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“That’s on you,” she sneered. “I don’t get a say in the arrangements. I’m told where to go and when, what to say and how to say it.”

“And yet you continuously do the opposite. You know what I think, Tessa?”

“I don’t care what you think.”

He released her chin, letting his fingers drag down her throat before he traced them along the neckline of the dress she was still clutching to her chest. “I think you enjoy toeing the line. It makes you feel alive.”

“You know nothing about me, Theon. Nothing.”

“I know you hate socks.” She clicked her tongue, turning away from him again, but he kept going. “I know you love food that is terrible for you. I know heels hurt your feet.”

“Heels hurt everyone’s feet. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar,” she grumbled.

“I know you’d rather be on a Chaosphere field than stuck inside. You prefer mornings over nights. You’ve discovered a love of music. You hate running, but love it at the same time. You’re impulsive and reckless, and your friends use that against you, but pretend they are doing you favors.”

Her eyes snapped back to his. “They do not do that.”

“No, perhaps not all of them. I’ll give you that,” he conceded. “But I know more than that.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” she said with derision.

He leaned in close, bringing his face a mere inch from hers. “You didn’t want to be Selected as a Source, but a part of you is glad you were because it means you’re not as worthless as you’ve clearly been told you are. That someone just might see some value in you, even if you can’t see it yourself. It’s a little bit of hope you’re too afraid to cling to, so you let yourself sink instead. But that’s not what scares you the most. No, the thing that scares you most is that you want this life. You want to be more than forgotten. You want to be more than just another Fae assigned to some menial task in the kingdoms. I know you’re simply too afraid to admit you want it, let alone claim it. How did I do, little storm? How close am I? How well do I not know you?”

She was staring at him, and even with everything he did know about her, he still couldn’t read any of the emotions swimming in her eyes. He’d known this would go one of two ways. She’d either shut down or she’d fight, and gods, he hoped she was going to fucking fight with him because she needed to let out all that rage before it consumed her. A person could only push that down so far before it boiled over.

Or in Tessa’s case, before he found himself being blasted across a fucking parking lot.

Her chest was heaving, and he waited, watching her every move. He’d moved back a fraction, just enough to give her a little space to breathe, but not enough to go anywhere.

Her lips suddenly curved, the smile so dark and wicked he didn’t think she was capable of such a thing. “You think I want this life?” she asked, and the chill of her tone sent the same through him. “Oh, Theon. Why in the realms would I want to be bonded to you for the rest of my years?”

A bark of incredulous laughter fell from her lips, and Theon almost smiled at the viciousness of it.

“You, Theon St. Orcas, are exactly the reason I didn’t want to be Selected. Who in their right mind wants to be chained to someone who craves control because he doesn’t have any?” He unwittingly took a step back from her, and that maniacal smile only grew, violet rings sparking in her eyes. “You think I haven’t noticed? You think I haven’t watched? Listened? Learned everything I can about the people I am forced to spend every wretched minute with? Axel deflects anything and everything, pacifying someone just enough until he can figure out how to get what he wants. Luka acts broody and apathetic, but in reality? He’s searching for himself and how he fits into all of this fuckery. And you?” A pointed finger landed on his chest, a nail digging into the fabric of his shirt. “You think you have control because your father gives you the illusion that you do. You force everyone to bend to your will because you are forever forced to bend to his. You demand perfection. Tell me failure is not an option, but you are the biggest failure of all, aren’t you? Because you are exactly like your father, despite every effort not to be.”

His hand was around her throat before she could blink—before he could blink—shoving her back against the wall once more.

She didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she continued to smirk at him, her eyes glowing brightly as she said, “How did I do, Master? How close am I? How well do I not know you?”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t hunt down Tristyn right now and make him pay for touching what is mine? To show just how in control I am, Tessalyn.”

“You call this control? Your hand is on my throat,” she tossed back.

And a dark smirk curved on his own lips as he answered, “If I wasn’t in control, Tessa, I’d be squeezing. You know that’s why I’ve left you to Luka and Axel the last few days, right? So I could make sure I was in control when I’m around you.”

She scoffed. “And you think you’re in control when you constantly need keepers to keep you in check?”

“I don’t need keepers,” he snapped, his fingers flexing the barest amount.

“You have no control, Theon,” she repeated. “They call me reckless and impulsive, but I can take control from you with one hand.”

“Is that so?” he countered.

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”