Page 57 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
“Your friend who betrayed you—he feared your anger, your justified rage. It made you too spiky and salty for him to swallow down whole, when he wanted something smooth and sweet.”
I was naked, but now I felt it even more—like his words had flayed the flesh from my bones.
“But rage isn’t sweet. And people shouldn’t be.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I like your salt and your sharpness—your unyielding stone that takes everything and still stands.”
He liked something about me—and was admitting it. Saltwater splashed into my gaping mouth.
With a blink, he shook his head as though waking. Taking a few strokes into deeper water, he ended our conversation.
And what an odd conversation it had been.
As I puzzled over it, he swam around and dived, always throwing a glance my way when he surfaced. After a few minutes, the water seemed less chilly. Maybe my body was just shutting down again, like it had in the snow. I threw him a reproachful look when he next came into view.
Eyebrows clenched, he swam over. “You’re not enjoying yourself, are you?”
“Whatever gave you that impression?”
“What did you do before you became mine?”
I frowned. “What do you mean? You know I was a performer.”
“No, I mean other than that. For fun.”
Fun? I blinked at him and shook my head. What was he getting at?
“Hobbies?” He raised his eyebrows, prompting. “Entertainment?”
The longer I remained quiet, the more intense his gaze grew, until I had to look away, watching my fingers skim over the water’s surface.
“I just…” No, there was nojustto it. “I worked. Hard. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.” I gave him a mocking smile. “Between rehearsals, performances, helping with equipment, and travelling from place to place, I was too busy for fun. I spent all my time working and dreaming about revenge. And I drew. See? I have a hobby. I filled dozens of sketchbooks over the years.”
His lips flattened, the expression out of place on a face that was usually lit with amusement or cruelty. “What a sad life.” But he didn’t say it in a teasing tone.
He said it withsincerity.
The shock of that—the horror of it kept me quiet.
“I applaud the revenge, of course.” His mouth twisted, closer to the expression I’d come to expect from him. “But I’ve seen your sketchbooks. That wasn’t a hobby. That wasn’t fun. It wasobsession.”
My movements went jerky as I kept my head above water. He’d looked at my sketchbooks? He’d opened up my chest and gone through my things? How dare he? That was mine—private.
“So, work and revenge? That’s really it?” He canted his head. “When did you laugh? When did you give a smile that wasn’t for your audience? When did you find pleasure in your life and the world around you?”
With the cut of every word, my breaths became a little deeper, a little harder. I sculled away from him.
The furrow of his brow deepened as he searched my gaze. “It’s all so…small. And yet, you don’t even see that, do you?”
What, did he expect me to agree with him? He didn’t understand. He was a prince. What the hells did he know about what was required to live in the real world and earn money?
My feet found sandy ground, and I kept backing away, needing to put distance between myself and the cruellest words he could ever give me. If I stayed, I might try to claw him to death with my bare hands, and we all knew how that would go.
“You’re someone who should have a big life, Zita. Huge. Not the stunted thing you’ve been nursing.”
I opened and closed my mouth, but no witty retort came. I spun and splashed to shore, blood blazing. “Fuck you.”
The words tore my throat because they meant that in this battle, I’d lost.
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