Chapter 14 August
August
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She just had to be the center of attention. Had to make everyone be just as infatuated as I am with her. Of course everyone was looking at her! You had to be blind to not notice Winnie.
Mine.
My Winnie.
The only thing in this cursed world that could ever make me feel anything again—and the only one cruel enough to use it against me.
I paced the room. My hands were fists at my sides. I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t fucking breathe.
I was supposed to feel satisfied. I’d won, hadn’t I? She was mine. Bound to me by every dark vow that could be sworn under fire and blood. So why did I feel like I’d just carved out my own heart and handed it to her?
I wanted to tear something apart. I wanted to find the vampire she burned and set him on fire all over again just to see if she’d flinch. Just to see if she’d care.
I hated her. I wanted her. I wanted to bite her and rip her open and pull her close and make her beg. I wanted to drag her into the dark and drown in her until there was nothing left of me.
That was what she did to me.
And I had no one to blame but myself.
I backed her into a corner. Put her on display. Threw her into a pit of monsters and waited for her to bleed—because I knew she’d break.
For what? To chain myself to her more tightly? When I was already hanging on by a thread every time she breathed in my direction? It was fine. I could keep my distance even if I’m in the room with her at all times.
Ha!
What a fucking joke.
I had shackled myself to the only person in this world who could destroy me—and then dared her to do it.
She turned to me again and I could see the wheels turning behind those emerald eyes. What did she see when she looked at me right now? Was I holding it together? Did I look at her like she meant nothing to me? Gods, I hoped so.
“Is that why you said those things to me before the wedding?”
I flinched. Just slightly. Just enough that I prayed she didn’t notice. I couldn’t remember what I’d said—there were too many voices, too many memories all crashing at once.
I feel nothing—Fuck the whole lot of them.
Fuck no, I didn’t mean that! I could barely stand them looking at her. If someone tried to touch her like that, I’d rip their throat out.
“No. I meant them.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. I didn’t know how much power she still held from killing that vampire, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she unleashed it on me. In fact, I kind of hoped she did.
But instead, she straightened.
“I need to get out of this dress.”
She turned, presenting the laced back to me, and waited.
Gods alive!
I hesitated. The space between us pulsed like a wound. I didn’t trust myself to touch her right now, but I stepped forward anyway. My fingers found the ties at her back, trembling with restraint. The fabric resisted me, as if it knew what would happen if it fell too fast.
My knuckles brushed the curve of her spine. My throat burned with the scent of her, and I nearly choked on the desire clawing its way up from my chest.
I wanted to sink my teeth into her shoulder. To claim her again in the only way I understood. To hear her moan my name until it was the only word left in the world.
I wanted her to scream, but not in anger. But I’d take the anger too.
She turned to face me again, shrugged her sleeves down, and let the gown fall. She stood there, bare, unflinching, eyes locked on mine as if daring me to look away.
I didn’t have to look down to know exactly what she looked like. It was engraved in my mind. I saw the curve of her breasts, the dips in her hips, and the few freckles that led to her navel every time I closed my eyes.
She glanced at me with hooded eyes. I held my breath, begging to the gods that I wouldn’t smell her scent of jasmine that would be my undoing making me forget the little restraint I was trying to hold on to.
She stepped forward until her breasts nearly touched me, her voice soft and lethal.“Goodnight, husband.”
Gods help me. What have I done?
* * *
She slept with her back to me.
I wasn’t able to sleep long.
At some point in the early hours—before the castle had begun to stir, before the candles outside our door flickered back to life—I’d woken up gasping for air, throat burning like fire, like I was dying all over again.
The dream had been too familiar. Too real.
I kneeled, bound in magical chains on the ground.
Then, she reached for it—no, she ripped it from me.
Drained the power through my veins like it belonged to her.
Fire exploded from within, consuming me from the inside out.
My skin split, blistered, melted. I tried to scream, but the air burned in my lungs.
She didn’t flinch.
She stood over me with her hand still raised, eyes burning with power. She burned me alive, using my own magic to do it.
I woke with the scent of ash still in my nose, the phantom pain of seared flesh clinging to my bones. My skin still itched, like the flames had left a residue under my flesh. I flexed my fingers just to feel them move.
But when I opened my eyes, I was back in this cursed bed, drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around my legs. And she was still asleep.
I hadn’t woken her.
Somehow, I’d kept the scream buried in my throat, where it lived now like a shard of glass.
The quiet was a lie. It pressed against my temples like a vice. The castle hadn’t woken yet, but my mind hadn’t stopped screaming. Not since she turned her back on me.
I wished I had woken her. Maybe then I wouldn’t be lying here, watching her sleep like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t torn the ground out from under me.
The image of her beneath me burned in my mind—her hands wrapped around me just before she did the one thing I begged her not to. I wanted to hate her. I should hate her.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. So I watched her instead.
The castle was still cast in shadow, though it had to be well into the afternoon. The servants had just begun to stir beyond the chamber door, the distant scrape of footsteps and clink of dishes too faint for human ears. But I heard it all.
I lay still, watching the steady rise and fall of her breath. Her hair fanned around her like ink across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep—young, almost innocent. Vulnerable.
I hated how peaceful she looked, and yet I couldn’t look away.
Part of me still wanted to reach for her. To brush a strand of hair behind her ear. To pull her into me and pretend—just for a moment—that we were still something worth saving.
But another part of me burned with the memory of what she’d done.
She left me. Chose this path. Forced the crown onto my head like it was some kind of salvation. And now she slept like none of it mattered.
My Winnie. My wife.
I rolled onto my back and dragged a hand down my face. If she woke now, I didn’t know what she’d see. And I didn’t know what I wanted her to see.
Had I gone too far yesterday? Had I broken something between us that couldn’t be put back together?
No, it had to be done. She had to hate me. She had to let go.
Because no matter how hard I tried to stop it, I still wanted her.
And I didn’t know if I could survive wanting her again.
Yet even now, I kept pulling her in. Marrying her. Binding her to me with blood and duty. Tricking her into exposing herself. Forcing her closer under the guise of protection. It was a noose I’d tied for both of us.
I was fucking insane.
She stirred.
A sharp inhale. A twitch of her fingers. Then a sound—soft, broken—slipped from her lips. A sound I’d never heard from her before. She bolted upright, hair wild, chest heaving like she’d clawed her way out of drowning.
Good for her for sleeping longer than I had.
I wondered what I did to her in her dream this time.
Her breathing slowed. Then her eyes found mine. Those eyes—damn them—still had the power to twist something sharp in my chest. Neither of us spoke. Then her gaze dropped. Just for a second. But I saw the shift. The heat behind it. She’d noticed I wasn’t wearing a shirt.
The air between us stretched tight like a drawn bow. Before anything else could be said—or done—I threw off the covers and stood.
“I’ll send word for Jane,” I said, tone clipped and flat. “We’re going to town to make the decree.”
“We’re going to do it? I thought you’d send word or something.”
I turned, just enough for her to see the edge of my expression. “Would you believe me if I said I had someone do it?”
“No.”
I nodded once. “This way you’ll know it’s done. And we can continue our work.”
I didn’t wait for her to answer. I walked to the wardrobe and yanked it open like it had insulted me, focusing on anything but the burn of her eyes on my back.
She tried to move quietly, but I heard her steps on the floor, soft and deliberate. My senses picked up everything—the shift of her weight, the rhythm of her heartbeat.
For a moment, I saw myself turning. Grabbing her, slamming her against the wardrobe just to feel her gasp. Just to feel something break. I blinked, and the vision passed. Control. I still had control.
I turned just as she stopped behind me. “What?”
She straightened. Close. Too close.
I thought this would be easier. But her scent ruined me. Sweet and infuriating. No matter how many reasons I gave myself to stay away, my body betrayed me.
I couldn’t let her pull me under again.
“Your eyes.”
I looked across the room to the small mirror at the dressing table to see red eyes looking back at me.
Closing my eyes, I calmed my hunger to bring back the human eyes I fought to wear. It was growing harder by the day. Having her near me without tasting her was torture, but I wouldn’t let that happen again.
I’d starve before I gave her that control.