That man feels very far away right now.
“You’re embarrassed by me,” I whisper. “I’m good enough for you to fuck behind these stone walls, but nothing else.”
His jaw flexes. “That’s not what I said.”
“You don’t want me there because you think I’ll embarrass you again. Because Remy acts weird around me. Because he’s horrified you’re attached to someone like me.”
Timothy’s eyes darken. “Remington’s issues with you go back further than our marriage, Baroness.”
The use of my title, instead of my name, stings.
“What about your ex?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “Will she be there? You never talk about Remy’s mother.”
“Of course not!” The snap in his voice is sudden. His temper flares–rare, bright, gone in a heartbeat. “This has nothing to do with my son or his mother. This has everything to do with you not being able to regulate yourself in public!”
The words hit harder than any slap, but he’s not finished.
“There are roles in the House of Night. And you’re here to fulfill them. Attending this event is not one of them.” Darkness clouds those green eyes. “You are here to submit to my needs and the needs of your Barons, that’s it. That’s all.”
“But–”
“Don’t push me, Daughter.” His eyes dart to the wardrobe, to the cage nestled behind its wooden exterior. “Do not make me get you back in line.”
He turns away first, dismissive, tearing the invitation into two and tossing it on the floor. I watch him walk out, the door closing behind him hard enough to rattle the windows.
Time stills, frozen much like I am, the invitation shredded on the floor. A million scenarios flood my head, wondering where he’s going and what he’ll do. Go back to the hotel? To Noir Sanctum? Will he find another woman–someone composed, someone who doesn’t shatter in public? Does he regret letting me see his face? Does he regret me?
I feel stupid. Small. Insecure in a way I haven’t since the first days I was here, when every situation felt like a test I was failing. The negative spiral rushes back—loud, familiar.
I’m not enough.
Never was.
Never will be.
My chest tightens. I turn and run, down the hall away from the room that smells like him, back to the bedroom I share with the Barons. I slam the door behind me and sink onto the edge of the bed.
Breathe, Arianette. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.I press my palms to my thighs, hard, grounding myself in the bite of my nails through the fabric. I close my eyes.
Breathe.
I’m not spiraling. Not yet.
But the room feels too big. Too quiet, because he doesn’t come back, not even to explain. Not even to fight or punish. I curl my arms around my knees and wait for the ache in my chest to ease.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, but I look up when the dooropens with a soft creak. Hunter steps inside, Ares padding in right behind, his body giving a good shake nose to tail.
“Christ, it’s cold outside. Which means Ares needed to take forever to handle his business.” Hunter shrugs out of his coat, hanging it on the hook by the door, and rubs his hands together. “DK went over to check on the kitten in the dormitory. Said he’d be back soon.” His eyes land on me–curled on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up. His frown is immediate. “Do you want to go over? We can walk back together.”
I don’t answer right away. My hands are in my lap, fingers twisting together so hard my knuckles ache. I can’t stop moving–small, restless circles, like if I sit still the thoughts will catch up and swallow me whole.
“Hey.” Hunter steps closer, voice dropping softer. “Something wrong?”
“I embarrassed him.”
A line creases his forehead. “Embarrassed who?”
“Timothy. At the ascension.” The words spill out before I can catch them–fast and jagged, tumbling over each other like they’ve been waiting behind my teeth for hours.
