Of course she’s right. I would never take something that wasn’t enthusiastically given to me, but watching her get this riled up is too tempting to ignore.
“Oh, I promise you, I would do far more than dare, Wildflower.” My voice grows husky.
Her shoulders tense, and I can see her fighting back the urge to scream at me. I wonder what it says about me that I want her to. I want to watch that fragile thread of composure snap. I want to see her lose herself in her anger and let it fuel her. She’s so powerful when she finally gives in to that fury, and I fucking love it.
Maybe it’s selfish on my end, wanting her to be consumed by her vexation the same way I’m fueled by mine. Maybe then she would understand how I’ve transformed into being more monster than man at this point. But I know she won’t give in to it, not fully. That’s what makes her better than I will ever be. But still, I try to push her.
“Now, sit,” I command.
She hesitates, her mind no doubt working out and weighing her options. Eventually, she turns away from me, and I hold a bated breath waiting to see what she’s going to do next. I watch as she gracefully picks her chair back up, politely declining help from any of the staff who rush to assist her. Her face becomes impassive as she lowers herself back in her chair, brushing a couple of her loose curls from her face.
“Good, girl,” I coo.
She rolls her eyes, and I watch as the muscle in her jaw tenses. After a few bites in complete silence, Azalea wipes her mouth and looks at me widening her almond eyes to feign a look of innocence. “You know you are as predictable and boring as you are handsome.”
“So you think I’m handsome?” I tease, a playful smirk filling my face.
“Undoubtedly so. You are arguably the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on.” She pauses, lifting another bite of the roasted potatoes to her mouth and taking her time chewing.
“What did I do to earn such high praise?”
“I wasn’t finished.” She sips her water before sitting back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap. Only then does she look at me head-on, her eyes unblinking, unwavering, and filled to the brim with hatred. “You are arguably the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on, and still I am so repulsed by you that I would rather have my skin flayed from my body with a dull, rusted knife than have to be in your presence a moment longer.”
I feel the muscle in my jaw feather.
“Being around me is that difficult?” Her words sting more than they should. I know she can’t stand me and will continue hating me unless she finds out the truth. Unfortunately, the truth is the one thing I can’t give her.
“Undoubtedly so.” She shrugs as if her bruising words didn’t just land their mark on me.
“What if I were to make it more bearable?”
“Doubtful that you could.” She shakes her head before turning her attention back to her food.
“I’ll let you ask me one question.”
She doesn’t look up at me, but her spine straightens just slightly, and I know I have her attention. I can see she’strying to conceal her emotions, but the flicker of excitement is unmistakable even as she keeps her head down.
“One question?”
I nod. Now she finally meets my gaze. My eyes roam over her stunning features, lingering on her pouty lips.
“Five questions,” she bargains. She knows that this is an absurd request; she’s clearly testing me.
“Three,” I counter, leaning back in my chair.
“Per day.” She leans forward, steepling her fingers on the table.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Three questions per day. After all, if you want to make yourself more tolerable to be around, you should let me ask you questions every time we’re together.”
My eyes narrow. One corner of her lips lifts, a small dimple forming in her cheek.
“Deal. Three questions per day.”
Surprise ripples across her face so quickly that if I hadn’t been memorizing her every feature, I would have missed it.
“But,” I continue, and her glimmer of excitement falters, “you cannot ask me any questions that directly pertain to the parameters of our curse.”
