Chapter 25
FOR THE THIRD time this morning, I retch into the toilet, my stomach twisting violently. My nose runs, snot dripping, as I clutch the rim, feeling like my insides might spill out through my mouth.
Leaning back against the cold tile wall, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, sweat slicking my brow. My ribs ache from the force of vomiting. Maybe I ate something bad. Or maybe I caught a stomach bug.
I exhale shakily and glance at the small teak table near the sink, where a folded note waits for me.
Garret’s handwriting. My heart clenches. He was the one behind the first note. Who would’ve thought Garret Nox was a romantic?
Smiling softly, I pick up the letter, pressing it to my chest. I love him. The forever kind. The kind that roots itself so deeply inside you, no one could ever measure up.
He’s embedded in me like vines creeping through cracks, wrapping around my heart, refusing to let go.
I unfold the letter, my pulse pounding as I read:
You have broken the darkness around my heart with a kiss.
Your warmth, the scent of your skin.
The essence that is you.
It is only you that it beats for,
When death comes knocking, I’ll answer.
I’ll surrender.
To save the Darkthorn I bleed for.
I press the paper against my chest. Still lost in my thoughts, I pad toward the kitchen, craving something light to settle my stomach.
But the moment I hear laughter, I freeze. A woman’s laughter. A sharp, ringing sound puncturing my ribs.
Then, his voice—low, amused. Laughing with her. Jealousy spikes through my veins.
Steeling myself, I step forward. Garret stands shirtless, smiling at a woman—a woman so stunning she could crush me with a glance.
Long, inky-black hair cascades down her back, skimming a slim waist and wide hips. Her lips full, glossy curve in a knowing smile.
She’s been with him. I can tell.
She lifts a delicate hand, feeding him a bite of cake from her fingers.
The intimacy of it makes my stomach churn. I no longer feel hungry. I no longer feel anything but a sick, twisting knot of realization: This isn’t new.
The way they stand too close together. The way her manicured nails brush his wrist as he takes the bite. The way her dark eyes drink him in. Playful. Too friendly.
She isn't Prey.
She isn’t like me. Her dress is designer—black, mid-thigh, expensive. She belongs to his world.
“It tasted better last time I made it,” she says, solidifying my thoughts.
Garret grimaces, chewing slowly. His expression shifts. “It tastes... off.” He shaking his head. “Not good enough.”
I clench my fist so tightly I don’t realize I’m still holding the note.
Her eyes find mine.
I look away in defeat.
I move toward the trash can, wave my hand over the sensor, and crumple the note into a ball.
Garret steps back from her, but not far enough.
“Hey...” He clears his throat. “Did you sleep well?”
The black steel lid lifts.
I force a smile. “Yeah.” I drop the note.
The lid closes.
“Hungry?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not really.”
I don’t look at him.
Instead, I turn to her. The woman he didn’t introduce me to. The woman he let feed him. “Hi,” I say smoothly. “I’m Rose.”
Her smile is perfect. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “I’m Veronica.” Then she glances at Garret.
Veronica. Even her name is beautiful. A perfect, glossy, effortless Veronica.
I glance at the cake. Garret never asked me to bake for him. Granted, I don’t know my way around a kitchen. But I would have tried.
I would have learned. I would have done anything for him—if only he had asked.
But he asked her.
He was here with her while I was upstairs, puking my guts out. He didn’t even know.
The tension thickens. It smothers me like a heavy fog. I know Garret has a past. And I know mine isn’t pure. But watching him parade it in front of me—or worse, knowing he might still be fucking her, rips something apart inside me.
We never talked about what we are to each other. I was stupid to think I was special. Garret can have whoever he wants. Why would he waste his time with me?
A wave of nausea rolls through me. My hands turn clammy. My stomach lurches. I need to get out of here.
Garret grabs a plate of strawberries. “You sure?” he asks.
Veronica smiles and plucks one from the plate. “Aww…you remembered?” she says, softly.
Acid burns my throat.
“I try,” he says, as if I’m not even in the room.
I swallow hard and clear my throat. “I’ll leave you two to finish.”
Veronica hesitates. “Oh, I can go?—”
“No, stay.” I force my best fake smile. “He invited you.” I lie through my teeth. “I have a paper due. You can keep him company.” I turn away before my voice cracks.
“Rose?” Garret calls.
I pause. I don’t turn around.
Tears silently streak down my cheeks. “Yeah?”
His voice is soft. “Call me if you need help.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah. Of course.”
I make it to the bedroom, shaking. I grab my black book-bag—the same one I came here with. The one thing that still belongs to me. Then I start collecting my things. The ones I didn’t throw away.
A reminder of who I was before him.