Page 119

She’s not special.

She watches me with a stunned expression. “Then what’s the problem?”

I keep my breathing shallow as the pain recedes. “I got addicted to Scratch,” I explain. It’s not a secret or anything, but it still costs me something to give this up. A token of my weakness. My failure. “Something about it wreaked havoc on my endocrine system, and now...” I offer her a tight, joyless grin. “Well, let’s just say those syringes you think so little of? They take hours out of my goddamn day to fill.”

She blinks, confusion filling her eyes. “But that night when you were sleepwalking…” The pink of her cheeks deepens. “I… felt you.”

“I don’t remember. I never remember what happens when I’m asleep.” Scowling, I make sure she registers the gravity in my voice when I add, “But I always remember the aftermath.”

Never breaking my gaze, she touches her throat, four delicate fingertips brushing the spot I’d bruised. “Oh.”

“I’m a monster on it, and a monster off, but only one won’t leave my brain scrambled.”

But after feeling her come on my tongue and wanting so bad for it to be on my cock, the urge to cave is so fucking strong.

I wipe my mouth before declaring, “Open your next gift.”

I’d wanted to wait until dinner was finished, but I see now that it’s necessary. Those delicate fingertips of hers reach for the golden ribbon, plucking it apart. If I’m honest, I’ve been shit at this. I don’t know what Verity wants because I don’t knowher, and I don’t care to.

But I think I’ve figured it out.

She doesn’t want flowers or sparkly trinkets. She’s a daughter of the West, and there are some things they value above all others. Loyalty. Tenacity. Strength. I attended Nick Bruin’s first fight to become Duke. If romanceisnecessary, then it’ll need to be given in a language she’s familiar with.

Violence.

The second she opens the box, she’s lurching from her seat, mouth gaping in horror as she clutches her chest. “Oh my god!” she gasps, the color bleeding from her cheeks. “What the f–that’s a finger!”

“I got that for you,” I explain, glancing at the severed digit, “to show you that you’re safe here. We’ll never let anyone treat our Princess with the disrespect he did.” It’s on a bed of golden satin, but the fingernail is dirty. I’d spent a ridiculous amount of time earlier wondering if I should clean it up, give it a little manicure, since it’s a gift and all.

Maybe I should have, because her reaction is a bit of a letdown. Her face contorts as she looks closer, chest jumping with these panicked little hitches of breath. But then she pauses, eyes zeroing in on the silver ring attached to it. She mouths a name. “Bruce?”

“Yes,” I confirm. Her gasps clip off, chest stilling as she approaches the box with a gleam of curiosity in her green eyes. I point out, “He hurt you.”

“I–” Her eyes flick up to mine, flashing with the memory of something painful. “Yeah, he did.”

Nodding, I reach out to close the box for her, getting the feeling that she won’t want to touch it. “I need you to understand that I hurt people too, Verity.” Sliding the box aside, I nod to her seat, waiting until she sits again. “I’m not him–I don’t do it for pleasure. Bruce Oakfield was a job, and if you and I can’t agree on anything else, then we at least see eye-to-eye on the fact he deserved it.”

Her answer is immediate and clear. “We do.” She might not thank me, but there’s gratitude in her eyes, even if it’s tinged with fear.

I hold her stare. “I’m incredibly skilled at what I do to people. Talented, even. When I’m awake, I know who to inflict it on.” I gesture to the box. “But when I’m asleep, I don’t. Things get… mixed up. Endorphins. Adrenaline. It doesn’t mean I’m not,” I chew the word out, “deficient. If anything, it’s just more proof that I am.”

Her throat clicks with a dry swallow, gaze dropping to her empty plate. “I shouldn’t have said that about you. I didn’t know.”

I shift uncomfortably, noticing that she hasn’t made even one move to fill her plate. “I’ve ruined your appetite.”

But then she glances up, all coy and sweet through her lashes. Her mouth twitches with a reluctant, tense smile. “Would you think less of me if I said you didn’t?”

I give the same grin back, picking up my fork. “The carrots are really good.”

I should say something more, Danner would want me to, but talking isn’t something done in the Purple Palace. We speak in threats, by inflicting pain, and through deafening silences. But this one exchange gives me more insight into why Father may have chosen this girl to be Princess. She’s strong. More so than any other girl that’s walked through here lately and consequently failed. He wanted a victor and he had to go to the deepest, scrappiest parts of Forsyth to find someone that had what it takes to win–tocreate–and I’m going to have to do everything it takes to make that happen.

20

Verity

The library isextra quiet in the middle of the afternoon, most people opting to hang out in their dorms or still in classes. Wicker and I are sharing a plaid loveseat, his arm draped across the back of it, brushing against my shoulders. He has a book fanned open on his lap, but occasionally, I feel the twist of his fingers in my hair, the smallest tug to let me know he’s still there.

Today is the first day he’s so much as glanced at me since I started my period, but the sudden request–order, more like–to join him in the library for a study hour wasn’t exactly a surprise. I’m nervous, struggling to focus on the quiz I’m taking on my laptop. It’s Tuesday–hisday–and he’d made it very clear that he wasn’t going to sacrifice more than one of his days for the sake of my reproductive system.