She keeps her face turned from me, her arms hugging the arm of the chair as if she’s hoping it will comfort her.
Every ounce of my strength goes toward keeping my body from shaking. Fuck. What have I done? What have I done?
Clearly, she doesn’t want to see me right now. I can understand it. I find myself hoping she’ll want to see me again later. Fear strangles my throat at the thought that I may have lost her for good.
I take a step back, suddenly aware that the others are all staring at me.
Everest is standing by the door, watching the scene, devastated. I’m used to his disapproval, though, and used also to the fact that he would never dare to actually defy me.
Logan looks profoundly unhappy, and that upsets me far more than the look in Everest’s eyes. What is going on with him?
And then there’s Vale. I guess I’ve succeeded in doing one thing. The predator has backed off its prey. That smirk of his has been wiped clean off his face.
I nod toward Logan, who looks back at me, startled, as if I’ve pulled him out of a reverie.
“Well?” I ask, my heart thumping in my throat. I’ve come all this way, might as well put the last nail in the coffin and ensure Vale backs off for good. “Aren’t you going to claim your prize?”
He hesitates, his face ashen, then shrugs. He walks over to her, clasps her upper arm, pulls her up, and then—far too gently, for Logan—leads her to the elevator.
This time, she doesn’t resist.
25
Seraphina
“Baby,” whispers Mama, stroking my cheek. “Tell me something. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”
“Neverland,” I say without hesitation. “I want to see Peter Pan. I wish I was Wendy so I could fly away with him. He’s so nice!”
Mama shakes her head, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Oh, no, baby,” she murmurs. “He can’t be nice. He’s a man.”
“He’s not a man,” I defend him. “He’s a boy.”
“Boys, men…” She shrugs. “Makes no difference. They’re all alike. They take what they want, then leave us lying in the dirt. And the sooner you learn that, the better.”
I lie in bed, images of Mama haunting my eyes, my back pulsing with pain.
I’m aware of him behind me. I’m not sure exactly where, but I hear him breathing. He’s not sitting on the bed or I’d feel the mattress dip. He must be just behind it, in one of the two chairs by the phone, waiting.
Waiting for what?
Damien gave him permission. What more does he need?
Certainly not my permission. My hands feel cold as I remember the last real interaction we had, when Logan pushed me into the river and watched, drinking a beer, as I nearly sank.
He’s a fucking lunatic.
And now, he’s won me in a game of poker. Is he going to try to fuck me, or what?
Perhaps I disgust him. Yes, that must be it.
Or maybe, just maybe, he has an inkling of the weapon I’ve hidden in my sleeve, and which I plan to use if he so much as touches me.
No, impossible. Who could imagine poor, quiet Seraphina stabbing anyone with a pair of nail scissors?
He did see me staple Damien’s arm, but it only made him laugh.Well, just try to touch me, asshole. You won’t be laughing then.
