Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
RAVEN
I stand frozen at the top of the stairs, my feet rooted to the cold wooden floor. My pulse is pounding in my ears as I stare down at the mess below. Scattered across the entryway are shards of glass that glitter under the light from the chandeliers like broken stars. Amongst them, gorgeous, blood-red roses lay dying.
And over it all, like avenging God, he stands.
His chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides. His face is a mask of fury, his eyes like embers that burn right through me when they lock onto mine. My heart stutters, an involuntary rush of fear coursing through me. I’ve seen him angry before, but this … this is different.
I grip the banister to steady myself. I don’t dare move, my mind racing to make sense of the scene below. Why would he destroy those beautiful roses?
“Is something wrong?” I call down, my voice thin, tentative.
He doesn’t answer immediately, his jaw working as he glares up at me. The silence stretches. Then, without a word, he begins closing the distance between us, each step slow and deliberate. His anger fills the space between us, making it hard to breathe.
By the time he reaches me, my nerves are shot to pieces, though I force myself to stand my ground. He stops just a step away, his height and intensity overwhelming me.
“Follow me,” he says, his voice low and cold.
I hesitate, searching his face for a hint of something—anything—that might explain what’s happening. But all I see is black, barely controlled fury. Reluctantly, I trail behind him when he turns and heads down the hall toward the library.
The library is quiet, the heavy wooden door silent as I shut it behind me. He strides to the window, and with his back to me, he stares out over the estate. The lake glistens in the fading sunlight, and the orchard beyond it is bathed in the soft golden glow of the setting sun. It’s breathtakingly serene, a stark contrast to the storm raging in this room.
I hover near the door, unsure what to do, what to say. The silence is unbearable, stretching out like a taut wire ready to snap.
“Earl?” I venture cautiously. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did the roses … fall?”
He turns then, slowly, and the look in his eyes makes my stomach twist. There’s no softness there, no trace of the man a part of me still swears I know. His gaze is piercing, and it pins me in place.
“Did you leave them out there for me to see?” he asks, his tone venomous. “Were you trying to send a message?”
I blink, confused. “What? What are you talking about?” I stop, shaking my head. “I don’t understand. Why would I do that?”
His eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. “Don’t play dumb, Raven. Was this some kind of stunt? Something to irritate me?”
I feel the blood drain from my face, the accusation cutting deeper than I thought possible. “Irritate you? Earl, I have no idea what you’re talking about!” My voice rises, tinged with desperation. “Those roses—I didn’t send them!”
“You didn’t send them?” he interrupts, his laugh bitter, humorless. “Do you take me for a fool, Raven? I never took you for a liar.”
I take a step back, my hands trembling. “I’m not lying,” I whisper, my throat tight. “Why would I lie about this?”
His gaze bores into me, searching for something I can’t give him. His mistrust is crushing and it leaves me gasping for air.
“I can’t take it anymore. “Earl,” I say, my voice breaking, “just tell me what’s going on. Please.”
He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as he looks away, his jaw tight. “They’re from Charles,” he mutters finally, the name like poison on his tongue. “He sent them to you. Are you really trying to tell me that you’re unaware? That you weren’t expecting them? That you didn’t see the card? That you’re not still talking to him?”
I’m taken aback by his accusations, his relentless questions that jab at me like daggers. My nails bite into my palms as I struggle to maintain some semblance of composure. “No to all of them, Earl.”
His frown deepens, his jaw tightening until I can see the pulse tick furiously at his temple. “Are you playing with me?” he snaps, his voice sharp and cutting.
I shake my head. “I don’t know who the hell would think of sending me roses when I’m already—” My words falter, catching in my throat like a shard of glass.
His face twists, a bitter smirk curling at his lips as he cuts in. “What?” he sneers. “Married to me? Has commitment ever stopped you before? From doing whatever you want?”
I can’t respond. My mouth opens, but no sound escapes. His words hit harder than I expected, slicing through any defenses I thought I had left. The man who once made me feel like I was the only girl in the world now stands before me and every syllable he utters makes me feel smaller and smaller, as if I could disappear under the weight of his disdain.
“I … I need to leave,” I say, my voice barely audible. I turn on my heel, heading for the door, my heart pounding in my chest. Tears threaten to spill over, but I will myself to hold them back. I won’t cry in front of him. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“I’m not finished with you. Don’t you dare take another step,” he says, his voice cold and commanding.
But I don’t stop, my only focus is on escaping, not letting him see me cry, but just as I reach for the handle, the door slams shut with a force that makes my heart leap into my throat. The sound reverberates through the room.
Before I can react, he spins me around and catches both my arms. His strength overwhelms mine with ease as he holds me against the door. I meet his eyes, dark and blazing with emotions I can’t decipher—anger, frustration, something deeper, something that terrifies me.
I struggle against him, but it’s futile. His grip doesn’t loosen, and I’m trapped, caught between the door and the storm of emotions radiating off him. All I can hear is the erratic pounding of my own heart.
The sharp rise and fall of my chest pressing against his hardness. His eyes bore into mine, dark and unrelenting, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body, suffocating me further.
“Now what?” I finally bite out, my voice trembling with defiance. “Is this it? Do you want to hurt me? Hit me? What?”
His lips twitch into a bitter smile, and it’s the most chilling thing I’ve ever seen. “Why would I damage something I’ve already paid for?” he murmurs, his tone low and dangerous, sending a shiver straight down my spine. “There are other ways to make you sorry if you betray me again. So, here’s your last warning—stop talking to Charles.”
“I’m not talking to him!” I yell. Now I’m angry too.
“You better not be lying to me, Raven. I’m not seventeen and stupidly in love anymore. I know who you are. I know what you are. And I’ve accepted it.” He leans in closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “But for your own sake, don’t make the mistake of underestimating me. You have no idea what I’ll do if you betray me again.”
Betray him? The word rattles around in my mind, an unwelcome echo. My throat tightens, and I search his face, desperate for answers. “Betray you again?” I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible. “What are you even talking about? I’ve never?—”
“Shut up,” he growls, cutting me off before I can finish.
Then his hand moves to my chin, his fingers firm as they tilt my face up to his. Before I can react, his lips crush mine, but it’s not a kiss. It’s an invasion, hard and bruising and filled with anger. My hands come up to push him away, to resist, but the moment his tongue brushes against mine, I feel something deep inside me unravel.
The taste of him— his heat, his fury—sinks into me, winding its way down my throat and settling in my belly like a fire I can’t extinguish. My knees feel like jelly and my legs buckle beneath me, and I cling frantically to him, my hands fisting in his shirt as though I’ll fall apart if I let go.
The press of his body against mine is pure pleasure. Every inch of him, solid and unyielding, traps me against the door, his heat searing through the thin fabric of my dress. I can’t breathe. All I want is him, at this moment, even though it terrifies me.
His lips move over mine, unrelenting, demanding, and I meet his intensity with my own, my tears breaking free and rolling down my cheeks as the tension in me crumbles. I hate him for making me feel this way. For turning me into this shaking, vulnerable mess.
And yet, I love it.
Then I hate myself for loving it.
When he finally pulls back, I gasp for air, my chest heaving as I look up at him, my vision blurred with unshed tears. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. It sends a shiver of indescribable longing through me.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t think I can say anything.