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Something inside me folded in on itself. He hadn't planted a new wound. He had simply driven his knife into one already there.
Before I could respond, he had closed the door behind him with a soft click, leaving me beneath the weight of every stare in the room.
Kaezlyn stood from her chair, a knowing smirk curving her ruby mouth before she followed him out of the dining room. Selkie went after her with her head bowed, wide eyes fixed on the floor, her white silk dress whispering around her ankles like something too pure for Hell.
“What the fuck is going on, Helion?” I demanded as the door closed behind them, leaving me alone with my captor.
He leant against the timber of the table and it groaned beneath him, that wicked smile tugging at his mouth as if my frustration amused him.
“That,” he said, strolling toward the door, “is no way to talk to your husband. You need to trust me.”
I glared back at him, pure fury simmering in my blood.
How could I blindly trust him when he had lied to me for most of the time that I had known him?
“You are not the husband I wanted.” My voice fractured into a thousand layered echoes, every syllable radiating power. Crystal exploded around us as goblets burst apart, blood-red wine raining over the room like fresh-spilled blood.
Helion moved faster than I could react. His hand fisted in the back of my hair and he yanked it backwards until his face was inches from my own.
I bared my teeth and struggled, but his grip only tightened.
The amber flecks in his eyes danced with an anger that burnt hotter than pure lava as wine dripped off the sharp angle of his jaw.
A pathetic whimper left my mouth, the pain through my scalp stinging enough to bring tears to my eyes.
His eyes fluttered closed, and he released a deep breath before slowly loosening his grip.
“Sorry, Lyra, I...” He sighed, ghosting the back of his forefinger down my cheek while I tried not to flinch. “I…” His words failed him, and he braced his forearms against his thighs and bowed his head, fingers locking together until his knuckles blanched.
For a heartbeat, I thought he might say something honest. But the moment passed as the familiar arrogance settled over his face, hiding every crack I'd glimpsed beneath it. He stood and held out his hand for me.
“Come on,” he said softly. “We have to leave. Staying out of our room for longer than an hour will have us punished.”
I stared at his hand, one I would have taken in a heartbeat not so long ago, and leant against the backing of the chair, crossing my arms over the top of my wine-stained dress.
“I’d rather be punished than go anywhere with you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and once again it annoyed me how much he was still the same man that became my friend.
“Come on,” he said lightly. “That seems a touch dramatic, considering you don't actually know what the punishment is.” Something dark flickered over his eyes before vanishing beneath that infuriating arrogance he wore like a second skin.
I didn’t move except a small defiant tilt of my chin.
He had avoided giving me any actual information for far too long.
“We need to leave.” This time there wasn't even an attempt at humour. “Now.”
I held his gaze. I was done doing what I was told without getting any closer to leaving and saving Rythos.
“Make me.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sails and Sirens
Rythos
Lyra,
