Malice, for exactly one second, thinks Aerin pulled her punch. Surely such a thing couldn’t matterthatmuch to hersister. But like an explosion, Cisera screams. She shatters the lights, fractures the drywall, splinters the small table lining the hall with flames. Her magic propels out of her like an inferno. It hits the apartment’s new wards and dissipates.
“You don’t deserve it!” Cisera roars. Bruin is between the sisters now, shoving Cisera down the hallway.
“You don’t deserve him! You don’t deserve any of it!” Her magic continues to ravage the hallway. Flames lick up the walls, devouring the carpet, the wallpaper.
Bruin shoves Cisera into the elevator, a wave of his own hand putting the flames out. Cisera is sobbing now, her brother half holding her up.
“She doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t deserve it,” she chants. Bruin glances over his shoulder, a mournful look cast across his features. Aerin shuts the door.
22
AERIN
Shutting the door on her screaming sister, Aerin thuds her head against it, taking deep breaths. She attempts to dissipate the surge of emotions that rose and fell.
Forgetting Malice altogether, Aerin takes another breath. For a moment, she grieves. Half of Aerin loathes her sister, the other half pities her, and a very small part, wishes things were different. It’s their father, always pulling their strings, pitting them against each other, for as long as Aerin has been alive. No matter how Aerin fights to escape him, his games, his control, he forms another cage around her. Through Bruin. Through Cisera.
Aerin pulls back from the door, glancing over her shoulder. Malice watches her carefully.
“That went well,” he says sarcastically.
Aerin tries for a smile that doesn’t reveal how she’s breaking inside. She isn’t sure if the mask really forms.
“Better Cisera attempting to burn down the building than Royal Guards dragging us to my father.” Aerin shrugs.
“No one will lay a hand on you without your consent,” Malice growls.
She sighs again. It is too much to think about right now.
“Down, boy.” Aerin attempts to be blithe. Rage flashes over his features before he settles again.
His hot and cold is giving her whiplash. One second, he’s pinning her against the nearest surface, setting her body on fire with the simplest touch. The next, he’s glowering at her from across the room. Or obeying her commands in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
As much as Aerin wants to come across as resolute in her decisions, she can admit to herself she has no fucking clue what she is doing. How this is supposed to go.
“Sorry for making it seem like we are sleeping together,” Aerin says with an internal grimace she hopes to keep off her face.
“They believed it easy enough,” Malice grunts in response.
Aerin waves for him to follow her as she starts down the hall. He does. As she moves through the space Aerin feels a new sense of peace, finally hidden from prying eyes after years of constant surveillance.
Shedding her jewelry, it falls like armor. Aerin removes the fake stomach piercing first, letting out a breath of relief. Malice stands close by. Every cell in her body vibrates with his proximity. She reaches for her necklace, breath hitching when Malice’s hand covers hers.
“Let me.” His voice is thick.
Aerin pulls her hair from her neck as Malice takes the delicate chain and unclasps it behind her head. His fingers brush across her nape.
“So, you’re back to the Malice who wants to touch me?” Aerin jokes, turning around to face him. They are standing too close. His eyes are scrutinizing. She wonders, not for the first time, what he’s thinking.
Aerin spent the last six weeks watching Malice as he watched her, wondering. And wondering. And wondering. Now they arebonded for their very long lives, and she isn’t even sure they like each other.
She wishes she had longer to get to know him. Though her guilt doesn’t help her now; whether the choice was right or wrong, it’s the one she made. Her plan is well and truly in motion. That’s what she needs to keep her focus on. She can feel guilty later when all is said and done.
The last of Aerin’s energy depletes rapidly. She leans heavily against her desk. The strain on her magic feels like a tap run dry, every part of her weary with exhaustion.
Aerin slips past Malice to the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, Malice follows.
“Where are you going,” he demands. “You need to answer—” His voice turns thick as Aerin sheds her shirt. He clears his throat. “—my questions.”
