Page 87 of The Vespertine Treaty

It wasn't a killing constriction, but it was a warning. The pressure against my ribs made it hard to breathe.

"Look at her," Rosette purred, stopping in front of me. She tilted her head, her expression one of mock pity. "So small. So pathetic. No wonder he keeps you locked away. You're barely a mouthful."

"Let me go," I said, my voice trembling, my eyes fixed on the snake’s unblinking gaze.

"Let you go?" Rosette laughed, and the shadows around the room flared, turning into jagged spikes that loomed over me. "Oh, darling. We are just getting started."

She leaned in, her heavy perfume suffocating me. She looked down at my silk nightgown, her eyes glowing with a dark, violet light.

"You know what Obscurers do, don't you, Ophelia?" she whispered, her finger tracing the neckline of my slip. "We hide things. We conceal the truth. But we can also conceal... layers."

She smiled, and the air shimmered around my chest. For a second, the silk of my gown flickered, warping into transparency, then nothingness.

I gasped, trying to curl inward, but the snake held me pinned.

"I could make this dress disappear entirely," Rosette threatened, letting the magic fade so the silk returned, leaving the threat hanging in the air. "I could leave you sitting here, naked and shivering, while Malathor and I discuss your future. Would you like that? To be truly exposed?"

"You're sick," I spat, my face burning.

"I am thorough," she corrected.

"I cannot wait to see you break," she whispered, her voice sliding into my ear. "I want Malathor to take you apart, piece by piece. And when you are nothing but a weeping, hollow shell... I will send the pieces back to Cain."

She pulled back, her smile sharp enough to cut glass.

"And then," she continued, "I will be the one to console him. I will be the one to mend his precious ego. Because that is all you are to him, Ophelia. A possession. A toy he doesn't want anyone else to play with. He doesn't care about you. He cares that his property was stolen."

Something inside me snapped.

Maybe it was the terror. Maybe it was the snake constricting my throat. Or maybe it was the memory of Cain’s hand on my cheek, the way he had looked at me whenever I tried to fight him—like I was a puzzle he desperately wanted to solve.

A fire ignited in my chest, burning through the fear, burning through the shame.

"He will never want you," I hissed.

The room went silent. Rosette blinked, genuinely surprised.

I stared up at her, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, but my chin lifted. "You can break me. You can kill me. But he will never look at you the way he looks at me. You are nothing to him but a mistake he already made and regrets.”

The jealousy was a bitter, acidic taste in my mouth, shocking me with its intensity. I shouldn't care. I should hate him. But the thought of her touching him, of her taking my place... it made me want to scream.

Rosette’s face contorted. The beautiful mask slipped, revealing the ugly, snarling jealousy beneath.

"You think you are special?" she shrieked.

Her hand lashed out, slicing across my cheek. I cried out as a thin line of pain flared hot on my skin, blood trickling down to my jaw. Her nails were sharp as knives.

Rosette grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to look into her furious eyes. Sensing its mistress's rage, Sybel shifted. The thick coil around my chest slid upward, wrapping a suffocating band of muscle around my throat as the snake hissed in my ear.

"You possess nothing," she spat, her face inches from mine. "Do you know how he screams when he comes? Do you know the things he likes? The way he likes to be bitten? The way he loses control?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out her words, but she lowered her voice to a venomous whisper.

"I know every inch of him, Ophelia. I know how he tastes. I know the sounds he makes in the dark. I know the temperature his skin drops to when he is finally empty. And while you rot herein Malathor’s dungeon, I will be the one riding him. I will be the one making him forget you ever existed."

She shoved my head back, releasing my hair. I gasped for air, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the blood from the cut on my cheek.

"Enjoy the dark, little princess," Rosette sneered, turning on her heel. She whistled. Slowly, agonisingly, Sybel uncoiled from my body. The heavy muscle loosened, the snake's massive length dropping away to pour over the armrest and slither wetly across the floor to join her mistress. "Malathor has plans for you. And I have a date with a grieving Lord."