Page 18

The en suite bathroom was elegant in its simplicity. Like the rest of the wing, it was onyx, striking against the glossy white fixtures throughout the space. The candles I’d lit generated a soft glow of warm, gentle light, softening against the sharp contrast of the dark backdrop. A huge soaker tub sat before a built-in crystal inglenook nestled in the corner.

Once I’d turned the water on, I inhaled deeply before expelling it from my lungs. My eyelashes dusted against my cheeks as I fought off the need to crawl into the fetal position and rocked back and forth on the glistening, clean floor.

Today had been the longest and worst day of my life. Both of my friends were gravely wounded because of me. Neither deserved what transpired or happened to them. I’d lost my brother, then stood accused of harming one of the very few people in my life who had never shunned me or acted as if I didn’t exist.

Turning toward the sink to search for a toothbrush, the air escaped past my lips. My eyebrows shot up as tiny fairy lights sparkled enchantingly against the obsidian-colored paint. A long, flowing oblong-shaped mirror sat above two glossy white basins.

Beauty products were on the floating shelves beside the vanity. A glance told me they were my preferred brands. At least, they’d been so when I could afford such luxuries.

Picking up the watermelon scented soap, I smiled as it comforted my nerves. Normalcy wasn’t something I’d ever thought to crave, but I did. I needed it as deeply as I wanted someone to hold and assure me that everything would be okay. It was just a bad day, not a bad life.

I’d taken such things for granted before I’d learned how precarious life was. It was fleeting and could be lost without warning. Tomorrow wasn’t for everyone. One day, you’d wake up without knowing it would be your last.

I’d never fully comprehended or had experienced emotional pain before. Not until Rhys denounced his claim over me and now this. Losing my brother and both of the friends I held near to me. I’d never realized a heart could break. That it could physically ache until you felt like you’d never fully breathe again.

Today, a new type of pain had cut through me. It had swallowed me entirely when I’d watched Nyx’s limp, lifeless body colliding against the porch of the chateau.

Grief wasn’t something I’d ever had to feel until today. I’d had it forced upon me with vicious cruelty. I’d gone from thinking I’d lost Nyx, to learning I’d lost my brother, to then being accused of attempting to murder Nyota in only a matter of hours.

Reaching for the crystal knob, I leaned over and cupped the water in my palms. Splashing it over my face, I shivered as it chilled against my heated flesh. Straightening my spine, I stared at my pale, exhausted reflection with uneasiness.

The dress I wore had been drenched with Nyota’s blood. It was dried and glued to my flesh. Peeling it off over my head, I tossed the soiled garment to the side. Next, I hooked my fingers through my thin lace panties, forcing them down over my hips.

On the stand beside the soaker tub sat my shampoo, conditioner, and body soap. Ambling closer, I tested the temperature of the water as goosebumps spread over my flesh. Once I’d ensured there were towels and a washcloth set out, I slipped into the heavenly warm water.

The moment I was fully submerged in the water, a sigh of contentment escaped from deep in my chest. Resting my head against the curved back of the tub, I studied the dancing flames of the fire as they crackled comfortingly.

Rhys hated me.

At least, he worked to make me believe he did.

I’d been foolish enough to think there was hope for more between us. In the end, I should’ve realized there couldn’t be. Rhys wouldn’t unpack the baggage he carried.

He blamed me and my entire family as if we’d been present when the horrors of the past occurred. We were as guilty as if we’d murdered his mother; that we hadn’t wielded the weapon was the one thing staying his hand from slaughtering us all. At least, it’s how it felt to me.

I was his enemy.

I needed to keep that in mind moving forward with him.

The knowledge that he had decorated this entire wing with things we’d discussed as I’d recovered from the attack by Laura. The tub was something I’d explained in detail, along with the fireplace beside it.

The embellishments he’d added were for me, which meant he’d wanted me to know he’d designed it as a gilded cage. Rhys chose most of the designs to throw in my face. Sure, there were parts he’d chosen himself.

He’d added a masculine touch to remind me where I live now. But also, he made the rules I now had to follow and obey. Rhys enjoyed having power over me. At least, that’s what it felt like. In doing so, he’d built us the perfect home, even if it hadn’t been his intent. He’d added the magic, then ensured it pulsated like a living, breathing domicile. He had wanted me to feel it, to know it was a gilded cage.

I couldn’t escape this place.

One, I couldn’t escape.

It was filled with him, as well. From his addictive cologne wafting through the air like Febreze, to the masculine touches he’d personally added to each room. I couldn’t escape this place and I couldn’t escape him .

Closing my eyes, I slowly sank beneath the watery surface. The moment I was completely submerged, I released a scream that resulted in bubbles of air rushing to the surface. The water concealed the frustration and pain my scream held.

Only when my lungs burned with actual pain did I emerge from the water. The moment my head lifted, I caught the addictive smell of whiskey, dark whispers of smoke, and masculinity clouding the air surrounding me.

“Jesus, rice, and holy wheat crackers,” I muttered in a tone crammed full of exhaustion.

It wasn’t the usual exhaustion. It was bone deep, as if it had soaked into the very core of my being. I’d aged since returning to this shithole I’d once called home. As if I’d been forced to lose the naivety that I’d once worn like blinders.

There was nothing wrong with holding some innocence. I’d never been ashamed of the childish hopes I’d dreamed for my future, or whatever dreams I’d fantasized about throughout adolescence. At least, I had held some until it was taken away from me.

Rhys had swallowed my innocence with his darkness. He’d swallowed my light, then spit me out once he’d fully devoured it. It had left me inundated in obscurity, forced to feel it caressing against my flesh every moment of every single day.

I didn’t even hate him for altering what or who I’d been before meeting him. I couldn’t. Rhys had replaced my light with something so precious that I’d die to protect it. He’d given me a child. One that was created from joining two souls together.

One soul created of light, the other dark.

He’d given me a child. One that needed me to face the harsh reality of the world we lived in. Rhys might’ve taken my naivety away, but he’d replaced it with something inimitable.

Sure, anyone could create a life together. This was much bigger than that, though. Rhys had knowingly impregnated me during Beltane. He’d wanted me to carry his child. I had to figure out what he’d done by taking advantage of my gullibility.

I was such an idiot.

It begged the question: had he wanted this child? Had he ensured we created one together for a more sinister reason, or did he crave to be a father? If he did, it would make this easier for the two of us.

I wasn’t afraid of raising a child alone. Many women did so easily. Luckily, I hadn’t been born in some medieval time where a woman needed a man to do everything for her or support her and her offspring.

If Rhys refused to aid me with his child, then I’d do whatever it took to do it on my own. It wasn’t a question. I’d do whatever it took to ensure my child never went without.

I had nothing to offer my child other than love. If I had to, I’d lean on my family to safeguard my child’s future.

I’d figure out how to get whatever we needed, but having help from Rhys would ease the stress I felt daily, without being able to afford the immense cost that raising a child came with.

The attack on Nyota by my silver probably ruined any chance of happiness we might have had. Illeron’s timing couldn’t have been worse. He’d intended to overthrow Rhys, using me as a scapegoat for his achieving that goal.

Worrying about Nyota was twisting my stomach into knots. Being here, alone, without anyone to talk to or consult about what occurred, wasn’t helping. Normally, I could solve a puzzle if I talked about it with another, but I had no allies in this house. Rhys wasn’t an option, either.

He hadn’t even questioned my guilt, which hurt. Instead, he’d had me hauled to my gilded cage, then locked inside. Rhys hadn’t asked me what happened inside that room.

Of course, Illeron had immediately called into question his ability to protect those beneath his vow of protection. He’d used me to ensure others would question it as well, pointing out how biased he was due to bringing me here, along with the child I carried.

“Lovely.” Rhys’ husky timbre caressed my flesh like a lover’s tender touch as he forced my mind back to the present, away from my worries.

A shiver rushed down my spine as I caught his reflection in the glass. He’d removed his shirt, then changed out of his slacks. Dressed only in gray sweatpants, he stood poised in the doorway with his hands resting on the overhead frame. It caused the muscles of his abdomen to flex, revealing his impressive ink and muscles.

Rhys was gorgeously built. It was as if the gods had plucked him straight off the cover of a men’s fitness magazine. The moment they had created him, they’d brought to life every woman’s perfect fantasy.

The obliques of his stomach slid down to a sensual, masculine V, vanishing beneath the sweatpants. Black swirls moved down his sides in wisps of ink. I knew those lines intimately. I had carnal knowledge of every single inch of his perfect, sinful body.

I was so screwed.

“Coming to bed, Love?”

“I’d rather not,” I replied, then inwardly flinched as a seductress’s voice escaped my lips.

Rhys’ mouth curved into a devilish smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Is that so, Van Helsing?” Forcing my legs up to conceal my nakedness. I refused to cower when he strolled deeper inside the bathroom. Holding his stare in the glass until he’d moved too deep into the chamber, I swallowed past the tension forming in my abdomen. “Did you need something?”

“My woman,” he replied huskily. “I need her to come to bed with me. She’s had an eventful day, after all. I must ensure she receives proper care while carrying my child. So, do you intend to come of your own free will, or shall I carry you to bed?” Folding his arms the moment he reached the side of the tub, he tipped his head to the side, waiting for my reply.

This man would be the death of me. It was the only thing I knew for certain. He’d be the one to put the nails in my coffin. Swallowing past the need currently crowding in my throat, I sought the answer to his question. As I struggled to say anything, he kneeled beside the tub, flicking water toward my face.

“I don’t care either way. The answer matters little. One way or another, you’re coming to my bed tonight. When you do, there will be nothing between us. Do try to keep your hands to yourself. I’ve very little self-control right now. Since the day you left, I’ve abstained from feeding.”

Rhys’ words sent heat pulsing to my apex. It had been his intention all along. Turning to look over at him, I ensured he noted the eye roll I awarded him with.

“I suggest you use your fucking hand, Rhys. You’ve called me filthy names, accused me of harming someone I care about, and then treated me like trash. If you think I’m about to slip and land on that dick, you’re mistaken. I can walk,” I hissed, then stood up and stepped out of the bath, ensuring he had to move or be stepped on. “Goodnight. I hope you have nightmares.” Flicking my wet curls over my shoulder, I marched to the plush terry cloth towel, plucking it from the rack before wrapping it around my frame.

The sound of his amused laughter followed me into the master suite. I’d had enough of his shit. His mood swings were more than mine had been during the entire first trimester. If he thought I’d simply fall into his lap, he was mistaken. I had no time for his head games, nor did I have the energy to play them with him. If he wanted me, he could get on his knees and beg.