It’s just as well. I’m not certain I could have gone through with it right now. Not without risking everything.
I’m surprised when she settles herself on top of the blanket, boots and all, instead of slipping beneath it. But then she reaches for the nearest edge and pulls it over herself, tucking it in against her torso and beneath her upper arm. I guess she means to cocoon herself, a possibility that’s confirmed when she stretches for the other side of the blanket, tugging on the material to pull it toward herself.
“Stop.” I step toward her, and she freezes.
There’s one more thing I need to do before she pulls the covers over herself.
Reaching the side of the bed, I stare down at her, taking in her bedraggled form. It seems that washing her face did nothing to erase the tear tracks marking her cheeks.
My jaw clenches. “Give me your right hand.”
She lies on her left side, so it’s her upper hand. It won’t cause her too much discomfort.
Her brow puckers, but she complies, at which I move quickly.
I need to get out of the cabin.
I need to hunt. Now.
Unlatching the chain from around my armored arm, I swiftly anchor it around her upraised wrist, but instead of leaving it attached to me, I latch the other end to one of the steel poles forming the head of the bed.
Now she can’t slip out of the cabin while I’m gone.
Her brow furrows as she follows the chain from her wrist to the pole it’s attached to. “What if I need to use the bathing room again?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before that’s a possibility.”
She blinks rapidly at me. She looks more startled than she did when I put the chain on her. “Where are you going?”
I don’t answer her. Any truthful answer would give her nightmares.
“Get some sleep, Thyra.”
“But—”
I’m already at the door, pulling it wide, slipping outside. I tell myself it’s my monstrous nature. My poisoned heart.
My need to leave has nothing to do with the warm feeling that invaded my chest when she smiled up at me. Or the heat that pulsed in my blood when she groaned at the sweetness of the berry. Or even the thought of her chained to my bed.
I’m barely down the steps, aware of the door closing behind me, shutting off my view of her, and I’m already peeling off my armor, piece by piece, discarding the layers that cage my true darkness.
This fucking steel. It reduces my strength.Weighs me down. Makes my movements slower. Constrains me. Keeps me in check.
I’ve told no one my secret, not even Victor.
Not even when I asked him to make me the best armor he possibly could.
I imagine he senses the darkness within me. All fae are instinctively wary of me, but he’s never said anything, and I don’t want him to know the truth.
I can’t let anyone find out.
As my pace increases, every plate of steel falls to the ground until I’m free of the metal, left wearing only a thin pair of long pants along with the leather harness that wraps around my chest and covers my heart.
I beat back the temptation to remove the harness, too. I can’t risk it tonight, not when I need to maintain some shred of control over my impulses.
I will lie to Thyra about many things. But I didn’t lie when I told her I was a monster.
My senses expand, my heart pounds, and I have only one remaining rational thought before my brutal impulses take over: Far better that I spill the blood of every creature in this forest than that I lose control and break Thyra before I should.
