Page 50
“You broke into my home.” Fury accompanies my words.
“Yes,” he remarks while picking his nails.
“Where is Morrigan?” I ask, peering around the room, trying to listen to any faint sound.
“Safe. Insulted, but safe.” He gestures vaguely toward the adjoining room. “She is in the wardrobe. Ferocious creature and very opinionated.”
The fury burns through my embarrassment. “You locked my ocelot in a wardrobe?”
“She attempted to remove my face,” he explains.
“Good,” I murmur.
His grin turns delighted. “Oh, I do see why they like you.”
They.
Edward. Alcott. Lazarus. Their names strike too sharply, and he notices every flinch.
“I wanted to meet the woman who has made such a mess of the Afton brothers.” He gestures to me.
“I have made a mess of no one,” I retort.
“No?” He glides closer. “Edward is suffering with remarkable dedication. Alcott thinks of you when he is awake and I imagine he thinks of you when he sleeps as well, but I find his dreams terribly cluttered.”
I grip the edge of the washstand. “And you?”
His eyes darken at my question. “I think you are trouble.” His gaze travels up and down my body, sending shivers down my spine.
“Then leave.” My hand points to the door.
“I also think you are useful,” he murmurs.
A cruel silence spreads between us.
“You are the Darkness,” I say.
His smile softens into something far more dangerous. “Clever Widow.”
My throat tightens. Edward had warned Alcott. Then Alcott had shifted before my eyes and now the thing behind his gaze stands in my bathing room while my blood warms the marble beneath me.
“How much did they tell you?” he asks.
“Enough,” I lie.
“No.” Darkness steps closer. “They told you fragments. Pretty fragments, sad little pieces trimmed at the edges so you would not cut yourself on the truth.”
His gaze drops deliberately to my thighs. I hate him for it, yet I hate myself more.
“Do not look at me like that,” I hiss.
“Like what?” He cocks his head to the side, feigning ignorance.
“Like you know me,” I state.
His expression changes and for the first time, his mockery stills, “I do know you.”
“You do not,” I retort, narrowing my eyes at him.
