Page 71 of My Dark Prince
I stumbled backwards.
My back hit something firm and tall. I gasped, spinning around to find a decorative plant.
“Goddammit.”
I shook my head and left for the third door. I knocked. No answer again, but this time, I swore I heard something shuffling inside. A piece of furniture scraping. My hands grew clammy.
I knocked again.
“Hello? Anyone there?”
Thump, thump, thump, banged my heart.
With a hard gulp, I twisted the door handle and pushed, just a couple inches. Near total darkness blanketed the room. Both curtains drew across the window, leaving the slightest beams of light at the edges.
I could make out some furniture. A four-poster bed, a dresser, and an array of trophies and certificates displayed on mounted shelves. My heart lodged in my throat. I could hardly breathe. I wedged my head between the door and its frame, catching my first glimpse of him.
Sebastian.
The most beautiful boy to ever live.
He sat there with his back to me, his silhouette breathtakingly imperial. His triangle torso, corded with muscles, was hunched. His curls – still honey-hued, I could tell, even in the dark – laced around his ears and the back of his neck like the Laocoon and His Son sculpture.
“Seb?” I whispered.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked about him once since I’d woken from the comacussion. Up until the dinner, I’d just assumed he was out and about, conquering the world one charming smirk at a time.
He was always the prized son. The athlete. The cunning brother. The ambitious Count. Oliver used to joke that Seb should have come first. His parents would have liked that. But I wasn’t so sure. The von Bismarcks showered both their kids with love. If they preferred Sebastian, they never showed it.
Seb didn’t answer. If it weren’t for the slight movement of his back every time he breathed, I would think he was a statue.
“Sebastian, it’s me. Bri—”
“I know who you are,” he cut me off, his voice detached and foreign.Cruel. “You had no right barging in here.”
I hugged the door, confused. Was he upset with me? Did I do something wrong before I lost my memory?
“Are we … did I do anything to you?”
“No. Everything’s dandy. Now get the fuck out.”
“But … why?”
“I wish to bealone.”
It came out as an actual growl, and if I didn’t know any better, if I didn’t recognize those distinctive, angelic curls, burning red at the edges like a halo whenever sunlight hit them, I would mistake this cold man for a stranger.
“Sebastian, this is silly. If something happened, just tell me. We’re grownups. I—”
“For the love of fuck,leave,” he roared, ripping up from his seat, rising to his full, intimidating height.
He balled his fists by his sides. I flinched. Everything inside me clenched hard, but I didn’t move. He was obviously hurting. I didn’t know why. But one thing was crystal clear – nothing made you feel as lonely as knowing you’re hurt and realizing no one’s coming to help you. The hardest battles are fought in silence, with no one to see the scars.
I trotted inside, ushering Trio and Geezer in with my hand. I hadn’t even realized they’d followed me. Surely, Seb wouldn’t be cruel to the dogs.
“No.” I closed the door behind us. “We’re here to keep you company.”
A disparaging snort launched from his throat. “We?”
