Chapter 37 #2
“That’s not what I meant.” He sighs. “It doesn’t matter anyway. This invitation is for Maddox, not the King. You and I can not attend an event together. It wouldn’t make sense.”
I stare at him. At the unmasked face I thought I was finally starting to know. The man who helped me after my panic attack at the ascension. The man who gave me a family heirloom, and held me through the longest night, who made me feel so good while he fucked me, making my body his.
That man feels very far away right now.
“You’re embarrassed by me,” I whisper. “I’m good enough for you to fuck behind these stone walls, but nothing else.”
His jaw flexes. “That’s not what I said.”
“You don’t want me there because you think I’ll embarrass you again. Because Remy acts weird around me. Because he’s horrified you’re attached to someone like me.”
Timothy’s eyes darken. “Remington’s issues with you go back further than our marriage, Baroness.”
The use of my title, instead of my name, stings.
“What about your ex?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “Will she be there? You never talk about Remy’s mother.”
“Of course not!” The snap in his voice is sudden. His temper flares–rare, bright, gone in a heartbeat. “This has nothing to do with my son or his mother. This has everything to do with you not being able to regulate yourself in public!”
The words hit harder than any slap, but he’s not finished.
“There are roles in the House of Night. And you’re here to fulfill them. Attending this event is not one of them.” Darkness clouds those green eyes. “You are here to submit to my needs and the needs of your Barons, that’s it. That’s all.”
“But–”
“Don’t push me, Daughter.” His eyes dart to the wardrobe, to the cage nestled behind its wooden exterior. “Do not make me get you back in line.”
He turns away first, dismissive, tearing the invitation into two and tossing it on the floor. I watch him walk out, the door closing behind him hard enough to rattle the windows.
Time stills, frozen much like I am, the invitation shredded on the floor.
A million scenarios flood my head, wondering where he’s going and what he’ll do.
Go back to the hotel? To Noir Sanctum? Will he find another woman–someone composed, someone who doesn’t shatter in public?
Does he regret letting me see his face? Does he regret me?
I feel stupid. Small. Insecure in a way I haven’t since the first days I was here, when every situation felt like a test I was failing. The negative spiral rushes back—loud, familiar.
I’m not enough.
Never was.
Never will be.
My chest tightens. I turn and run, down the hall away from the room that smells like him, back to the bedroom I share with the Barons. I slam the door behind me and sink onto the edge of the bed.
Breathe, Arianette. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I press my palms to my thighs, hard, grounding myself in the bite of my nails through the fabric. I close my eyes.
Breathe.
I’m not spiraling. Not yet.
But the room feels too big. Too quiet, because he doesn’t come back, not even to explain. Not even to fight or punish. I curl my arms around my knees and wait for the ache in my chest to ease.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, but I look up when the door opens with a soft creak. Hunter steps inside, Ares padding in right behind, his body giving a good shake nose to tail.
“Christ, it’s cold outside. Which means Ares needed to take forever to handle his business.
” Hunter shrugs out of his coat, hanging it on the hook by the door, and rubs his hands together.
“DK went over to check on the kitten in the dormitory. Said he’d be back soon.
” His eyes land on me–curled on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up.
His frown is immediate. “Do you want to go over? We can walk back together.”
I don’t answer right away. My hands are in my lap, fingers twisting together so hard my knuckles ache. I can’t stop moving–small, restless circles, like if I sit still the thoughts will catch up and swallow me whole.
“Hey.” Hunter steps closer, voice dropping softer. “Something wrong?”
“I embarrassed him.”
A line creases his forehead. “Embarrassed who?”
“Timothy. At the ascension.” The words spill out before I can catch them–fast and jagged, tumbling over each other like they’ve been waiting behind my teeth for hours.
“He’s afraid I’m the crazy girl they found by the creek.
The girl who killed Armand. Who set my uncle’s house on fire.
” I look at Hunter, his face blurred by tears.
“You all think I’m going to crack again.
Fall apart in the middle of a party and ruin everything.
Timothy thinks it. You think it. Even Damon probably does, even if he won’t say it. ”
Hunter crouches in front of me so we’re eye-level. Ares drops to the floor beside him, head resting on my knee.
“That’s not true,” Hunter says quietly. Firmly. “None of that is true. First of all, he doesn’t even know you killed Armand, so I’d stop saying that.”
“See?” I laugh–short, bitter, more breath than sound. “You think the same.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why else won’t you fuck me?”
The question hangs there, raw and ugly. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away.
“You know why,” he says.
I shake my head, rocking harder now. “You’re just like him.
Pretending like things aren’t about me when they are about me.
You all act like it’s for my own good, like you’re protecting me, but it’s really because you don’t trust me to handle it.
You think I’m scared of pain? I can take whatever you give me, Hunter.
I can take whatever he gives me. You all still think I’m weak.
Or na?ve. Or a child. I’m none of those things. ”
My voice cracks on the last word. I hate it–hate how small it makes me sound. But I can’t stop. The words keep coming–faster.
“I survived Strong Manor, being kidnapped and dying. I survived Armand and the Hunt. My time in the cage, when everyone looked at me like I was broken glass waiting to cut someone. I’m still here.
But you look at me like I’m going to shatter if you push too hard.
Like one wrong move and I’ll be back in my mind, the place where I can barely find myself. But I won’t. I can’t.”
Hunter stays crouched, hands loose between his knees. He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t flinch. Just listens while I unravel, and when I finally run out of breath, the room is too quiet. Just the crackle of the fire in the other room and the soft huff of Ares breathing against my leg.
Hunter exhales slowly through his nose. “I don’t think you’re weak,” he says. “I don’t think you’re na?ve. And I sure as hell don’t think you’re a child.”
“Then what?” My voice is barely above a whisper now. “Why won’t you claim me like the others?”
He looks at me for a long moment–really looks.
The warmth is still there in his eyes, but it’s tangled with something heavier.
Something that’s been there since the beginning.
“I’m not pretending it’s not about you,” he says.
“It’s all about you. Every hesitation. Every time I stop short.
It’s because I want you so fucking much that it scares me.
And I’m terrified that if I let go of that last piece of control, I’ll hurt you.
Not because you can’t take it. Because I couldn’t live with myself if I did. ”
My throat closes. I blink hard, but the tears come anyway–hot, silent, sliding down my cheeks. Hunter doesn’t wipe them away–he doesn’t touch me at all.
“If you were any other girl, I wouldn’t have thought twice, do you understand that?” he asks. “Any other girl would be tied to this bed, covered in cigarette burns and bruises. She’d be begging for her life, not begging for more.”
I nod, wrapping my brain around that. “I understand.”
“I’m not him,” he says. “I’m not walking away. I’m right here. And when I’m ready–when we’re both ready–I’ll show you exactly how much I trust you to take everything I have to give.”
Ares nudges my knee with his nose, a soft whine in his throat.
I don’t say anything else, I’m too tired, physically and emotionally.
The fight has drained out of me, leaving something fragile and aching in its place.
Hunter doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t try to close the space between us.
But he doesn’t move away either. The quiet stretches, thick and steady.
Ares settles at my feet, and both of our breathing evens out.
My eyes flutter shut, and I let sleep take over. Even without Hunter’s touch, I can feel him there–solid and patient–as sleep finally pulls me under.