Trembles with the torchlight shuddering over him.
But my hatred is stronger.
“Do it.”
My mouth curls, baring my teeth at him. It would look savage on a fae, but I feel almost as dangerous right now. That icy adrenaline rushing through me tricks me into thinking I could take down the world.
“Stop talking about it,” I spit, “and do it. Kill me. Go on,” I basically growl the words out now, “kill me.”
I don’t think you can.
That’s the truth.
The hatred churning in me.
There’s too much doubt between us—but I don’t think for the life of me that he can pick up a blade and sink it into my heart.
And he doesn’t.
His jaw tightens. Shadows slashing along his cheeks.
“I am so—sosick of you,” I heave the words out, like I’m releasing all the weight inside of me. “I am so tired of it all!”
I blink—and tears fall.
Samick watches one roll down my cheek.
“It is near the end,” he says, as if to reassure me in the quietness of his tone.
My breath shudders, misting at my face.
I look at him, and I see the things I hate on him.
I see understanding in the painted green strokes through his whitish eyes. I see his cheekbones clear of frost, his mouth relaxed, not snarled or thinned.
I swallow back a lump in my throat.
“No.” Tension runs through me, turns me rigid. “I’m sick ofyou, Samick.”
His eyes flash—and he lifts his gaze from the tear streaks.
“I am sick of all you fae freaks. The darkness, the walking, the danger—it’s all nothing compared to how much I fucking hate you.”
It’s truth that spills out of my lips.
But not the whole truth.
That doesn’t matter.
That doesn’t stop me.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve said similar words before to people who dared get too close. Like the minute I start to feel something, or they do, I have to cut them as deeply as I can, because if I do, they won’t chase after me. They’ll hate me.
And that’s better than the alternative.
It’s safer.
Samick’s mask of patience cracks.
