Page 59

In my mind, I’m still there, hands braced to the wall as the whip strikes my back. Hold it. The dāemon blares, but an urgent voice cuts through the fog. “Pandora, look at me.”

He pulls at me, shaking my shoulders and patting at my face. I try, but my vision blurs at the edges as the dāemon wracks through me. Again and again and again. Hold it. I groan, body tensing with the force of it, and he’s picking me up and hauling me to his chest. No, he shouldn’t do that…why shouldn’t he do that?

He’ll feel it.

I tamp down on that force inside of me, begging, pleading for it to stay there, and my body spasms around it. “Pandora, hey, hey l—look at me,” he says, sounding more panicked now. He cups my chin and smooths my hair. I blink at him as the dāemon continues to surge. His brows are pressed over questioning eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” A groan slips out of me, and the motion of his hands grows more frantic. “What hurts, baby?” His fingers smooth over my skin right over where that violent force inside of me rages .

He’ll feel it. He’ll feel it! I push back so rapidly I topple onto the floor, sending pain lancing up my hip, but it’s nothing compared to the waves of the dāemon pelting over me.

I scramble to my feet, chest heaving as I look around. Some part of me still expects to see the walls in the House of Shroud. The room where I…I run my hands over my wrists, which are bare of shackles. And then the more lucid part of me is checking for signs I’ve wrecked something. My chest sinks as I spot the painting shattered on the floor. And even worse behind it, the cracks in the wall.

But then he’s there, bearing over me and smoothing his hands up over my wrists. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he coaxes.

I jerk away from him. “Don’t! Don’t touch me.”

Shock splashes across his features as his hands fall loose to his sides.

“What are you doing here?” My voice is too harsh, expecting him to batter me with accusations at any moment but his face remains free of suspicion, full of concern instead.

He strokes his thumb over the mark on his wrist as he surveys the room, gaze lingering on the shattered portrait. “I felt your fear, and then I heard shattering glass.”

“You…felt my fear,” I repeat blankly.

“The Mark, yeah, alerted me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Mark alerts me when you’re afraid, so I know when you’re in danger.”

Meaning he’ll be alerted every time I have a nightmare…my heart drops.

“Gods, I thought—“ He breaks off, clutching at his chest and looking around the room as if searching for some kind of threat before his gaze finds me again, brows knitting. “You’re okay,” he sighs. He takes a step forward, hands stretching toward me. “Are you…okay?”

I take a step back as the dāemon continues beating furiously under my skin. “You heard it…?”

“Yeah, I was…” He points. “In the next room over. Are you alright?” he repeats.

“I’m fine,” I lie, voice creeping up an octave as pain continues to sear and blur my vision. I grit my teeth with a sharp breath, straining to keep my voice steady. “It was just a nightmare. You can go.”

“Tell me what’s wrong with you,” he demands and then softer. “What’s wrong with you?” He scrutinizes me. “Has something happened to you?”

“No,” I say sharply. I wipe at my face, the cold sweat that’s accumulated across it. Early morning light seeps in through the windows, and swirling dust gathers in the beams. It’d taken hours for the henbane to finally wear off. Long gut-wrenching hours, unable to sleep, playing that shamed look across his face before he left.

A fire he’d ignited in me and the pile of sordid ash he left behind. The way I begged . I can feel the blood rushing up to my face now. The dāemon thrashes with my toiling emotions, draining the blood right back out. It takes everything not to sink to my knees. I wrap my arms around my abdomen and dig my nails in.

Please leave.

Before the dāemon exposes me for what I really am.

“No, something is wrong with you,” he insists. “I can see it in your face. You were…“ He points toward the couch. “You acted like you were in pain. Are you…in pain?” His eyes flicker over my body again, over my arms wrapped around myself. “What’s wrong with you?” he says softly. “I don’t understand. Let me help you...”

“I want you to leave,” I snap. I can’t keep up the facade right now. But he doesn’t make to move. “You get to leave when you want to leave. I don’t have that option, so please,” I say, lifting a hand in the direction of his bedroom. “Give me that.”

“Pandora.” He takes a step forward, and I take one back. Pain flashes in his eyes. “I left because I didn’t want you to do something you regretted while you were under the influence of the henbane.”

I blink, the words cracking through my shield and seeding hope underneath my ribs. He lets out a heavy exhale. “But maybe you already did…something… you regret?” He searches my face.

Do I regret it? Throwing myself at him? With my whole being. But I’ll never admit it after I begged for it. The dāemon sears, white-hot blazing pain. I need him out of here. I snort. “No, I don’t regret it. I got what I wanted, and that’s all it was,” I sneer.

It lands like a slap, exactly as I intended, but I still have to fight back a wince at the confused, pain-filled look on his face. But then his face contorts, hardening as he moves closer to me. I move back until my back thumps against the wall.

“I know what you’re doing, Pandora. I’ve done it too many times not to recognize it. You’re trying to drive me off. Why?” When I don’t answer he leans down and stares at me intently. “What could you possibly have to hide?”

Everything .

He reaches up, strokes my cheek, and I tremble as the dāemon pounds. Pounds . Pounds . Bleeding the blood from my face and bleeding any chance I have at living away from me. “You can talk to me,” he says gently.

Don’t you ever tell anyone the truth.

“I’m sorry I left. It’s not because I don’t want you.”

That catches, pierces, seeps right under my ribs. Twists my heart in bitter agony. He does want me? I shake my head again obstinately. “I do, I want you , Pandora.”

“You’re ashamed of me,” I rasp.

“I am not ashamed of you,” he says sternly. “I just can’t let Morin find out I…care about you.”

I blink. It’s hard to absorb his words with the dāemon’s torment. It’s so strong . Begging to discharge even though it just released. Like it’s power won’t stop growing, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. “You left.”

“I told you I didn’t want you to do something you would end up regretting. I’d rather that happen between us organically, not because the henbane made us…”

“You were embarrassed,” I argue. “After we…”

He gives me a long look, and understanding dawns in his eyes. “Well, a little bit because you…” He looks down, teeth gritted somewhere between a grin and a grimace, as his cheeks flush. “You didn’t even… and you made me…” His stare is pointed.

“So did I.”

“Fair enough. Bit of a different stigma for men, though.” He coughs. “And it’s definitely not my first time.” My brows pinch in confusion. “But I’m not ashamed of you or… what we did.”

The dāemon thrashes wildly beneath my skin, wanting release with a vengeance. I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep it contained. I can’t talk about any of this right now. I need him to leave.

Plus he wouldn't…He wouldn’t want me if he knew what I really was. It was stupid to think I could ever…have that. Not with who I am! Not with what I am! No, he’s already getting too close, meddling in things I can’t afford for him to meddle in. My eyes flicker toward the bedroom. Imagine if he wanted us to start sleeping in the same bed.

And even if we did…and I eventually expose myself…He’ll never want me then, once he knows how demented I really am. It would only end in heartbreak…and last night, I got a full taste of what that heartbreak feels like. No, it’s safer this way.

He moves closer, breaths caressing my forehead. “Do you think I would hurt you?” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t. I won’t. Not you, Pandora. Never you.”

But would he…if he knew?

His hand tightens around my face. “Please don’t be afraid.”

But I’m fucking terrified. The dāemon strikes. Once. Twice. I can’t be close to him. To anyone . I press my hand over his, suck in a breath as if I can absorb that one last touch. Look him dead in the eyes, face empty of emotion, as I yank his hand off of me. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sitri. You were only ever my only choice.”

He flinches, the breath pushed so fast through his teeth it sounds like a hiss. He backs up, horror in his eyes like he’s really seeing the truth in those words. Like he really believes it.

Exactly as I want him to, but it still fucking hurts. Another strike. I dig my nails into my palms. It’s Syra’s voice in my head. You hold it, Pandora. Don’t you ever tell anyone the truth.

He turns sharply, shielding his face from me. I stay pressed against the wall, heart pounding, praying he’ll finally leave, but he stands there stiffly for a full minute, clears his throat, and walks over to his shelf of vials.

He pulls something down, and it clinks against the wooden table. “Valeriana, if you’d like to help you sleep. It doesn’t take much.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. His voice isn’t full of venom or pain, just void of emotion as mine was.

Finally, he starts toward his room, and I bound toward the potion he’d set out and take several swallows despite his warning. He stops before the shattered picture and the fissures in the wall and turns back. Stares at me intently. Puzzling. Unraveling me. Like he can see straight to my soul, to the dāemon pounding beneath my skin.

My eyes narrow. Of course, that bastard can’t believe that I, or anyone for that matter, wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with him.

Or maybe I’m too obvious.

The door finally clicks shut behind him, and I dive for a pillow. I scream into it, and the dāemon finally unleashes, ripping and spilling its cotton innards all over my lap.