34. CHAPTER 31 #3
I tried to look away, but his fingers caught my jaw, guiding my eyes back to his.
“Repeat yourself, wife.”
My pulse hammered so loudly I was afraid my heart would burst. His body was a shadow towering over me, heat rolling off him in waves—anger, hurt, possession, all tangled together, all evident in his dark gaze.
I couldn’t speak. The air in my lungs had been replaced by the scent of him, thick and heady. He was waiting for me to break, for the “I hate you” to crumble into a plea, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how easily he still unmade me.
His voice dropped to a whisper. A dangerous, intimate whisper.
“What is it that you hate so much about me?”
I didn’t answer. I stared into the storm of his eyes, searching for the man from last night. He was still in there, buried under layers of the Kade dynasty and hospital-room trauma, but he was unreachable. I hated that I was still looking for him. I hated that I cared enough to search.
“Tell me,” He insisted.I kept my silence.
His next words gutted me. They weren't shouted; they were whispered with the weight of a broken heart, or what it would physically look like.
“You whisper his name in your sleep,” he murmured. “You still love him, don’t you?”
I looked at him, and the raw, starving ache in his eyes made my stomach flip. It was the look of a man waiting for me to confirm his worst fear.
“No.” The word flew out instantly, instinctively, like a reflex. “No. I don’t. I—”
I couldn’t finish. My voice died in my throat, because the truth was humiliating.
I’d made up my mind to move on from Yves when I finally accepted my fate as Orion’s wife.
We’d only dated for four months, which was barely enough time to learn the shape of a person’s handwriting, let alone their heart.
But Yves was so patient and when he told me he loved me, I believed him, even though I wasn’t there yet.
I’d convinced myself he was nice enough, that something would eventually grow.
Then I met my husband, and everything inside me realigned, and complicated itself beyond recognition.
Orion waited for me to continue. I couldn’t.
The silence stretched between us, thick with the things we were both too proud to say.
His thumb remained at my jaw, a searing brand of heat, but his eyes were searching mine for a lie I couldn't give him.
I wanted to tell him it was him—it was always him—but the look of disappointment in his eyes made me feel like if I spoke, we would both move from breaking to officially broken.
He exhaled slowly, the sound rough and labored. His grip on my jaw didn't loosen, but it changed. It felt less commanding, and more like he was barely holding on.
“Everything I’ve done is to protect you. To make you happy. Sending him away, giving him the chance to live…that is better than what your father and brothers would have done. I saved his life.” His voice cracked, a tiny weakness. “I did it for you.”
My breath snagged.
“But still you hate me,” he breathed. “You should have seen his parents take the money. The offer. He didn’t even fight for you, Léa. He wasn’t willing to die for you.”
A bitter, broken laugh escaped him.
“But I would.” He swallowed hard. “I would lay my life down to protect you…if it came to that.”
I froze. Every part of me froze. The hatred I’d breathed only moments ago felt suddenly flimsy and hollow. The lie I’d told to protect myself from the sheer scale of his obsession. How could I hate a man who looked at me as though nothing else existed?
How could I stay behind my walls when he was offering to be the shield that guarded them?
The silence was deafening, filled only by the ragged sound of his breathing and the terrifying honesty of his gaze.
Then he stepped away. Without looking back, he walked toward the door.
“Orion—” I whispered.
He didn’t slow.
“I have to go see my father,” he said, voice clipped and terrifyingly chill.
He opened the door, disappeared down the hall.
The silence left behind closed in, feeling heavier than his anger.
I stood there pinned to the wall long after he’d left, my heartbeat a frantic, uneven mess. The air still smelled like him, and that made the pain in my chest worse.
I would lay my life down to protect you if it came to that.
Why did that hurt more than anything else he said?
I didn’t want this fight. It wasn't my intention to wound him like this. I just… wanted answers. Closure. I wanted honesty from him.
The day had unraveled in the worst possible way, and whatever fragile thing had started forming between us was now in pieces.
Watching him walking away had twisted my insides painfully, as if he hadn't just left the room, but had taken the only light I had left with him.
I slid down the wall slowly, pressing my palms to my face.
Why did this man—my husband, my stranger, my undoing—have the power to unravel me with nothing more than a look? And why did the thought of losing him, even for a moment, feel unbearable?
My palm came up damp when I pulled it from my face.
Despite everything, I still wanted to run after him.