Chapter 23 Everett
EVERETT
The clock indicates it’s around midnight when I step back into our room.
Our?
Yes. Our.
I’m too tired to analyze it, anyway.
The exhaustion isn’t physical though. I don’t yawn. My eyelids don’t droop.
My head’s a mess from the way Aurora got to me earlier. How I touched her, how I spoke to her.
My…
Fuck that. No. I don’t have a heart.
I have needs. I have desires.
I have her.
I lose my clothes.
Naked and wanting, I hover by our bed and watch her while she sleeps.
Beautiful. Vulnerable.
Finding pleasure in her is wrong. Getting attached to her is as disrespectful as spitting on my family’s graves.
Exhaustion gives way to hunger.
She’s naked on her side, relieved of her collar, showered and perfect.
My eyes roam over her body. Feasting on the shadows and highlights that play on her face.
Her dark eyelashes fan over her rosy cheeks. She reaches me without even being awake for it.
I don’t turn on the lamp.
Once I do, she’ll wake up. We’ll end up talking.
This little brat wasn’t done with me when I left.
Back then, I was stronger. I might give in to her now.
My goals will get blurry. Muddy. More than they already have.
A fist locks around my lungs, pushing all the air out.
Feels a lot like regret. Mostly from not being able to love her like she deserves.
My fingertips stroke her skin, the beginning of an apology. Uncertain, quiet, almost tender.
I’m caressing Mrs. Alder’s cheek. Her shoulder. Her bare arm.
Mrs. Alder.
What used to be a formality is a tether now.
Whatever barriers I’ve put between us, they’re not going to last.
In fact, they’re crumbling, and fast.
So fast that I let myself surrender to this moment.
I climb into bed, facing my sleeping wife.
Watching her. Admiring her, against all logic. Against my will.
I long for her.
Stafford was the one who called me out on it first. Two years ago, at one of those Royalty gatherings. He saw what I couldn’t.
Every year since my parents died, in the same month, Aurora would show up at the Royalty’s mansion.
And every year, she’d keep to herself. Quiet, guarded, throwing glances that were more suspicious and scornful than anything else.
I’d seen her before. But that year was the second time I really looked at her. Noticed how fucking beautiful she was, that twenty-year-old woman.
The pull to her made me want to scream.
It put a crack in my revenge plans. The lines were blurred.
I denied it. Of course I fucking did.
My friend wouldn’t let me.
“You should go talk to her,” Stafford said, low beside me, sipping that damn sparkling water. “She seems…different.”
“I will. Eventually,” I said, hardly able to tear my gaze away from her silver dress, her curves, those cold blue eyes.
That iciness in her. The underlying loathing. What brought it there?
None of it made sense.
The Clarkes gave her everything. She didn’t lose what I had.
She wasn’t allowed to be angry.
I wasn’t allowed to like her.
“When I take her against her will.” My gaze cut to Stafford’s. “I’m not her friend. I’ll never be.”
He sighed. “I didn’t mean as her friend.”
I understood damn well what he’d meant.
Still, I wasn’t going to flirt with her. Fall in love with her.
I didn’t need that.
I don’t.
My hand remains as insistent as it was a second ago. It rests on Aurora’s hip.
At night, it’s easier to let go. To give in.
I move closer to her. So close that if I shift her like that, her lips rest on my shoulder.
Her shallow breath lights my skin on fire.
There’s no denying what’s going on here. There really isn’t.
Aurora has made a home for herself inside my heart. The organ I believed was lost for good.
Resentment and longing turn me into a weak person.
Not weak enough to forgive her parents though.
Winston will suffer. In a few weeks, after this forced marriage and my future actions bring him to his knees, he will.
That’s what I need. What I want. Destroying him and his wife.
Not Aurora, not anymore.
Until I’ve dealt with the other Clarkes, I’ll keep my distance from her. It’ll cut her, but better that than leaving her with a weak excuse for a husband.
Marriage, true love, goodness—this connection to Aurora that I can no longer resist—I don’t deserve any of it. As long as my revenge on Winston isn’t over, I’m not worthy of anything.
Especially not of Aurora’s love.