. And most of all, they want our blood. It has been the same for every generation. And yet, they can’t stay away from the Wildblood women. Something calls them back to us, time and time again. A desire that can’t be muted, no matter how many of us they sacrifice.
“I could have been anyone lurking out here.” His voice dips an octave as he releases my face, only to retrieve my robe. “You should be more careful.”
“I’m not afraid of men.” I tilt my face up further as an antagonistic smile curves my lips. “Nor monsters.”
“You Wildblood women are always brave.” Emmanuel circles around me, draping the robe over my shoulders. “Until you’re on your knees, begging for our mercy.”
I tell myself it’s the silk against my skin making goosebumps rise and not the graze of his fingers on my bare arms as he dresses me like it’s his right. He gathers my tangled wet hair and drapes it over one shoulder before leaning closer, his arms coming around my middle to knot the robe far tighter than it needs to be. As if to keep himself out. As if to resist temptation.
His breath skitters over my ear, warm and deadly as he murmurs against me. “You’re lucky you aren’t the one to bear the mark.”
I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself.
“What would you have done if I was?”
He’s silent behind me, but I can feel the heat radiating from him. The strength and intensity rolling off him in waves. He wants me, and he hates himself for it.
“Would you go to war to have me?” I question. “Would you fight your brother to the death? Or would you let him take me every night while you lie in your room and listen?”
“Enough,” he growls, tangling his fist in my hair and tightening his grip. “Watch your mouth, girl. My patience is wearing thin.”
“Why are you here?” I snarl back at him. “Why are you watching me? The sacrifice has been made. The deal is done.”
