Page 26

Chapter

Twenty-Six

F iancée.

He relishes the word, drawing it out in a way that is meant to be seductive. My stomach churns. I never thought I’d hate an endearment more than pet , but this is somehow worse.

“I missed you last night,” he continues, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair.

“I was unwell,” I mumble, trying to slow my racing heart. My mind spins as I try to process the situation. I can feel him everywhere. His arm around my stomach is a chain trapping me against him. I try to focus on my breathing again—in through my nose and out through my mouth—as he trails kisses down my neck. “How did you get in my room?”

His body goes still. “Are you not happy to have me here?”

“No!” I say quickly, inwardly cursing my own stupidity. But I can’t think with him this close. It’s too much. Especially after last night. Being close to Thorne was overwhelming is the most incredible way, but this is completely the opposite. The wrongness of it makes me feel sick.

“I’m just confused,” I offer. “My mind is struggling to catch up.”

His hand goes to my shoulder, pressing me flat on my back as he hovers over me. His face is utterly blank, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that is terrifying. I’ve fucked up. Denying him last night was the wrong decision. If I’d sent my eidolon to him like I always do, this wouldn’t be happening.

But was it really the wrong choice? Why should you have to do any of this?

I push those thoughts away, knowing they won’t help me right now.

“Did your sudden illness last night have anything to do with Killian ?”

My eyes widen as I shake my head. “No, I?—”

His hand moves to the center of my chest, less than an inch from the collar. “You two seemed very close last night, before he ruined my ball.”

I swallow, begging my heart to maintain a steady rhythm. “I was following our plan, trying to get information out of him.”

His eyes harden as he leans closer. “And how’s that working out for you, pet? Because you missed a pretty big piece of information .”

I lower my gaze. “You’re right. I’m sorry I let you down.”

He sighs as his hand moves to my chin, lifting it so that I’m forced to look at him. “Were you upset about my announcement? Is that why you didn’t come to my chambers?”

“No. I want to be with you.” The words taste awful on my tongue as I search for a way to explain my strange behavior. “I was just overwhelmed. Surprised.”

“Surprised?” His head tilts back in shock.

“Elated,” I clarify, hoping the word appeases him. “It was a happy surprise, but I didn’t expect it.” I drop my gaze again, hoping to emulate the insecurity he loves to see in me. “I know Kaldar was pushing for Bridgid to be your bride. I thought maybe… you were going to pick her.”

He barks out a laugh. “You couldn’t have thought I was actually entertaining that idea?”

His gaze trails over my face, moving down my neck and settling on my chest where the sheer fabric of my nightgown hides nothing.

“As if it could have been anyone else,” he murmurs, his hand shifting to rest on my stomach again. “Only you could be my wife... The mother of my children.”

My whole body recoils. “ Children ?”

“Not right now, pet.” He offers me a conspiratorial smile as his earlier anger is replaced by something far more dangerous. “Though we could practice making them?”

He leans in to kiss me, but I turn my head, forcing his lips to land on my cheek instead.

“I should probably bathe first,” I try to excuse myself as I lightly push against his shoulder. “I’m sure I smell.”

“After,” he whispers against my cheek. “We’ll bathe together.”

His hand moves to the buttons of my nightgown as he presses open-mouthed kisses into my neck. His scent is everywhere. Bile rises in my throat, mixing with the taste of blood as I bite my cheek to keep from screaming. He hasn’t actually touched me this way since before Leona’s death. Every instinct in my body screams at me to stop this. To push him away. But I can’t. He’ll use the collar. He’ll choke me. Or worse…

He’ll make me do it. He’ll use the collar to command me to comply.

Hot fury boils underneath my skin, burning the blood in my veins. Some dark beast inside of me thrashes against its cage, desperate to be free. It yearns to feast, to destroy. Sweat seeps from my pores as all my buried rage bubbles over.

Baylor lifts his head, brow furrowed as he searches my face. “You’re so warm?—”

A knock on the door cuts him off.

He turns his head slowly toward the source of the interruption, his jaw clenching.

“What?” he barks.

“My King,” Huxley’s nervous voice filters through the door, a much more welcome sound than last night. “There is an emergency with one of the guests. You are needed at once, sire.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to ignore the guard, but then he releases me. He groans as he rolls off the bed, gazing down at me with unrestrained need.

“Sometimes being king is a terrible burden, pet,” he complains. “We’ll have to finish this later.”

He leans in to give me a quick peck, but again, I turn my head. I know I shouldn’t. As evidenced this morning, Baylor loathes being denied. It’s completely opposite from the usual strategy I employ against him, but right now, I can’t bring myself to play the game. If I’m being honest, I’m not acting off any plan right now. There’s nothing calculated in my choice to snub him.

I simply cannot bear his touch.

He pulls back, searching my face for answers. I force my lips to curve into some semblance of a smile. It will have to be enough because I’m not capable of more right now. The gesture must mitigate the rejection slightly because with one last goodbye, he leaves.

The moment the door shuts behind him, I leap from the bed, unable to stay there now that his scent is all over the sheets. All over me .

He’s gone, but I can still feel his touch lingering on my skin. His phantom fingers send another wave of nausea through me, and this time, I don’t bother to choke it down as I empty my stomach onto the hardwood floor. When there’s nothing left to expel, I grab a pillow from the bed and shove my face into it. A ragged scream tears out of me, leaving my throat raw and scratchy. My sharp nails pierce the plush fabric, causing a sea of white feathers to explode through the room as I rip it in half. They float around me, covering everything in a blanket of softness that only infuriates me further.

I wrap my fingers around my collar, pulling at it with all my strength. The metal digs into my skin, but the clasp refuses to break. I desperately scratch and claw at my neck, ignoring the pain as I pray to the Fates to help me.

“Please,” I beg, my voice nothing but a mangled rasp. “Take it off. Take it off!”

Blood drips down my chest, staining the white lace of my nightgown. My legs give out and I sink to the floor beside my bed, rocking back and forth as I keep pulling at the collar.

“I’m begging you,” I cry. “I’ll do anything. Anything!”

I don’t know how long I sit there, soaking in my own rage and terror as I send wretched prayers into the void. Eventually, another sound reaches my ears, clashing with my pathetic murmurings. A door creaks open, followed by the thud of heavy boots stepping into the room.

I lift my head, the weight of it almost too much for my ruined neck. My brow furrows as I find my bedroom door shut. Confusion prickles my dull senses until I hear the sound again. It’s coming from behind me.

The balcony.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should probably care about this. I should be reaching for the dagger still lying somewhere on the bed. At the very least, I should stand up and prepare to fight. But I stay where I am. If the worst has already happened, what do I have left to fear? Whoever is coming for me now can’t compare to the man who just left.

“I’m here to apologize.”

Thorne.

No, I remind myself. I’m supposed to call him Killian now.

His voice registers, even though his words are meaningless. If my mind was in better shape, I’d probably have sensed him coming the way I always do. Whatever strange connection lies between us would have alerted me to his presence.

“I was out of line.” The words sound painful, as if they’re being pulled from the God of Death against his will. “What happened last night will never happen again.”

I know what he’s saying should mean something to me, but it doesn’t. Even his voice sounds distant, as if he’s calling out to me from the other side of the veil. Have I died? And if so, do I care? Warning bells sound in the back of my mind, trying to alert me to the dangerous direction of my thoughts.

“Are you hiding from me now?”

Boots appear in front of me. Slowly, I drag my gaze up his rigid body, moving over his legs and torso until I find his face. He sounded annoyed when he spoke, but now a different kind of fire blazes behind his eyes. One that I recognize.

Fury.

Muscles clench along his jaw as his eyes rake over my bloodstained nightgown, and the scratches along my throat and face. He’s completely still as he watches me, his fists clenched tight at his sides.

“Who did this to you?” he grinds out the words.

The authority in his voice compels me to speak, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. He takes a step closer, lifting his gloved hand toward my aching neck.

I flinch.

His eyes flare and his hand quickly retreats, flexing at his side. I wish my brain was working better right now. I tilt my head, grimacing as the movement pulls at my wounds. But I need to get a better look at him. I need to understand why the most fearsome person I know appears helpless before me. Is it my fault? Did I cause this?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not knowing what else to do.

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. His gaze moves to the bed behind me, and a second later, he’s lunging forward. I lift my arms to shield myself, but all he does is rip the sheet from the bed and lift it to his nose. His eyes darken at whatever he scents, causing the tiny hairs on my arms to rise.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” he spits the words.

Baylor, I realize. He’s going to kill Baylor. And he could do it. He could actually destroy that heartless bastard. Fear charges through my foggy thoughts, reminding me why that’s a terrible idea.

“Don’t!”

He stares down at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You beg for his life? Even now? After this?”

The implication in his words causes another sharp crack in my chest. “You don’t understand,” I offer lamely. “You don’t know what he’s done.”

The God of Death drops to his knees before me.

“Then tell me!” he begs, reaching forward slowly, giving me a chance to pull away before he takes my fingers in his. “Tell me what he’s done?”

I shake my head, unable to force myself to explain the truth of the collar.

“Please,” I beg him softly, my voice catching on the words. “Please, just get me out of here.

Tears flood down my face unrestrained. His mouth falls open and his gaze flits around the room, as if he’s searching for a way to fix this. He rises to his feet, pacing back and forth as he runs a hand through his dark hair, already messy from the wind. When he turns back to me, his face is hard with resolve.

“Okay,” he agrees, taking deep breathes to steady himself. “I can do that. But I need you to be careful not to touch my skin.”

I nod.

Thorne disappears behind me for a moment, and I can hear him riffling through my armoire. When he returns, he’s holding my thick cloak and a pair of gloves I haven’t worn in ages. He gently wraps me in the soft garment, buttoning it all the way up to my throat before finagling my hands into the gloves.

As if I weigh nothing at all, Thorne lifts me in his arms and cradles me against his chest. Doing as he asked, I make sure not to touch any part of his skin as I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. Immediately, a strange sensation settles over me. One I’ve never truly felt before.

Safety.

“Will anyone see us?” I whisper, enjoying the cool air that kisses my cheeks as we step onto the balcony.

“No,” he promises, his voice sounding strained. “I’m rather good at staying out of sight.”

The smallest smile appears on my face as he leaps into the sky, carrying me away from all my troubles.

“Me too,” I murmur.