It never bothered me. Now, all I want is to hide and simultaneously cut his eyelids off while he’s still awake for his family’s hand in hurting Hayes.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I run a hand along my exposed belly, nails raking the glinting sequins. Pink neon signs in the back shine against the shadows, casting ugly lights over the vanity tables. Rows of red scandalous silks and lace line the closets, waiting for their debuts on stage.
The stage used to be my sanctuary. Where I could ignore my perfect mask and feed the other side of me—the viper. It’s a fitting moniker Hayes gave me.
The stage is a noose around my neck, ready to snap. A way for Roman to control me. A way for me to be reminded of my self-loathing, not the small progress I’ve made in embracing my taint.
All because of Hayes. Who sees those moments and smiles. Who wants more of it. Who understands that this world has created us into something different—though no less worthy.
He appears behind me, hungry eyes trailing over my body. I don’t hide—not from him. He knows me, has seen those broken bits and has kept them close.
I’m reminded of his words a few nights ago. And my heart lodges in my throat.
He was concussed, bleeding, exhausted. He didn’t know what he was saying.
I really wish he remembered. But he stayed quiet, being brought to my room by Killian the next morning, sleeping for the remaining days. This is the first he’s been out of the manor, placing weight on his still sore leg.
If he didn’t say anything, does he not remember? Was it a fluke, a moment of clarity brought on by sudden death?
“What are you thinking?” he asks, rough palms sliding along my hips. My body falls back, knowing he’ll support me. I’ve gone from tensing with his every touch, to craving it.
“Nothing,” I lie. How do I ask?
Hey, remember when you told me you loved me? You had just been shot and thought you were dying, but I really liked it. Want to date? For real this time?
Not very smooth.
“You’re a horrible liar,” he singsongs, laughing. “You’re starting to pout.”
Him, knowing me, is all fine and well until it’s used against me.
“I’m just worried about your leg.”
“My leg.” He glances down.
“You’re still healing.” I changed his wrap before we left and I can see blood seeping through the gauze. “You need to keep weight off of it.”
“Sure. Right after this.” He spins me around, tossing me on to the black lacquered vanity. My makeup, glitter, and body jewels crash to the ground and he pins my throat to the mirror.
“Hayes!” I gasp, my body igniting into dangerous territory. It reacts so easily to him, the need and desire rising up like a rough wave, threatening to take us under. I flush and moan against his fingers flexing, stuttering my breath.
“Something is going on in that brain, viper.” He leans close, smelling like a recent rainstorm and I inhale, trying to memorize it. “Something big. What is it? Do you want to leave?”
“We can’t leave,” I argue. “Roman won’t let us.”
He winks. “He can try.” He uses his thumb to angle my head back. “Tell me,” he commands, voice soft. “What made you so distracted?”
The cool mirror calms some of the heat, but as he nestles between my thighs, my thoughts scatter.
Talking about this makes everything real. I can’t hide from it.
I don’t want to—not anymore.
“Do you remember the night of the first Trial?”
His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “That night is burned into my memory, Collins.”
“Really?”
