I wrench my hand away from Rune's touch, my voice laced with venom as I address him. "Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Don't fucking look at me. You are their guest, not mine." Turning my fury towards my parents, I continue, "I can't believe you. The both of you."
“Boris!” I yell at my guard who my guard who seems oddly content in conversation with two lycan males by the door, dressed as regally as Rune. . .Is that Cass?
The idiot winks at me and his companion waves, snickering. What the hell is happening? Did everyone suddenly forget what happened at Lycanthia? Why does it seem like they are all in bed with him?
I spend the next few hours growling and pacing restlessly in my room, my frustration growing. I bite my fingers in my agitation, unable to contain my outrage. "He literally kidnapped me. I—I fainted, woke up in a room—I mean, he could've at least taken the ropes off... and the blindfolds too, though they were kinda nice and..." I shake my head, trying to dismiss the conflicting thoughts. Glancing at Boris, who I have subjected to the torture of listening to me rant for the past hour. He looks like he wants to be anywhere else but here. Well, too bad for him, because he's the only one I can speak to, and I need to release some steam. "That is not the point. Why is he here?"
Boris stares blankly at me. “Perhaps you could ask him that—“
“No,” I say, sucking in my thumb. “I talk to him and he’ll get it into his head that I am still interested in him—and I am not.”
Boris makes a small sound in his throat and my head snaps back. “What?”
He sniffs, thumb grazing his nostrils as he looks about my room with a funny expression. “Nothing.”
My eyes narrow. “Spit it out or I’ll have my father put you on watch duty over the wall.”
He pales, stumbling over his words. "No—I—It's just... You have barely spoken in the past month, or expressed any form of emotion. Looking after you became a routine of watching you deteriorate, become a ghost. His being here changed that in a matter of minutes, and though he is the reason you became this way, your parents possibly believed he could somehow... bring you back."
My jaw clenches, and my eyes well up with tears that I quickly avert. "They should've asked me first. This is my life. Not theirs. He hurt me—"
"And they feel the pain just as much as you do," Boris whispers, his words piercing my heart. "When you become a parent, you will understand the lengths they would go to prevent their daughter from dying inside out, because that is what is happening to you, Your Highness."
His words hit too close to home and I turn away hastily, hiding the single tear that escapes down my cheek. "Get out."
"Princess, I—"
"Leave. You forget yourself. Have someone else stand watch by my door. You are dismissed until I say otherwise."
Soft footsteps pad the floors and a shaky sigh escapes me when the door shuts behind him. My fingers rise to my stomach, flattening against it. I don’t care what they thought. No one could possibly understand the pain I have felt more than me. I still see the look on his face as he watched my parents take me from his home.
That day, I shattered in a way that cannot be repaired with mere words or a touch from the man who tore my life apart. There were days I cursed my luck, deemed myself unfortunate. There were days Sloan’s pain got so bad, I passed out, and in the event that I didn’t pass out, I wished for death.
Whatever could have been between us is irreparably ruined, beyond any hope of mending. Rune will never get close to me again, never have a chance to try. He killed us, and if there is anything I am certain of in this world, it is that things that die stay dead.
Convince me otherwise? Not in a million years.
My parents are gravely mistaken if they believe Rune is the reason I emerged from that dark place, the reason I want to live again. My fingers stroke my belly lovingly. I am keeping this child. Let it be my anchor, my source of strength. Let it help me move on, to cling to life and grow stronger.
It will be our secret, yours and mine. At least until I'm certain that revealing it won't result in me being shipped off to Lycanthia in a box adorned with bows and glistening wrappings of colors I despise.
Father will learn to respect my wishes and decisions. This time, I will have my way. Rune won’t get what he wants—to shatter what little remains of me.
**************
Three days.
That's all it took to break me.
It began with the orders. Instead of having my meals brought to my room, Father insisted I join them in the dining hall. A carefully orchestrated plan to force Rune and me into the same space since I refused to leave my room to see anyone. I rejected every summons, every plea, every knock on my door, and every visit from Rune. Now, he has resorted to starving me.
I should have been able to withstand it, but I can't. Perhaps it's the child growing within me.
My stomach growls angrily and I wince at the bite in it. One more day of this, and I will lose my mind.
"This is important," I remind myself as I descend the spiraling staircase, my fingertips grazing the railing. The dining area stretches out before me—a vast space adorned with opulent furniture and walls painted in shades of ivory, white, and a deep red that verges on black. When I reach the base of the stairs, all eyes are upon me.
I sense Rune watching me even before I look up. When Rune looks at it, you feel it in your soul. It burns you, leaving behind scorched marks as imprints on your body and your fucking soul.
And when our eyes finally meet, a volcano erupts somewhere, intensifying the temperature to an unbearable degree. His eyes sweep over my form, once, twice, before settling on my hair, cascading in crimson curls down my shoulders. Slowly, his gaze locks with mine, then drifts to my lips painted in blood-red lipstick.
His nostrils flare, his jaw clenches. I stare at him hard and long enough to notice the slight hitch in his breath and the dilation of his pupils when his gaze drops to the swell of my breasts, accentuated scandalously by the dress I wear, made even more pronounced by the corset that pushes them upward. They bounce with every movement, and Rune's gaze smolders me.
The corset had been an afterthought, mostly because I felt a little fat when I awoke this morning—though, I know it is all in my head—and the dress was the only thing in my dresser that wasn’t too tight to fit.
Now, I can't decide if I regret my choice or if I'm grateful for it. Regret because Rune is devouring me with his stare, and having everyone witness it makes my cheeks burn. Gratitude because it should make him suffer. Seeing what could have been his. Seeing what he has lost for good.
His eyes drop to my hips and I let them sway, left and right as I approach the table, breaking eye contact. Of course, the only free seat available is beside him.
"Father, Mother," I greet them coolly, allowing them to witness the full extent of my anger in my glare.
A small smile tugs at Father's lips. "Sit. Have dinner with us."
"I'm already here," I mutter under my breath, hating myself for succumbing to hunger. I attempt to pull out a chair, but Rune springs up from his seat, taking it from me and holding it out with a grand display of chivalry—the best act I've ever seen.
"You shouldn't--"
"Piss off," I growl, snatching the chair from beneath him. I have little patience for his stupid antics tonight. I am hungry and angry. That has never been a good combination for me before.
Rune chuckles. "Whatever makes you happy, wife."
If I had any doubts before, they vanish now. He keeps saying that word to get under my skin. I won't let him have that satisfaction.
Settling into my chair, I fight to ignore the sight of Rune, his head propped up on his fist, studying me with the same amusement he displayed when my parents fought to get me out of his home. "You don't look well."
Right, because that's new.
I don't reply, my eyes tracing the trays of food carried by the maids, arranged meticulously along the table. The tantalizing aroma of rich spices and roast lamb dances in the air, teasing my senses, and my stomach growls loudly, embarrassing me in this tense moment.
"Astrid," my father begins, his voice weighted with a mix of concern and authority, while Mother busies herself with filling his plate and watching us silently. "Rune tells me you have refused to see him."
My gaze meets my father's, unyielding. "And why should I?"
A muscle tightens in Father's jaw, a clear sign of his growing frustration. Well, that makes two of us. "You must. The terms of the treaty will be finalized soon, and it requires the binding of both your bloods. Once it is done, you will be returning to Lycanthia with him."
"I will not," I declare, punctuating my words with a forceful jab of my fork into the succulent lamb at the center of my plate. The maid holding the tray of soup beside me flinches and takes a step back, her fear clouding the air around us.
"I have spoken to him," Father persists, gaze unwavering. "He has assured me you will be treated right. He has bent the knee in apology, and I deem it sincere enough. I understand you are angry, but cannot act like a child. You are bound now. For how long will you keep this up?"
"Act like a child?" I sneer, my voice laced with bitter resentment. "You fought to rescue me from them, only to hand me back to him based on empty promises?"
A touch, warm and unwelcome, grazes the tip of my ear, and I instinctively jerk away as Rune attempts to tuck a stray strand of hair behind it. I smack his hand off. "What part of 'don't touch me' do you not understand?!"
His lips curve into a maddening smirk. "You look quite delicious when you're mad."
The fuck? I grip my fork tighter, trying to decide if killing him would be worth it.
His grin widens like he can read my thoughts and he gives me a look that says, I dare you.
He adds before I can let my thoughts run wild, "Aren't you in the least curious to know what I might have said to your father that changed his mind?"
My teeth bare, and I snarl, "No."
With lightning speed, his hand shoots out, gripping my chin firmly. He leans in, heedless of the fact that we are surrounded by others—my parents, his friends, the guards, and maids who suddenly find the walls fascinating.
I notice the glint of silver flecks in his eyes as he moves closer, until our noses almost touch. "I told him it was torture to exist without you. The pain you felt was my pain, insurmountable. You took a fragment of my soul with you that day."
He might have convinced me, swayed my resolve, with those lies, if only he hadn't uttered the next words. "I told him I loved you."