The pain. The fear. The ruin.
“I didn’t want the crown without the queen who wears it.”
I’ll never forget those words. Or how I gave him all my pretty and broken pieces. I gave him my heart and soul. And he gave me his monster. For once, I didn’t hide or run from a monster.
I surrendered to it.
I try to sit up, and something stings my arm. An IV needle. At least I don’t have a feeding tube stuffed down my throat. I hate those. There’s only one thing I ever want shoved down my throat. Well, five things. Not that I should be thinking about them.
No intubation means I can’t have been asleep too long, but my stomach is rumbling something fierce. I imagine I’ll still have to take it slow. Hopefully, Rory can cook me up a good broth. He’d better bring all that he’s got.
I wince as I try to sit up, noticing the faint imprints from their teeth on my flesh, the fading bruises. My pussy still feels a little sore, but it’s more of an ache—no sharp burning. No, the sharp pain radiates from my calf where Raphael shot his arrow. I slowly lift the sheet to find the wound bandaged. I inhale and exhale deeply through the pain.
Moving even a little makes it hurt more, so I stop, only half sitting up.
Out of the corner of my eye, Jude begins to shift in his seat. Unlike Rory and Seth, he’s a light sleeper.
“Hey, Cheekbones.”
Immediately, he jerks awake.
All his muscles flex, and he instantly snaps up, practically lurching for me. “Briella.” He touches a hand to my forehead. “Thank whatever gods in heaven or hell.” He checks if I have a fever, but I don’t. “How do you feel?”
“Hungry.”
He smiles. Probably my favorite kind. It’s a doctor’s smile, a healer’s. And something else. Something in the way he touches me. It’s more intimacy than normal.
After he kisses me something fierce, I ask, “How long have I been out?”
“Three days.”
“Where is everyone?”
Jude blows an amused chuff. “Last I saw, Rory and Seth were beating one another by the woodpile. Probably Rory running his mouth as usual. Bet they were fighting over you. Vincent has been sleeping in the barn. It’s where he feels normal when stressed. I don’t know where Raphael is. He went hunting, and he hasn’t returned. Sometimes he does that. Are you sore?”
“A little bit. But I’m mostly hungry. Aww!” I notice Pew Pew curled up against my legs. As if he knows I’m talking about him, he stares and lifts his head before crawling over to me and nudging my hand. “Hey, you little stinker. Has he been with me the whole time?”
“Him and me.”
“Thank you, Jude.” I almost speak those three words, but I still can’t summon the confession.
His brows furrow, and he swallows hard, but I know his frustration isn’t for me. “ I don’t know why the fuck you are thanking me after everything.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Briella.” He purses his lips, eyes wavering before centering on me again. “Goddammit, Babydoll. You still have bruises everywhere. And teeth marks. You’re sore from our fucking—which happened while you werepassed out.”
I raise the sheet more until it bunches up at my neck, but I don’t lose his gaze. “Because Raphael told you to, right?”
“That fucking arrow pierced you,” he goes on, anger growing, for me not at me. “Left a gaping scar. You got hypothermia and a fever that left you unconscious for three damn days.”
I pause, taking stock of everything, acknowledging. “Okay, it was bad.”
His glare could melt daggers.
“Okay,reallybad. But I don’t know. This is so fucked up.” I drag my nails through my hair, raking my skull before peering up at him. “But I think I needed it. I needed to know how far you would go, how farhewould go to…keep me.”
Jude pinches the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand. It’s clenched into a fist. “You’re just as crazy as he is.”
