Chapter 5
Braxton
My fingers crumple the parchment in my hand before I throw it back onto my desk in a rumpled heap.
How dare that little bitch write to me. As if she hasn’t taken enough from me.
As if the countdown that has been looming over my head for centuries isn’t enough for her masochistic heart.
Now she’s going to disturb one of the small bits of peace I’m able to hold onto.
My jaw is tight and my nerves are fried when I hear the doors to my study burst open with a loud crack, followed by the delicious scent of a spring morning in bloom.
My wildflower. I know it’s Azalea fuming in the doorway before I turn to look at her.
And Sky’s Divine, she is breathtaking, even when she stares at me with murder in her eyes.
I make no attempt to keep my gaze from dipping down to admire the perfect curvature of her tits as she crosses her arms over her chest. Part of me can’t help but wonder if she’s doing it on purpose to push them up further and taunt me, as if that cinched corset hugging and squeezing every one of her curves in a way I wish I could wasn’t distracting enough.
When I finally drag my eyes up to her face, her nose and brows are scrunched in a way that conveys both repulsion and rage.
Honestly, I think it’s cute how she pretends that she doesn’t enjoy the way that I ogle her.
By now, I know her well enough to know it brings her a sense of triumph that she has that effect on me.
“You took my books.” She stomps across my study until the tops of her thighs brush against my desk. Somehow, there’s both barely any space between us and far too much.
She pulls her lips into a tight line. They’re painted a deep ruby shade that matches the skirt of her dress, and I momentarily imagine the myriad of ways I could ruin it.
“Your books? Funny. I was sure that was my library you were in.”
“And whose fault is that?” she fires back, quirking her brow.
I let out an amused chuckle. Of course she’s right. I absolutely took away the books she was looking at yesterday. I wasn’t even aware that those books were in the library to begin with, but they held knowledge that was too dangerous for her to discover.
“Extra fiery today, aren’t we? What a treat,” I tease, hoping that if I get her temper high enough, she’ll forget the original reason she came to my study. I need her to forget about the damned books.
“Just put them back, and I won’t bother you in your precious study anymore.” She gives me an insincere smile, dropping her hands to her hips.
“Who says I want that?”
She rolls her eyes, but she has no idea the truth lying within my words.
I’m a man starved of many things that she is the answer to, and I am willing to devour every morsel she is willing to give me.
Azalea chews her bottom lip, clearly debating her next words carefully.
Finally, I hear her release a soft sigh, and her angry resolve seems to melt away completely.
“Braxton pl—” Her eyes widen, and she stops herself from saying the one word that would actually be considered begging. My Wildflower is too proud for that. “It’s my only happy place.”
An odd mixture of pain and excitement fills my veins. Pain that it’s the only place that makes her happy, but excitement that somewhere in this castle, in my castle, is her happy place. That makes my next words that much harder to say.
“The library is open to you once again, but those books have been removed and discarded.”
“Discarded?”
I give a stiff nod.
Her face falls into that look of defeat that I hate. Seeing bit by bit of her defiance chip away brings me no joy. I prefer to get her riled up and watch the fire inside her come alive.
“I—” I hesitate, but don’t stand a chance when I see a glimmer of hope rise in her eyes. “I promise that I won’t lock you out of the library again.”
The hope dims. “But the books?”
“I told you they’ve been discarded.” I drop my eyes down to my desk in hopes she won’t be able to detect the lie within my words.
In actuality, those books are stacked on top of my dresser in my room, and I plan on going through them to see if there’s anything of use for me within their bent and torn pages.
Azalea’s lip curls. “You just can’t stand to see me happy, can you? You might as well lock up the library again if you’re going to control what I can read,” she spits.
I roll my eyes, but my lips tilt into a smirk. “Always with the dramatics. You know there are plenty of other places in the castle for you to explore. You could take a walk in the gardens, perhaps.”
“It’s cold.” Azalea’s words are curt as she keeps her eyes on me, studying my reaction and waiting for me to argue.
My eyes drift to the window next to me, where sunlight is beaming into my study. I know from my own experience this morning, when picking the freshly bloomed forget-me-nots for Azalea’s bouquet, that it is a far cry from being cold outside.
“Right.” I blow out a breath. “You could—”
“Let me stop you there, Your Highness.” Her title for me is drenched in sarcasm. “Whatever suggestion you make, I’m going to find a reason to hate it.”
My jaw tightens. “Well, that seems childish.”
Azalea’s spine goes straight at my response. Placing her palms flat against my desk, she leans forward, her lips curling around her teeth.
“Childish?” she repeats, a familiar rage building in her tone.
I’m certain this won’t end well for me, but that stubborn streak of defiance ingrained inside the very marrow of my bones refuses to back down.
There is also the small part of me that simply wants to keep talking to her, even if it is a fight.
“Incredibly childish.” I bite the words out, clenching my jaw.
She nods her head a couple of times before licking the front of her teeth, and as fucked up as it is, something inside me sparks to life at the anger brewing behind her gorgeous, honey-colored eyes.
In my mind, anger and passion toe a fine line, and if there is one thing that can bring me to my knees, it’s Azalea when she’s passionate.
“Question for you then, since you seem to be so brilliant. Out of everyone in the room, which one of us threw a temper tantrum over a debt payment and decided to then kidnap someone against her will who had nothing to do with said debt and has ever since been too big of an ass to admit they were wrong and therefore kept the person prisoner in the coldest, emptiest, loneliest castle that has ever graced all of Condefes?”
My face hardens. Her blow landed its mark. She knows I detest it when she mentions how much she hates my castle. Her lips tilt into a triumphant smile when she sees me try to mask my budding anger at her remark.
Crossing around my desk, I close the distance between us.
She stands taller and turns with me as I circle her until the backs of her thighs are pressed against the edge of my desk behind her.
Once I’m standing in front of her, I place both of my hands on top of the wooden surface, caging her in.
Only then does she turn her face away from mine to keep herself from touching me, as if I’m some kind of leper.
A surge of fury burns in my veins at the repulsed crinkle of her nose.
Before I can think better of it, my hand grips the back of her neck.
Using my thumb, I roughly press it against her jaw until her face tilts back up to look at me.
“Do me a favor then, prisoner,” I sneer, tightening my grip, “and wear something pretty to dinner.”
Her nostrils flare, and my eyes drop to the movement before dipping further to look at her lips.
I can see her suck in a breath as she watches me, and to my utter dissatisfaction, it’s not a breath of anticipation.
She’s nervous. Nervous that I’ll take something that isn’t being offered to me.
In this moment, I can see exactly how much of a monster she sees me to be.
Sadly, I don’t blame her. Time has turned me into a beast that has left me unrecognizable even to myself.
Dropping my hand from her neck, I stalk out of my study, knowing I’m heading towards a cold drenching. I crave the sting of icy water, hoping it will extinguish the burning heat in my body.
By the time I’m sitting down at the dinner table, my thoughts are no less scrambled, and my urges are barely subdued.
I hear the door creak, and lift my head, curious to see the ensemble she put together after my demand from earlier.
I almost can’t stop the laugh that rumbles inside me when Azalea enters the room. She came to dinner in rags.