Page 65 of Devoured

A truth. A stupid, fragile truth.

As soon as Cora won him over again, he would turn on me in a second.

Mustering up enough strength, I lift one of my mangled hands and attempt to slap him across the face. Though I prepare for the impact to splinter my wrist, for another searing eruption of pain, Sin captures my forearm before I can land the blow.

“Are you out of your mind?” Bile stings my tongue as I fight his grasp, but he doesn’t release me. He’s still watching my every movement. “No. I didn’t poison anyone, you asshole. How dare you? Your mother just tortured me for days. Do you really think I could have… no. I didn’t poison those werewolves.” I suck in a sharp breath—harsh enough to sound like the start of a cry—and bite my lip. He drops my forearm then.

Lie, lie, lie.

“This is what’s wrong with us,” I say. “Your mother is always going to be right here, in between us, tearing us apart.” I turn my cheek away from him, blinking rapidly. I can only hope it looks like tears.

“Vanessa—”

“If I could walk right now, I’d storm out of here.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing! It doesn’t mean anything. I just want you to do better. I can’t keep living like this.”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” he says, and I’m as relieved as I am angry. His breath warms my ear as he growls. “I keep screwing up.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He laughs at that, and I’m glad. It means he’s stopped suspecting me. I’ve won this round. Evie would be proud of me—if she’s even here. If she’s not in Guatemala trying on wedding gowns for a man she most definitely does not want to marry. I hate Sin. I hate him most of all for making me hate him.

One of his hands slips down the bed and finds my own. His fingers touch mine so gently it might not even be real. “Rest,” he says. “You need to try and heal. Even if you can’t sleep, the less you move your body, the faster you’ll recover. You should be able to stand in a day or two.”

“Fine,” I say, forcing an overwrought sigh. “But only because I can’t exactly get up and storm away.”

“Would it help if I pretended you just slammed the door in my face?”

“Maybe.”

He fixes an expression of childlike sadness on his handsome face, and I hate the responding smile that twitches on my lips.

“Better?” he asks, his own eyes alight with a genuine sort of glee.

“Yes,” I say—and wish desperately that it wasn’t a lie. Being here with Sin—pretending not that I’m upset, but that everything is normal between us—is easier than anything else has been in months.

So I lie here with him, and I don’t bother asking him to leave.

25

VANESSA

SIN AND I DON’T TALK ABOUT GUATEMALA OR EVIE again. We just exist. Sometimes in silence, but mostly we talk about movie theaters he’s snuck into or television shows my father would force me to watch. He tells me his new favorite book is Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland because of the limitless possibilities, and I try to describe the cartoon movie in great detail. He asks what mortal school is like, and I tell him Celeste used to write test answers on her hand to cheat, but—because we live in Florida where it’s hotter than the surface of the sun—they’d always smear from her sweat into a blur of ink before she made it to class. He laughs at that and says Calix would never let him cheat.

“How would he stop you?” I ask.

“He wouldn’t have to. He would just tell me to quit, and I would listen. I never wanted to disappoint him.” He frowns for a moment, but I nudge him with my shoulder. I’m trying not to think too deeply. Honestly, I’m trying not to think at all. For once, hallucinations aren’t plaguing me. The consequences of our decisions aren’t haunting us.

We talk until the sky darkens behind his curtain and then rises again.

Part of me doesn’t want it to end. I don’t want to keep counting the seconds as they pass by, like a clock ticking down to a bomb. I want to stay here. Right here. Without death or blood or war. Just me and Sin. Not a werewolf. Not a prince. Just a girl and a boy and limitless possibilities.

Of course, we aren’t that fortunate. Reality explodes exactly when I least expect it.

As Sin explains the differences between Realm of Superiority faeries and the fairies in Peter Pan, a rough knock rattles the door. Sin glances at me, raising a finger to his lips, but the knocking doesn’t cease. It only grows more furious with each rap, until someone on the other side growls and twists the handle.