Chapter 94 Jace
JACE
My door blasts open, ricocheting off the marble wall. Serena stalks in and pins me against the mantel, one arm barred against my chest and a knife poised to my throat.
I could disarm her with my eyes closed and my hands bound. But I don’t.
Instead, I wait, paralyzed by the heat of her touch. Desperate for one more second of her body pressed against mine—to breathe her in and get drunk off her scent.
So I allow it. I allow her to hold me there, eyes sharp as the dagger pressed to my neck.
“You know killing kings usually results in decapitation.”
She shrugs, indifferent. “King regent. And not for much longer.”
“Until Sorscha and Eaton’s coronation.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“How do you intend to torment me without your head?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Don’t do that. Do not flirt with me,” she snaps.
“I would never.”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t drive this straight through your neck.”
“I can’t. You’re going to do whatever you want to anyway, so I think I’ll save my breath.
But before you do—” I take her balled fist and place it at my nape, holding it there.
“Just remember what this feels like. Remember who taught you how to hold a dagger, how to throw one. How to ruin someone with just a flick of your wrist.”
The air around us is electric. Charged with adrenaline and desire and lines just begging to be crossed.
“I could ruin you with far less than that,” she threatens.
“You already have.”
I catch a rare flash of surprise in her stare. It’s gone before I can blink.
“There,” I whisper, unable to keep from looking at her lips. “Ready to die.”
Her eyes flicker, some of the bloodlust receding. With a growl, she lowers the blade.
“You deceived me.” Each clipped word is packed with icy venom.
“A necessary evil.”
“Zadyn died!”
“I’m assuming he lived since you haven’t acted on the urge to kill me yet.”
“That is not the point. You’re lucky I was able to bring him back.
And don’t think it didn’t cost me.” She shoves away from me, and I instantly mourn the loss of her nearness.
“He never should have died in the first place. But thanks to you, he did. And whatever idiotic feelings I had for you died with him.”
“Did they?” I reach for her wrist and angle her dagger back to my neck. “Then you should have no problem doing what you stormed in here to do.”
The flames swell behind me. Orange and blue light flares across her face, and that look in her eye…
She is fire. She is heat. She is strength and blood and tears. Fury and grief. And sometimes it’s like looking in a mirror.
“Just stop.” She breaks away again, dropping the knife and holding up her hands. “Don’t touch me.”
My stomach churns.
“What you did—locking me up…I never in a million years expected you to do something like that. To banish me to the sidelines as people died out there. Because of me. As you went to battle. As Zadyn put himself at risk with that insane plan.”
She takes a step closer, her glare eating through me. “If he had stayed dead, it would have been your fault.”
“I was doing what I thought was best. We both were. He agreed that you needed to be stopped.”
“Doing what was best? Best for who?!”
“For me!” I pound my chest, unable to contain the shout. Bounding off the wall, I back her up a step.
“Is that the answer you’re looking for? Fine, then.
I did it for myself. Because you are everything to me, and I will always be selfish when it comes to you.
I don’t care who has to die as long as in the end, you and I are still standing.
I don’t care if you hate me—at least you’re alive to do it.
You’re here, in front of me, breathing. You can blame me, vilify me, yell at me all you want, but you know what?
I am not sorry for locking you up. I love you beyond comprehension, beyond sanity—and I would do it again in a heartbeat, despite the cost—”
Her hand comes up to slap me across the face. The bite of her handprint clings to my skin as her chest heaves.
“Don’t you ever say you love me. You don’t.
What you love is control. Even asking me to marry you.
You didn’t ask out of love, you asked out of fear.
Because you didn’t want to lose me. I am”—her voice trembles as tears brim in her wild eyes—“so disappointed in you. And I will never. EVER. Forgive you.”*
That stings worse than a thousand of her hardest slaps.
And instead of falling on my knees and apologizing, instead of groveling and begging for the mercy of her forgiveness, instead of confessing all my deepest regrets and giving her the truth she deserves—I double down, my face hardening as I draw my shoulders back and adopt that removed front I’m so well known for.
“Go on and hate me then. I don’t really care. It will be better for both of us in the long run if you do.”
“I wholeheartedly agree.” Her lavender eyes sparkle with resentment as she backs away and reaches for the door.
It hasn’t yet slammed before I grab the glass of whiskey off the table and hurl it against the wall to shatter into a thousand crystalline shards.
* Cue: you broke me first by Tate McRae