The one who kissed me so gently.
I stab the knife into the pillow beside his head. “Fuck.” It’s a primal scream, coming from deep within me. Because I have him. I have him. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and yet, from the moment I met him he’s been getting under my skin, twisting my desires, making me questioneverything.
How do I reconcile his gentleness with the monster Mariam and Serissa spoke of?
I need the truth. I need to know what happened to Aylin.
The rage within me wants to fight its way free, but it’s the hot glide of a tear down my cheek that catches me by surprise.
“Zyla.” Bael captures my face in his palm, but I pull away from him, fighting against the temptation to submit to the touch and the comfort it offers. “Zyla, wait.”
“Is she… alive?” I can barely say it.
His expression softens. “Of course, she’s alive.”
Shoving away from the bed, I turn blindly and pace. The pain within me is so real, so strong, it’s all I can do not to buckle. If I just keep moving, maybe I can stop the world from spinning on its axis the way it is now. Clutching at the silk nightrobe, I curl my fingers into it, nails digging through the silk into my palms, gasping for breath. I need it to hurt. I need it all to hurt.
Soft footsteps stalk me. “Zyla.”
The way he says my name…
Turning, I drive my fist toward him with another scream. Maybe he senses my need for he meets it, palm capturing the punch and absorbing the shock of it.
“What did you do to her?”
His expression firms. “Your sister is safe. She resides at my keep?—”
Nine years. Ninefuckingyears.
I can barely hear him. The rage pours out of me like a dam breaking, and I hit at him. He captures blow after blow, meeting me just hard enough to make it hurt, as if he knows exactly what I need right now. Because rage is my shield. Bubbling just beneath the surface is enough raw emotion to drown me and I don’t think I can cope with that right now.
She’s alive.
She’s safe.
I can’t fuckingbreathe.
Bael’s hands capture my wrists, and I wrench against him, but I’m a mess now and I sag as he holds me.
“You lied to me,” I gasp out, shaking with the shock of it. “I thought…”
“What?”
His face comes into focus, all hard chiseled planes and stubble. The warlord is back in place, his expression a shield. Or maybe I was imagining it all along. Maybe none of it was real. Maybe this was what lay beneath the surface all along.
Nothing.
I wanted. And I yearned. And when his lips grazed mine, a little, desperate part of me I thought long buried began to flutter with a temptation I’d never expected to find in this place.
“You knew I was hunting for you,” I whisper, because Ineedto know. “You knew and you deceived me. Why?”
He looks away from me. “Because I wanted you. And you would not have me. Not if you knew the truth.”
“So you lied?”
“I never lied. I omitted.”
“Why?”
