Page 66 of Devoured

Calix Severi opens the door.

“You said we would meet at eleven; it’s twelve—”

The accusation vanishes as Calix glances at me. At me and Sin and our hands intertwined. The girl behind him, Arielle, blinks wide doe eyes at us. Their combined surprise—and the sharp gust of Calix’s undeniable fury—elicits an almost electric shock in me. I try to bolt upright. I try to stand.

But I forget that, even though the flesh around my ankles and wrists has knit itself back together, my bones aren’t fully recovered yet. I can’t stand.

My knees buckle the second I throw myself off the bed. Sin dives across the mattress to stop me, but he’s too late. Calix reaches me first.

In one blink, Calix lunges from the doorway to my side and catches me. His hands grip my waist, his forearms coiling tight around me as he pulls me into his chest. His red gaze flashes, dangerously hot, and drops to my scarred wrists as I attempt to curl my hands in his shirt to steady myself. But a dull, throbbing ache twists my bones, and I’m forced to release him.

His glare flicks back to my face, less than an inch from his now. “What happened?”

I don’t understand how he doesn’t already know. He wasn’t gone when the queen locked me up. Even Portia was aware. Maybe that’s why I shudder with anger. Or maybe I’m not shuddering at all. Maybe I’m shaking because his fingers are still curled into my waist, and I can feel every inch of him against me.

I lift my chin and narrow my eyes. “What do you think, Calix?”

He continues to stare at me, so I continue to stare at him. Neither of us moves. I don’t care that Sin walks toward us, or that Arielle cowers in the doorway, fiddling with her hair and squirming like a child. When Calix touches me like this, looks at me like this, it’s as if nothing else exists. Nothing except anger, torment, and hellfire.

“The queen,” I snap, trying futilely to shove away from him. “The dungeon you claimed no one uses.”

“She did this to you?”

“Yes. I’m taking care of it.” Sin places a hand on my back as if to help me away, but Calix refuses to let me go. “Take your hands off my mate, Cousin.”

Calix finally wrenches his gaze from mine, turning his glare on Sin. “How could you let this happen?”

Sin stiffens, and his fangs flash white. “I was gone. You know she wouldn’t have been down there otherwise. I rescued her as soon as I heard.”

“Sin—her wrists.” Calix lightly runs a finger over one of the jagged pink marks that encircle my wrists and ankles.

“I healed her myself. She’s recovering quickly.”

“I stopped bleeding after twelve hours,” I offer unhelpfully.

Calix shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “I didn’t know, Vanessa. I would’ve—”

“It’s fine. I survived.”

Frowning, he lifts my hand. “You call this survival?”

“Come on.” Sin wraps an arm around my middle. “Let her go, Calix.”

Calix releases me into Sin’s arms with a soft exhale. He doesn’t look at me again. Instead, he turns toward Arielle, and his gaze softens. It takes everything in me not to clench my hands into fists. A sickly green spark of jealousy heats the blood in my veins. I don’t deserve to feel jealous. I shouldn’t feel jealous. But why doesn’t he look at me with that sort of kindness?

“You can come in,” he tells her.

“What?” I blurt. “Why—”

Sin helps me sit on the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry. We can trust her.”

I glance at Calix with an incredulous expression. They can’t be serious. I don’t know Arielle. I don’t know who she is, where she’s from. Only that she’s another of Cora’s werewolves, and, for some inexplicable reason, Calix has taken her under his wing. Have they lost their minds?

“Hi.” Arielle steps hesitantly into the room, her arms crossed and her eyes cast on the floor. “I’m Arielle. I—”

“You don’t need to say anything else,” Calix says. “Don’t ever tell anyone here more than you need to.”

My mouth drops open. “Anyone here”? So now Calix doesn’t trust me? My voice quakes with unrepressed anger. “I’m not going to hurt her, Calix.”