Page 124 of Ravenous

She inhaled sharply. Her eyes went glassy—not with regret but with fury honed to pain. “I hate you,” she whispered, voice splintering like ice. “Get out. Do not ever come back.”

He straightened, pride wounded, instincts screaming at him—apologize, stay, don’t lose her—but the fury climbing through his bones drowned every rational thought.

“Gladly.” He bowed his chest with bitter formality. “Enrage not a demon, Nadje of the Badlands. I forsake you. Forever.”

But before he traced away, her mouth trembled.

Just once.

Quick, barely there.

And that sight carved a hollow into him so deep he feared it would never close.

***

Nadje

She paced her cramped room until the floorboards threatened to vibrate, as if her fury alone might split the seams of this entire castle.

The argument with Inkletter still throbbed in her skull—too hot to cool, too raw to ignore.

How had two people who’d weathered worse together ended up ripping at each other like enemies?

Inkletter’s demonic face replayed before her. Had his rage always lurked beneath his calm exterior? And what had he said—something about a force twisting tempers across the Skein? How much hostility could a spell ignite?

When he’d returned to her after his too-long absence, full of health and vigor, jealousy had flooded her. He’d looked like the male she’d met in the beginning—flirtatious, fun—before all their lies.

And she’d wanted him. Gods, she hated wanting him.

She’d once asked if he’d ever trapped a victim with three separate beddings. His reply: “I refuse to create one of those desperate-eyed slaves.”

Continuing their partnership was tempting disaster. And so her jealousy felt useless, dangerous, and humiliating all at once.

Stop, she ordered herself.You don’t need him.A blood tear slid downher cheek, but she swiped it away with the heel of her hand.Don’t need him at all.

She’d built this life. She sourced the jobs, ran the plans. Inkletter was just the transport—replaceable. And she had a job in this very castle, one she’d stupidly delayed while waiting for him.

Prince Co?tin’s safe wasn’t going to crack itself.

She crossed to her hiding place, fishing out the tiny vial. Every day she’d hesitated, the blood inside had thickened more. Would it even work now? She had to try.

She pocketed the vial, straightened her uniform, then climbed to the hall of sins.

The royals sounded angrier tonight, their voices seeping through stone—snarls, crashes, something breaking. The air in the corridor felt charged, like a storm caged indoors. Did the full moon affect them, or was it the energy Inkletter had mentioned?Stop thinking about him.

She paused in the hallway, then whirled around, that prickle running down her spine. Watched again? She half hoped it was Inkletter. But the area was empty.

At the heir’s door, she smoothed a smile onto her face and knocked. “Service for the room!”

Silence.

She raised her key but hesitated. Was Inkletter right about her? Did nothing matter to her except completing job after job until she eventually died with a useless fortune of gold? Would even a queen’s treasure never be enough?

Stop. Thinking. About. Him.

She unlocked the door and slipped inside, locking it behind her. Outside, clouds obscured the moon, and light rain fell. The windows remained open to the night to let in damp air; torches flickered across the silken chamber, casting shadows over red-draped walls.

“Service for the room,” she tried again.