Chapter 28
twenty-eight
RHYS
In the end, I have to know.
The ancient clock in the hallway ticks in time with my footsteps. I pace them that way on purpose, hoping to sneak up on the unsuspecting omega. Loving the idea of scaring her almost as much as I love the thought of seeing her face again.
Goddamn it.
God fucking damn it.
What is happening to me?
I hadn’t picked up a bow in nearly a decade… and last night it was all I could do to hold on while years of pent-up emotion poured out of me, into the instrument I used to love.
But it didn’t hurt.
It. Didn’t. Hurt.
So I kept going. Playing harder, faster. Then softer, and with more intent. Until night bled into morning and the bright light burnished gold for afternoon.
Now it’s nearly evening.
And I have to know.
Was it her? Did this random omega unlock the pieces of myself I’d hidden away? Or was it just having some form of sex after so long without it?
I find the door to her bedroom ajar. An ominous blend of rage and interest rolls through me, along with a very specific type of certainty.
Almost… instinct.
The library.
It feels empty, when I stride in. And, of course, I can’t pick up her scent. That simple, bitter truth puts a snarl in my voice. “Viper! Who the fuck said you could be in my library?”
Instead of a fearful squeak or a whine, I hear rustling pages and a sigh. The noises draw me across the round, second-story landing. Over to the travel section of my stores.
Sure enough, there’s the little viper. In her usual black—fishnets and shorts, today—coiled around a pile of books about Europe. Sharp green eyes snap up to mine, some blend of irritation and wariness.
“Can I help you?” she demands.
The sight of her is enough to make my blood roar. And I hate it. I hate her.
Am I insane? There’s no way this bitch is the reason I’ve suddenly been able to play again. It has to be something else.
Baring my teeth, I growl, “Yeah. Get the fuck out.”
Briar trembles slightly, but plays it off as a twirl of the dark, loose braid hanging over her shoulder. “No can do.” She shrugs, turning back to the borrowed book in her lap. “Some talentless lunatic won’t stop murdering violins on that side of the house.”
I ignore the bolt of amusement that sticks in my throat, willfully focusing on the outrage bubbling under my lungs. “Fuck you,” I spit.
Briar exhales, casting me another exasperated glower. “Well you could have, venom, but you never showed up.”
Christ, am I holding a laugh in my lungs? I truly am losing my shit.
Tracing her unbothered expression, noting all of the delicate features that form her unholy beauty… A dark realization hits. “You’re really not afraid of me, huh?”
Briar snorts, flipping another page. “Please, venom.” Her slicing stare stabs mine. “There are way worse things to be afraid of than you.”
The words—so calm and matter-of-fact—are clearly born of experience. My rage cools a bit as my mind spins, trying to imagine what would put such a somber, unimpressed look on her face.
I hate it almost as much as I loathe her. So I lift my foot and tap the toe of my loafer against her porcelain cheek.
Green flames burn in her eyes as she jerks back. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners, cretin?”
A black mood rolls over whatever humor I felt. “She couldn’t, really, considering she left me here,” I snap in reply. “Coggins was basically my mother after that.”
I’m not sure why I expect sympathy, but I don’t get any. Instead, Briar huffs. “Well, my mom was a test tube. So.”
God, does she have to be so funny? This time, a rusty laugh creaks in my throat before I can stop it. “Okay, viper. You win.”
Her eyes swing up to my face, slowly absorbing my reluctant amusement. “Can I ask you something?”
I almost snort. “Sure, what the hell?”
A spark of bemusement touches her pretty gaze. She tilts her head. “Do you hate me specifically? Or are you always this charming?”