Page 44

“That’snarcissus.”
A deep voice behind me shatters my quiet moment.
I freeze. My pulse jumps, and I know before I even turn around who it is.
Slowly, I lift my gaze, and there he is. Mikhail stands a few feet away, his sharp gray eyes locked onto me, unreadable as ever. There’s something mesmerizing about him—his perfectlytailored suit, the crisp collar, the streaks of silver in his hair… and the undeniable, feral edge lurking beneath it all. My heart stutters in my chest.
He steps closer, and before I can react, he reaches down and plucks the tiny white flower from the soil, twirling it between his fingers.
“Persephone was plucking these when the God of Death rose from the Underworld to claim her,” he murmurs, holding the flower out to me.
A shiver runs down my spine.
I look at the delicate bloom between his fingers, then up at him.
It’s eerie, how similar the story is to mine. An innocent girl, oblivious to the fact that she’s about to be taken away from everything she knows. Claimed.
I hesitate.
Mikhail watches me, his gaze unwavering, waiting.
Finally, I reach out, my fingers brushing against his as I take the flower. Another jolt of heat shoots through me, just like it did when he handed me the phone last night.
I close my fingers around the bloom, my throat dry. “And what happened to her after that?”
His lips curve slightly, though it’s not quite a smile. “She became his queen.”
A breath gets caught in my throat. I don’t know what to say to that. I swallow hard, glancing down at the fragile flower in my palm. The petals feel like silk beneath my touch.
Persephone never had a choice.
Neither did I. I start to walk and he falls into step beside me.
I twirl the narcissus between my fingers, watching its delicate petals shift under the light breeze. The wind carries the scent of earth and blooming roses. I should keep quiet. I should let the moment pass. But my mother’s words echo in my head, pressing against the walls of my mind like a whispered command.
Find a way to get out of his estate.
I swallow, gripping the flower tighter before looking at him fully. “I want to leave the house.”
His expression doesn’t shift, but I see the slightest flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe.
“I’m bored,” I continue, forcing my voice to stay casual, even as my pulse hammers against my ribs. “I feel like I’m losing my mind, stuck inside all day with nowhere to go.”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“I just…I need a change of scenery,” I add, rolling the fragile stem between my fingers. “Even if it’s just for a little while.”
Silence stretches between us.
My stomach twists.Does he buy it?
Does he think I just want some fresh air, some semblance of normalcy? Or does he see right through me?
Mikhail tilts his head slightly, studying me like I’m something to be dissected. His gaze flicks to my hands, noting how I’m gripping the flower a little too tightly.
“I can’t keep sitting in that house like some caged bird,” I murmur, my throat dry. “It’s suffocating me.”
His jaw tenses.