Chapter 39 Svenn #2
I just had to throw out that offer because I know I’ll be counting every tortuous second until I see her tomorrow. Either that or I’ll resort to stalking her again tonight.
Rhianelle seems intrigued and equally baffled by my proposal. She searches my face with that piercing look.
“Come with me then,” she says. A soft smile graces her lips, and my heart is lighter.
She fumbles for her crystal on the granite floor, rubbing it in between her palms. The damn thing is taking its sweet time to glow with her warmth.
“Wait. Don’t you have to take anything from your room?” she asks before leading the way.
You’re the only thing keeping me here in this castle, in this world.
“No.”
There is no way of telling if Rhianelle is in pain from the old injury over her ankle during daylight.
But her awkward gait is more obvious now when she can’t see clearly in the dark.
She is so small and vulnerable. I let out a long heave as I stare down at her in the dark.
This limping, willing prey stands a zero chance against me.
I can eat her alive right now with little resistance.
Instead of fulfilling my darker urges, I slide one hand around her waist to keep her steady. She doesn’t complain, clutching my arm desperately for balance.
“Sorry about this.” There’s a little embarrassment somewhere in her voice. She’s not used to asking people for help.
Weirdly, this is reminiscent of the first time I met her in the dungeon, fumbling together in the dark. My hand drops from her waist the moment we enter through her door. Rhianelle’s room is six times bigger than mine. Fucking Eyepatch must have given me the servant’s quarters.
The girl tilts her head up to look at me. “Do you mind the lights? I have some work to finish.”
I give her a slow shake of my head.
She taps a pile of books on the long table. “Lord Wesley left me these from his library if you’d like to read them.”
I slide into the chair at the opposite end, picking up a random tome in my hand. I like watching her doing her own little thing.
I’m certain as queen they would bring her food at any hour should she request it. But here she is munching stale bread and cold soup. She catches me staring and a small smile curves her lips.
Her strange ears twitch at the scratching of branches in the wind. I resist the urge to reach out and play with them.
“The storm will be over soon,” she says to comfort me. I can tell she’s the one who’s scared of the howling sound.
“I’m sure it will.”
Seeing her exhausted and cold settles an unpleasant feeling in my chest.
I rise to pick the quilt from the bed and warm it with one of my gifts for her.
“Your teeth are chattering. It’s loud,” I tell her when I settle it over her shoulders. I heat her bowl of food as well.
Rhianelle is watching everything with awe. Her eyes crinkle with appreciation. “Thank you, Svenn.”
She reaches for the spoon and my hand jerks instinctively. Her sudden movement triggers another anxious reflex from me.
“I’m sorry for that,” she mutters, lowering her head. The hurt in her face makes me want to stab myself.
I can’t get rid of my nerves in mere days. It’s been entrenched in me over hundreds of years by Lilith and the past curse bearers. The witch had broken some kind of cord in me.
“It’s not you,” I quickly tell her. It’s important to me that she knows that.
“I understand,” she says, but I hear the hurt bleeding in her voice.
I want to say something pleasing to her to make her smile again. I remember the look on her face when I told her she was a good girl. There’s no way in hell I can randomly insert that in a conversation.
“You did good with the intoxicated orc,” I whisper low.
Her ears perk and I bite back a smile. Rhianelle likes to be praised.
“Your aim needs work though.” The words escape me before I can reel them back.
Real smooth, my inner beast frowns.
She mutters something about doing better next time and we remain in comfortable silence for a while. Those sweet doe’s eyes turn contemplative as she focuses on the papers in front of her.
I shut my eyelids and my mind conjures a strange vision; A cold rainy night no different from this one, Rhianelle is reading a book, safely tucked underneath my arm. A peaceful and warm sensation spreads across my chest.
I kill the picture almost immediately.
What is she doing in my future? Why do I even have a future? I shouldn’t allow myself such foolish thoughts. Her words and promises are getting to me.
Another vision of us slides into my mind. Rhianelle frowning at her over burnt cake at her bakery, I’m planting a kiss on her ear to calm her. A fierce longing overtakes me, and I can hardly breathe.
I made a mockery out of that dream. The ocean of sorrow that floods her eyes after the horrible things I say keeps on replaying in my head, ripping me apart.
“Nel. I apologize for—”
The words falter as I listen to her soft exhale. She has fallen asleep on the table.
Instead of rousing her, I gather her into my arms carefully.
An odd satisfaction fills me as I hold her close, basking in her warmth.
I place her gently on the soft mattress.
Her nightgown slides, teasing the smooth skin of her thigh.
I clench my fist to fight the desire to touch her.
The bones in my hand protest when I almost fracture them.
She shivers a little and I wish I had warmed the bed beforehand. I pull the blanket over her body wondering what the hell I’m doing the entire time. I even go the extra length of wiping the ink off her face with a warm cloth.
The beasts that dwell inside of me become collectively content. I guess they’re pleased that I’m looking after the girl. It’s truly a wonder how she manages to get all of them to adore her. I settle at the edge of the bed, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart.
Strands of her silver hair fall forward, and I smooth them. A sudden ache grips me over how full of life and perfect she is. Rhianelle is so bright and good she’s practically radiating like a star. I am made from monsters that rise from the blackest pits of hell.
Something like me will only taint her pure heart. I can’t do this to her. But that’s the thing about darkness, it’s greedy, it’s selfish. And it will always crave the light.
“Goodnight, Svenn,” she mutters in her sleep.
If there is a god or seventy-seven of them, I pray the curse will never regain its strength. Please save this girl.
“Goodnight, Rhianelle.”