Page 17

GIVE ME SOMETHING

SEBASTIAN

“ W here did you get this?” I ask.

Grace stands before me, dressed in a pair of grey pants and a shirt that must belong to Cora.

It’s too small on her, showing off a strip of her thin stomach.

It’s almost as bad as that damned skirt she’d worn.

It switches something in my brain, until I’m barely paying attention to the paper in her hand.

I need to focus, but instead, I’m studying her body like it’s a work of art. Maybe it is. Smooth skin, long legs, full lips.

Not for the first time, I wish she wasn’t a witch, wasn’t human, wasn’t essential to my plans.

She’d look absolutely divine in my bed. Blonde hair loose over my pillows, knees bent, cunt exposed.

She’d probably touch herself while I watched, instruct me to wait before touching her. As if I could resist?—

“Sebastian.” Her sharp voice jolts me out of the fantasy, and thank heavens for that. I was getting carried away, and I’m not sure I was going to stop anytime soon.

I meet her narrowed eyes .

“Were you…” she trails off, mouth curling in disgust, then horror. “Don’t you even think about touching me.”

She looks repulsed, but her pulse quickens. Most likely in fear…and yet, some carnal part of me hopes it’s arousal. Maybe, once all is said and done?—

“Don’t,” she says again. The word shakes, and I huff out a breath. Fear. That’s definitely fear.

“I am not that kind of monster,” I tell her. I look back to the paper in her hand. She’s lowered it since my gawking, but she raises it again now, extending it toward me. This time, I take it.

I stare for a prolonged moment, trying to recognize the paper. Worn, wrinkled, cheap. The human must have given it to her. Oskar wouldn’t be stupid enough to give her anything without permission. No one else has access to her, now that Beatrice proved untrustworthy.

“Are you literate?” she asks, scoffing irritably. “Apparently I should have?—”

“I am not,” I say. Her eyes pop wide, and I see the regret instantly cross her face. “You’re going to mock me for it?”

“No. I didn’t—” Her lower lip bobs, as if she’s holding back tears. Worse, a flush of blood heats her cheeks, sending her scent into the air. It’s too much, too tempting…I squeeze my eyes shut.

In my head, I could kill her so easily. I could have her body drained of blood before Oskar realized it. He’s mere steps away, blocked only by a single door.

I could do it though. I could sink my teeth into her and?—

I tighten my hands into fists and hold my breath. After a long moment, I open my eyes, taking a step to put distance between us.

“I can read, Grace,” I say finally. I force my lips into a teasing smirk, as if I haven’t just fantasized murdering her. “You shouldn’t be so judgmental.”

I don’t allow myself to look at her as I finally read it. It’s better that I don’t see the blood rushing through her cheeks, just beneath her soft skin. With my breath held, I can’t smell her, can’t imagine the way she’d taste.

I read the list. Once. Twice. Slowly, my fake smile evaporates.

Needy. Little. Witch.

“A list of demands?” I say, looking up at her. She stares right back, those blue eyes hardening, sharpening like jagged glass. I toss the list at her feet. “You seem to have forgotten?—”

“I have not forgotten anything,” she interrupts. She snatches the paper from the floor and shoves it against my chest, holding it there. “You said you would adjust your ways, so long as I tried again. This is me, saying I’ll try again. If—and only if—you keep your end of the bargain.”

“I agreed to not treat you as a prisoner,” I say. “I never promised royal privileges. My own team doesn’t get this stuff.”

“Well, you said it yourself, they’re replaceable,” she shoves the paper against my chest again, her nails scraping through my shirt.

It shouldn’t be arousing. It’s not arousing.

Grace pulls away, letting the note fall between us.

“I am not replaceable, Sebastian. So if you want me to try again, this needs to happen first.”

My entire body turns hot. I am a caged animal, and she’s threatening me with fire. The heat boils deeper, until it’s all I can feel, until the rage bubbles through my veins and into my lungs.

“Perhaps I should visit your little friend. Tessa, right?” I snap. Despite the way Grace steps back, I move forward, raising my voice with each word. I’m yelling by the end, charging forward until we reach the wall. “Let’s see if that gets you to try again!”

Grace stares at me in shock, but just when I expect her magic to explode, to tear through me as it has twice already, she closes her eyes. Her eyelashes are wet, tinged with unfallen tears. The sight sends an ache through my jaw, and I realize I’m clenching it tight enough to crack teeth.

I force myself to relax, to step back. Grace is nothing but a pawn, a necessary means to an end.

There’s no reason to lose my mind. Once she breaks the curse, I’ll send her back to the human world, or hells, even to the coven, if that’s what she wants.

For now, it doesn’t matter if I hurt her feelings, if I make her despise me.

“I’ve already warned you,” I say, lowering my voice. “If you think?—”

Grace’s eyes open, wild and violent, and she cuts me off before I can manage another word.

“You so much as hurt Tessa,” she says, “And I’ll kill myself while you think I’m sleeping. You and your fucking team will be left to break the curse with my cold, curdled blood.”

My chest heaves with each breath, lips stretching over my teeth. I don’t realize I’ve extended my fangs, that I’ve leaned closer to Grace, until her breath hitches.

“Scare me all you want, Sebastian,” she says, words trembling. “It doesn’t change the truth. You need me, and I think we both know…you need me alive .”

I press my hands against the stone, caging her between my arms. It takes every ounce of strength not to buckle right here.

To give up everything for one moment of weakness.

It’s only the fact I can’t decide what I want most—to kill her, to taste her, to fuck her senseless—that keeps me from acting .

“It’s time for you to leave,” she says. Her breath is hot on my ear, and my cock twitches.

It’s that, far more than her request, that makes me flee her room like a coward.

Only once the door is closed do I take a breath. The stale air of the manor fills my lungs, but I can still smell her . It’s as though her scent has taken residence inside me, and now I’m not sure how to get it out.

“You all right, Master?” Oskar asks.

I blink. He’s standing at his usual post, stationed directly across the hall from Grace’s room. Unlike Beatrice, he hasn’t once complained over watching her. Truthfully, I think she might remind him of his late wife.

“Fine,” I grit out. Behind me, Grace bangs on the door.

“You’re in trouble with that one,” he says. He gives me a knowing smile.

I storm down the hall, wishing he was wrong.

Grace’s List of Demands

New clothes: No offense to whoever is loaning me these clothes, but I need a new wardrobe. These outfits are hideous and don’t even fit. And no, don’t just bring me more random hand-me-downs. Let me order some online or go shopping.

Better food: The tomato soup was definitely an upgrade, but it’s not exactly a balanced diet. I need some variety. Let’s add: pasta, Chinese noodles, salad (Caesar or Cobb are my favorites), stir fried veggies, and French fries, if that’s a thing you have here.

On that note, how about something to drink other than water? Surely you guys have Coke or Sprite or even freaking lemonade. I’d kill for a vodka-cran, if I’m being honest. I might even drink milk…I’m THAT desperate.

More entertainment: I looked through the movie options on the laptop last night. Not super impressed. Can you add some more 80s/90s rom-coms to the rotation? I’m not too picky, so any will do. Oh, actually, you should add Ten Things I Hate About You . That’s a great one.

Increased freedom: I don’t like being locked up like a dog. You said you won’t treat me like a prisoner, so I want free reign of the manor. I’m going Yellow-Wallpaper insane in here.

Basic respect: You’ve already said you’ll stop being horrible, but I want basic respect on top of that. Stop yelling. Stop attacking. Stop being such a freaking asshole all the time.

Hopefully, this all sounds simple enough. Because it is simple , Sebastian. Treat me well, and we’ll give this another shot. Keep being a jerk, and I’ll go back to my sulking.

“You called, Master?” the human asks. He stands in the doorway to the library, one hand on the latch, the other fidgeting at his side. He’s blissfully transparent, so nervous his pulse is unsteady.

I look up from the table. I have a spread of texts in front of me, and after an hour of searching, I still haven’t found anything useful. Not even a passing mention of the Pruce line.

“Was it you?” I ask. I arch an eyebrow, watching the way he shifts from one foot to the other. “Did you give Grace paper? A pen?”

The minute twitch of his lip gives me all the answer I need. And still, I remain quiet, waiting for the confirmation to fall from his own lips.

“Yes,” he says. He’s trembling as he leans against the door, hiding behind it as though it’s a shield. “Was I…should I not have?”

I rise from the table, tearing a page from my notebook. As I cross the room, I study the human. He’s small, fragile.

“You do not give Grace anything,” I say. “Not a piece of paper. Not a kind word. Not a lingering glance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” he says. He hasn’t stopped trembling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know?—”

“Grace is more dangerous than she lets on,” I say. “The moment you let your guard down, she’ll tear you to shreds. Understand?”

“Yes, Master. Sorry, Master.”