Page 133 of Blackheart

He pushed me off, wincing and holding his neck. “No wonder they caged you,” he gritted out. “You act like an animal.”

With his blood on my tongue, my lips smelled of his skin—a mixture of roses, rain, and regret. The taste was addicting, like the first time hearing a new favorite song. I frowned, ashamed. It must’ve been an effect of the blood magic.

He had to be dealt with before he disappeared again and hurt other people. Frantically, I started throwing every bit of poison within my bloodstream. One hand at a time, I formed palm-sized orbs, barreling them at his head.

He dodged them, stepping aside and ducking. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” he warned.

He didn’t care if I hurt myself, nor did I care what he had to say. Every drop of venom that had built up inside me over the years erupted like a volcano, from my hands, nose, eyes, and mouth. It was all I could do to aim as much of it at him as possible.

My head spun, my limbs trembling. Soon, my Nature wasn’t the only thing coming out of my mouth. Copious amounts of dark emesis pooled onto the ground as I lost control.

I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t be useless again.

Payn stepped towards me, shaking his head. “Please stop.”

“Oh, since you asked politely.” I grabbed a handful of the vomit puddle, and threw it at him. He turned, but not fast enough. It hit him in the chest with a wet smack, dripping down his front.

“You’re absolutely feral.”

My vision blurred, and my hands lost feeling altogether.

“You would be too,” I mumbled as the world became shadows and stars.

He clicked his tongue. “Now I’m going to have to find something to do with you, Brat.”

I wanted to scream. To tell him not to touch me.

But I couldn’t. He picked me up off the ground, pressing my face against his soaked chest. My own poison was scented so deceivingly clean, like freshly watered roses. Did it smell that way to other people, too?

Everything was wet. Had it started raining? I lost sense of what was real, and what wasn’t. The only thing I was sure of was darkness, and him. Whether he planned to kill or kidnap me, all I could do was embrace oblivion.

Dishes clanked in the distance. My eyes fluttered open, daylight pouring in.

In my room.

I sat up, snatching Singer off the nightstand and surveyed my surroundings. It appeared untouched. I was still in my gown.

If it weren’t for the black and violet stains covering the dress, I’d think my interaction with Payn was a nightmare. My blood went cold.

If I was here, then Payn could be in the house. He could’ve killed Xavian in his sleep. He could?—

I ran down the stairs with Singer, tripping over my disgusting dress. My heart thundered as I rushed into the kitchen, only to find the cook prepping breakfast and Xavian sitting on the couch, papers in hand.

It was still early. The food wasn’t ready yet.

I sighed with relief. Riven must have found me with Payn and fixed everything.

A wave of chills ran down my spine. Was Riven hurt? Had he been able to kill Payn?

“What in Fate’s name is all over you?” Xavian asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“Vomit.”

He squinted at my dress. “Why?”

“Because I threw up. Where’s Riven?”

“Waiting for you outside.”