Page 33

Chapter

Thirty-Three

M y hands shake as I slam the door to my room. Panic seeps into my bones, making them brittle. I play back the end of our conversation, trying to puzzle out his expression just before I left.

It appears while I was gone, either Alva or Morwen turned down my bed and left an oil lamp burning. The orange glow creates a romantic atmosphere in the room, but it’s wasted on me now. Stomping over to the vanity, I sit down and remove the pins from my hair with excessive force.

Just as I’m reaching for my brush, a familiar sensation tells me I’m not alone. I spin around, searching for the source of the sensation. A bolt of lightning flashes outside, illuminating a dark figure on the balcony. Only a second passes before I’m throwing open the double doors and pulling the bastard inside.

“How dare you?” I accuse him, my fingers digging into the soft material of his shirt. Dampness coats my hands from the rain that soaks him. It drips to the floor, creating a puddle at our feet.

Thorne’s expression is cold as he stares down at me. “I was trying to help you.”

The excuse only fuels my outrage. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

He says nothing as I push him away and begin pacing across the rug. Thunder booms outside, mirroring the rage rising within me.

“Is this all some game to you?” I demand. “Did you think I’d become part of your trade? As if you could buy me from him?”

His eyes narrow at the accusation. “You know that’s not what I was doing. If you would calm down, you’d see that I don’t want to own you. I’m trying to free you.”

“I can free myself!” I scream.

My face blanches as my hands cover my mouth. I glance toward the door, my eyes round as I wait to see if any of the patrolling guards heard my outburst. Nothing but silence comes from the hallway, telling me I’m safe for now. I ball my fists, willing my anger to cool.

“All you did was make things worse,” I whisper.

His eyes harden as he cross his arms over his chest. “At least I did something.”

I take a step back. “You think I haven’t?”

“I think deep down you don’t want to be free,” he accuses. “You’d rather stay here and punish yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

His words are an invisible knife slicing across my middle, leaving me wounded and exposed. “You don’t know me.”

He laughs darkly. “I know you, Angel.”

“Clearly not if you think I want to stay here.”

“Then why didn’t you fight back when that man was hitting you?” he demands as he takes a step closer.

Seeking shelter, I turn around and ignore his question as I return to my vanity. Some small voice in the back of my mind warns not to read too closely into his insinuation, afraid of what I’ll find.

I pick up my hairbrush, resuming my earlier task as if he’s not here.

“Obviously, what happened between us was a mistake if you think it entitled you to any say over my life.” My gaze meets his through the mirror as he leans against the balcony door. “You didn’t care about any of this before.”

His arms fold over his chest as he cocks his head to the side. “We both know that’s not the truth.”

“It is!” I yank the brush through my fiery waves, wincing as it catches on a tangle. “You only care now because you realized I’m the one person on this planet who can actually bear your touch!”

Genuine hurt splashes across his face, causing something ugly to twist in my gut. I instantly wish I could pull the words back into my mouth and never let them out.

I drop the hair brush as I spin around. “Thorne, I?—”

“In case it wasn’t abundantly clear,” he cuts me off, his voice low and even, “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.” My eyes widen at his admission, but he keeps going. “No, before that. Since you tossed that first dagger at my head. So, you don’t get to call what happened between us a mistake.” He shakes his head. “Not when we both know you’ve been craving it just as long as I have.”

I want to deny his claim, but I can’t bring myself to lie in the face of his honesty.

“And before you try to purposefully misunderstand me, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Before we met, I thought my…” he trails off, searching for the right word. “ Condition was a gift. Fates” —he chuckles darkly— “I even thought it made me better than other people because it prevented me from getting distracted by petty dalliances. I never saw it as a hinderance until you. But despite all of that, I’d trade the ability to touch you ever again if it meant you would be free.”

Wetness pulls behind my eyes. No one has ever spoken to me this way, not even Baylor. I try to latch onto my fading anger from before, but it slips through my fingers.

“I’m not some weak creature you need to save.”

“Weak is never a word I’d use to describe you,” he says, his tone gentle. “But everyone needs help sometimes.”

That tiny voice in the back of my mind whispers that he might be right. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to watch out for me the way I do for others? To find me in the darkness and be my shield. Someone I could count on. Believe in. Trust.

It would be nice.

But experience has taught me that niceties are synonymous with lies. If I let myself truly believe he cares for me, I know it would only be a matter of time before he revealed it was all fake.

I close my eyes, unable to bear the weight of his pleading gaze.

“Leave,” I beg softly.

There’s silence for a few moments before his gravelly voice reaches me. “Alright. But this isn’t the end, Angel.”

A moment later, I know he’s gone. Even without looking, I sense his absence.

I did the right thing , I tell myself as my cheeks dampen. It was for the best.

But if that’s true, why do I feel so empty?