Well, I won’t cry over her. And I won’t hide in my room like a scolded child, either. It’s time someone told Eva Novak exactly what an enormous asshole she actually is.
My resolve hardens as I pull on a silk robe over my nightdress, the fabric cool against my heated skin. The anger feels good, feels clean. It burns away the hurt and leaves something sharper behind.
I storm into the hall, my bare feet slapping against stone as I make my way to Eva’s chambers. My hands shake slightly as I raise my fist to her door, but not with fear. Withfury.
I bang on the door sharply, my knuckles stinging against the heavy wood. Without waiting for an answer, I twist the handle and barge in.
Eva is sitting at her dresser, still fully clothed and staring at herself in the mirror. Her reflected eyes meet mine and narrow as they take in my state—clenched fists, flushed cheeks, chest heaving with barely contained rage.
“Can I help you?” Eva asks coolly, her voice carrying that familiar edge of authority that usually makes my pulse skip. Tonight, it just makes me angrier.
“You’re going to listen to me,” I snap, advancing into the room. “And I’m going to tell you a few home truths someone should have told you alongtime ago.”
She turns and rises from her seat, her expression unreadable. “You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Stefan, weren’t you?” she says, tilting her head as she observes me. “And you got your feelings hurt because I told him the truth—that you’re just another one in a long line of women.”
I flinch but force myself to meet her gaze, letting out a hollow laugh. “Oh, believe me, Eva, I know you could never love me. There’s no room in your heart for anyone but yourself.”
In the dead silence after my words, something is crackling between us like electricity before a storm. Eva’s amber eyes blaze golden-bright with something I can’t name—rage, pain, or maybe something wilder and more dangerous?—
She crosses to me too fast for me to even move and grabs me by the hair, her fingers tangling in the strands with enough force to make my scalp sting. Her face is inches from mine, her breath warm against my lips.
“It’s true,” Eva hisses, her voice raw and broken. “I could never love you. Never.” Her grip tightens, pulling me closer until our bodies are pressed together. “In fact, I hate you,” she tells me, her hands still twisting into my hair. “I hate you. Ihate you...”
But every time she says it, the word sounds less like hate and more like a desperate confession. Because I see the truth lurking beneath her fury.
She doesn’t hate me at all.
Something snaps inside me. I grab Eva’s face with both hands and kiss her hard, my anger bleeding into hunger, my hurt transforming into desperate need. For a heartbeat, she freezes against me. Then she’s kissing me back with equal ferocity, her mouth claiming mine like she’s trying to devour me whole.
We stumble backward toward the bed, a mess of hands and mouths and barely contained violence. Eva’s fingers clutch at my robe, yanking it loose as I pull her closer, needing to feel her skin against mine.
This isn’t like our other encounters. This is raw and desperate, fueled by pain and fury and the terrible need to prove something neither of us can articulate.
Eva pushes and shoves me until I fall back onto the bed, following me down in a cascade of dark hair. Her hands are everywhere—skimming over my nightdress, pushing it up my thighs, finding the places that make me gasp and writhe beneath her.
“I hate you,” she whispers against my throat.
“No, you don’t,” I manage, pulling the buttons of her blouse free with more force than finesse. “You hate that you care.”
She makes a sound that might be a sob or a laugh, pressing her mouth to my collarbone. “I hate that you’ve gotten under my skin. That I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I shove her blouse aside and pull her down for another kiss, our tongues meeting in a clash of teeth and need.
“I hate that I want you,” she breathes, sliding a hand between my thighs. “Hate that I want to see you shatter apart for me, then beg for more.”
Her fingers press into my wet heat without preamble, the delicious friction making me cry out. “I hate that you drive me fucking crazy,” I spit back.
Eva’s eyes flash, and her touch becomes punishing. I buck beneath her, clinging to her shoulders, nails biting into her skin. It’s almost too much, but I can’t bring myself to stop her, to do anything other than let her consume me completely.
“More,” I pant, and she gives it to me, fingers stroking me hard and fast. Pleasure builds, hot and sharp, and I’m so close, so close?—
“Is this what you want, little bird? Is this what gets you off?”
“Yes,” I moan, rocking into her. “Please, Eva, I?—”
With a smooth movement, she removes her hand and rolls me onto my stomach, pinning me beneath her. Her hand comes up, tangling in my hair again and tugging sharply, forcing my head back.
“I want to show you,” she whispers into my ear, and the roughness of her voice only makes me wetter. “Get on your hands and knees so I can show you how much I hate you.”
