Page 141 of Devoured

Pivoting away from him, I rub my temples, the pounding in my skull building to an agonizing crescendo. “I need you to go. And take Arielle with you. I don’t want her here.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re just going to leave her like this?” Calix stares at me in disbelief, and I force myself to meet his gaze. To feel every inch of his rising fury. “You know, I started to think you were still in there. I thought I was getting you back.” He scoffs. At himself. At me. “I don’t know who you are anymore, Sinclair, and maybe I never did.”

“Yes, you do. More than anyone else, you have always known who I am.” A bastard. A traitor.

A liar.

He begins to prowl around me like a predator on the hunt, and I don’t care. About him, about the atrocities, about the Mating Rite. I can’t care anymore.

The sooner I stop worrying about loving him, the easier this will be.

Coward, my brain hisses.

I wave the thought away. I lock it tight where I lock the rest of my regrets.

“Go,” I command.

He hesitates, however. “So help me, Sin, if you hurt anyone—”

“Vanessa,” I spit, unable to stop myself. Why should I tiptoe around them anymore? Why should I worry about their comfort over my own? “Say her name if you’re so concerned about her. If I hurt Vanessa, you’ll kill me. Is that it?”

Calix’s hands curl into fists as he tenses. “I’ve been trying to protect you.”

My mask breaks, and for the first time in my life, I can’t bring myself to put it back together, throwing my arms open in a wild gesture. “Protect me? You’ve barely been speaking to me!”

“Maybe that’s for a reason. Look at yourself, Sin. You’re pathetic.” He scowls, shakes his head in disgust. Stalking toward Arielle, he lifts the girl in his arms and carries her to the door. She doesn’t move a muscle. “Once the Mating Rite is finished…” He glares at me over his shoulder, scarlet eyes burning bright with finality. My heart sinks. “I’m leaving. I’ll find a lesser pack elsewhere. You can cast me out as a Lone Wolf. Whatever. I just can’t be around you anymore.”

All those years, all those memories, all those moments Calix and I shared—they collide as he stands there, holding Arielle, and waits for me to speak. They careen into one another and crash and break. Just like my heart.

Calix doesn’t know what’s coming. He doesn’t know what Arielle told me. He doesn’t know why I wouldn’t let her wake up.

And I don’t care to explain further. So I say nothing, and after another long moment, he shakes his head again. He turns. I let him walk out my door without another word. Then I prepare to commit another atrocity.

Perhaps the biggest atrocity yet.

46

VANESSA

PORTIA DIPS A FINE BRUSH INTO A POT OF SHIMMERING gold ink and draws soft, tender lines along my arms. Whorls from an ancient language glitter like trapped stars on my skin. They remind me what’s about to happen.

They remind me of death.

“You look beautiful.” She tilts my chin so that I’m forced to face the full-length mirror inside my strange new room.

Candlelight flickers behind me, wax melting and pooling on cold tiles as the midmorning sun crests the palm trees outside the arced window, casting St. Augustine in a soft springtime glow. The magic of the faerie realm outside Castle Severi has officially dimmed to a faint metallic taste on our tongues, accompanied only by the scent of Portia’s flowers. Beside every candlestick, flora blooms from vases, from cracks in the white walls, over translucent drapes and around a massive four-post bed.

This is the room I will have to share with Sin tonight.

If our plan fails.

I stare at my reflection, at the tiara sparkling on my head and the gown molded to my curves. The gilded bodice curls tight around my waist before spilling into a dramatic, delicate train, and I wish the candles would set it on fire. I wish this whole room would go up in smoke. I try to thank Portia for the compliment, but anxiety locks the words in my throat.

All I can do is breathe and try not to tremble. Try not to worry about how everything we’ve planned might end in a sickening spray of blood.

My stomach turns over, even as Portia squeezes my hands. “It’s going to be okay, Vanessa. A couple of hours, and we’ll be free.”

Her honesty might as well be ash in my veins. We need more than a couple of hours, but we’ve run out of time to plan. To make sure we haven’t made any mistakes. To make sure we haven’t played right into Cora’s hands.