He had been the first to teach me that silence was a currency. That restraint was a weapon, and some men only enjoy the things they can break. Not in the obvious way. Adrian never raised his hand at me, never locked me away, or forced me into submission. No, he had been smarter than that. He loved me. Though there were times, he indirectly demanded surrender. And I, young and naive as I had been, had given it to him without realising the cost.
We were… not passionate… but compatible with each other.
I don’t think Zagreus and Adrian were the same kind of men, but they were made of the same material. While Adrian always prioritised me physically, I was coming to realise I was too dependent on him. Wasn’t this why I started painting in the firstplace? I was so dedicated to making my own money that I didn’t realise he didn’t want me to work.
Just for my sake, I reminded myself.
But Zagreus, he didn’t even want me to breathe without him. Celestine Vitale.
I forced another bite into my mouth, swallowing it down with a sip of wine, ignoring the burn.
Zagreus watched me all the while. “What do you want to know?”
I paused. Zagreus never gave anything away for free. If he was offering me answers now, it was because he had already decided how much I was allowed to have.
A sick realisation curled in my stomach.
“You were playing with me, weren’t you?” I murmured, feeling stupid. “It’s all a game to you.”
His lips tilted, and I clenched my thighs tight. “Wouldn’t it be boring if it weren’t? We play games to pass the time, don’t we?”
I exhaled slowly, setting my fork down. “What happened to my mother?”
The amusement in his eyes didn’t disappear, but it cooled. He casually leaned back, swirling the wine in his glass, watching me through the red liquid. “She made a deal.”
The words landed like a fist on my ribs.A deal. “What kind of a deal?”
“The kind you don’t walk away from.”
Still not an answer. He liked talking in riddles. What was he, a poet of some kind? “And?”
“And,” he grinned, “that’s all you get for your performance last night.”
I went still. My skin felt too tight, and my pulse was loud in my ears. Emotions were expensive, and I had no intention of paying the price tonight.
Zagreus exhaled, setting the glass down. “You wanted to see your lover’s grave, didn’t you?”
The words hit me worse than a bullet. I almost forgot about that. I wasn’t expecting him to bring up the topic. Though I did ask him to, I didn’t think he’d actually let me see him. Judging by the madness he showed last night, I was certain I’d never bring up Adrian again to provoke him.
But he seemed to know how to read people in almost unnatural ways.
The lights flickered over his face, casting deep shadows over the sharp edges of his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, and the wicked slash of his mouth. And then there was that scar. Making him look devastatingly lethal.
He was too composed for the man who looked possessive and viciously insane.
I could feel the heat climbing my throat.Adrian. My pulse hammered. I hated how aware I was of him. Of the way his dress shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, the way his fingers toyed with the rim of his wine glass.
“You will let me see him?”
He leaned forward and curled his lips. “I think I will. Would you like to see him now?”
The words crashed into me like a wrecking ball. The room tilted, my stomach twisting into knots. My fingers clenched around the stem of my wine glass, tight enough that a little more pressure might shatter it.Adrian.
The name was a wound, raw and festering, torn open with a single flick of Zagreus’s tongue. My breath hitched, the phantom weight of Adrian’s hands brushing over my skin—a memory, a ghost, a curse. I swallowed hard, but it did nothing to dislodge the lump in my throat.
Zagreus watched me, waiting, a predator enjoying the way his prey struggled against the inevitable.
I forced myself to meet his gaze, but my voice had abandoned me. My throat was tight, my body stiff, and yet my traitorous heart pounded at the mere thought of Adrian’s grave.
