Chapter 15
SAGE
Troy Severin is kissing me. Again.
Though it’s not really a kiss, this time, it’s a claim. A brutal one.
His mouth is merciless as his tongue plunges inside. He tastes of alcohol, sharp and burning. He smells like a storm coming. For a single, horrifying, heart-stopping moment, heat flares deep in my core and….
I kiss him back.
The heat of his body, every inch of him, solid and imposing, crashes against me, grinding me into the staircase. His fingers dig in, bruising around the skin of my rib cage. But instead of pulling away, my body melts into him like I’ve been starved of affection for too long.
At first, his touch burns as he shoves roughly under the cool silk of my pajama top, squeezing my breasts, pinching my bullet-like nipples until it hurts. Until a needy moan escapes my lips.
I arch against him.
The useless knife slips from my grasp.
Metal clatters against the wood. And my hand, suddenly lighter, moves up, tangling his silky hair, grabbing a fistful.
Harder.
He groans into me, kissing me like he’s devouring me whole. His teeth scrape and bite my lower lip as he nudges my legs apart. I feel him, solid through his black joggers, as he presses against the silk I’m wearing, and I can’t help but buck my hips and cry out into his mouth.
More.
His lips and teeth travel down to my neck, his breath warming my throat.
“Is this what you want?”
“Y-Yes.”
Reaching down, lower, he shoves under the waistband of my pajama bottoms. And then his fingers are inside me. I gasp as he teases the wetness there, sparking me to life…
Owning me.
A silent promise that I belong to him now, his to do with what he wants,
Just like he threatened.
“Or is this it?”
I’m breathless as he curls his fingers, delving deeper, touching places that stir something to life in me that feels feral and wild.
“No. That’s not—”
He stops swirling my clit so abruptly that I have to look at him. The orgasm building threatens to fade away and die. My fists curl, gripping his hair. If he doesn’t start back up, I’m going to yank it all out.
“You don’t want it?”
My heart hammers. Every nerve feels lit up, waiting to explode. “No, I…”
I can’t say it.
He goes to pull away.
“Wait.”
“You do want it?”
My cheeks heat. “Yes.”
“Tell me, little finch,” he drawls.
“Please, I need—” I bite my lower lip. You.
“What do you need, little finch? Tell me.” His teeth scrape my earlobe, sending tingles down my spine, making me close my eyes.
But I really can’t say it.
“Fuck, Nell. You drive me crazy.”
Her name tears through me as his fingers stroke through my wetness one last time.
It’s all wrong.
I rip my eyes open and push him away, nails raking in a desperate attempt to get free.
But even as I do, my body doesn’t agree. Deep down, I’m memorizing the weight of him between my thighs, the taste of him on my lips, the chaos my body becomes when he touches me, storing it away for later when I’m alone.
I want…no, need him to finish me off so badly that when he finally does pull away, as though I’ve burned him, I nearly let out a sob.
I’m panting like I’ve run a mile.
And twisted with shame.
Finding myself staring into his evergreen irises, so dark that they’re almost black.
Thin scratches mar his neck where I clawed him, bright red lines against bronze skin.
His eyes tear into me, as though looking for…
something. For a split second, on the dark staircase, with his breath on my skin, he seems different, raw and desperate, not so scary anymore.
His pained look mirrors the empty feeling in my heart, and I can imagine we’re both drowning and using each other for air.
But then his gaze goes flat and shutters closed, cutting me off. Even his breathing changes, like he’s composing himself. When they open again, he’s looking at me like I’m evil incarnate.
“Hard to imagine that you’re still a virgin.”
If hate were poison, my skin would be peeling off.
Ignoring how soaking wet the silk is between my thighs, how much I want more of him, I fumble for the dinner knife.
It’s fallen on the step below. The blade ends up aimed at me instead of him.
He waits while I position it correctly in my hand, his lips curving when I finally press the knife into his chest.
I’m shaking so hard I might accidentally stab him. “D-Don’t ever do that again.”
Instead of looking threatened, his eyes glint with something that might be amusement (or might be contempt, I can’t tell). “You’re going to be my wife, but I can’t kiss you? That doesn’t seem very fair.”
My mind flies. That wasn’t just a kiss. But all that comes out is, “Don’t call me, Nell.”
His eyes turn glacial. “Oh, I forgot, she’s your sister.”
“You also forgot that she’s dead.”
“Convenient that she is, and now suddenly you’re here.”
My chest feels tight, and my body feels like it’s been tossed into a sinkhole, and I’m still falling, suffocating slowly. Which is funny, considering I’m the one being sat on. “What do you mean?”
He cocks his head, jaw clenching. “I think you know.”
I don’t know. And I want him to tell me and stop being so cryptic, but I also don’t think I can believe a word he says, either.
“Just let me go.” I jab him with the bluntest knife ever. My hand wrapped around the cool metal handle still isn’t steady. The whole of me is a mess. I bet I don’t look threatening at all.
But he murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it.
“There’s my little blade.”
Then his mouth twitches, but he does as I ask, giving me space to scrabble back on the stairs, fixing my clothing. When he doesn’t try to stop me, keeping the knife pointed, I edge back. Then turn and run back to my bedroom.
He doesn’t follow me.
I’m not sure what I would have done if he had.
I can’t sleep after that, not even with a chair against the door, and me safely underneath the bed.
The feel of his hands and lips still echoes over my tight skin, making me feel like I’ve lost something that I don’t remember having in the first place.
Trying to forget what happened is impossible.
My body aches in places I never knew existed, my nerves thrum with a need I never knew I craved.
Why the hell did he do that?
And why the hell did I let him?
It’s been…well, never since I had sex with anyone. That must be the reason. These feelings are all so new, and of course, I’m curious.
So very curious.
I’ve kissed guys before. I’ve even had boyfriends. I’ve just never let any of them go all the way for fear of my father finding out and disappearing the poor guy on a one-way fishing trip to the bottom of the river.
Maybe my body is literally starved of affection? And every time a gorgeous man like Troy Severin is near, it’s like walking into a room full of mouthwatering, delicious food and being allowed to taste, but not swallow, a single bite.
Could it be that I’m so broken, being so close to a man who literally embodies the phrase handsome devil—living in his house, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed—has awoken something inside me I hoped was gone. Now the slightest touch drives me to the point of insanity?
I reach down and place a shaking hand between my legs. The silky material is still damp, and the need to release myself burns deep within, but every time I think about it, Nell’s face swims into view.
No. I can’t do it.
I can’t get myself off to Nell’s killer.
What kind of sister does that make me?
Yanking my hand away, I turn over, smushing my face into my pillow instead. My mind is racing with all kinds of thoughts, my body wired like I’ve just gone and plugged myself into an electrical socket and walked away.
All I can do is focus on what he said, because what he did to me just now is too much for me to deal with. Like, what did he mean when he said that it’s convenient that Nell is dead, and now I’m here? Is he saying things to confuse me? To hurt me?
I don’t know.
I’m scared I’ll never know.
At least my headache has gone.
Eventually, I pass out with those thoughts tangled up in my mind, my body aching, torturing me until the early hours of the morning.
The next day, the wind is picking up again, and so is the chaos in my mind.
I shower quickly, reliving, to my mortification, Severin’s mouth, soft but savage against my lips, and the solid weight of him as he practically humped me on the stairs.
My body still feels electric where he touched me, and I hate myself for wanting more.
I shouldn’t have let him kiss me like that, among other things.
Why did he?
My mind rages over and over, the same old thoughts spinning around like a bad song.
I must remind him of Nell. That’s the only thing I can think of.
Something happened between my sister and Severin.
I got the distinct impression, last night, he knew Nell intimately.
He called me her name in the heat of the moment.
A kiss like that doesn’t come from one night of knowing each other, arranged marriage or not.
It just…doesn’t.
But just thinking about it makes my breath too short, and spots dance before my eyes. One glance at his ring, snug on my finger, looking too much like it belongs, and I feel pretty sick. It comes off with a bit of soap, and I study it, twisting it to catch the light. Inside is an inscription.
Suibhne.
I have no idea what that means. Shoving aside how mixed up I am, I slip it back on my finger and get changed. The dress I arrived in is over the chair in my room, cleaned and mended, so I put it on.
There’s a couple of texts from my friends waiting.
Laine:
We’re worried. Are you sure you’re okay? Want me to send Jax? He's very intimidating when he wants to be…
Nola:
Do you need us to come and get you? Because we can easily break into that castle. I’m not joking.
I hesitate to reply. What would I say? There’s nothing new to update, and Nola will actually turn up if I start offloading my emotional baggage.