Page 13 of Of Gods and Pain

I’m dizzy.

At least they should be relatively safe until I can find a way to break his hold on them. I will do everything I can to help them before he uses them against their will, for a cause they want no part in.

I see the moment they’re released, as they all stand in unison and the soldiers step aside to allow them out of the castle. Relieved wouldn’t come close to describing what I’m feeling. I’m glad they can go back to their homes, unlike the staff who have been here for decades under his control. I feel horrible for ever questioning Fen, and then just dismissing her when she didn’t answer me. She couldn’t. She’s not here by choice, nor is she allowed to say anything against the prince. None of them are.

“Come, my sweet.” My eyes snap to Andras; he’s watching me carefully, his hand outstretched in invitation. He’s giving me a choice. A minute ago, I would have stood here and took his punishment for the defiance, but after witnessing what he did to the four innocent fae for doing the same thing? This is a choice that’s not worth my life. I’ll hold on to that choice for a while longer and wait to use it at the right time.

So I step forward and grab his hand, letting him lead me out of the empty room; I risk a look back, giving Bren the best smile I can to let him know that I’m okay. Better me than him. Any of them.

We walk quickly, as if he’s late for something and must get there right this instant. Instead of going underground, we stride toward the back of the castle.

It’s okay, Nell. You can handle him fucking you. At least it’s better than skinning your back, like he did yesterday.

A thought hits me like a brick wall…he still hasn’t taken back control over me. He’s most likely running as low on magic as I am. This could be my chance, so I need to play into whatever he’s about to do. I need to enjoy it.

But my inner plans stutter when we step into his rooms; my eyes widen as I take in the only space in this entire castle decorated with color.

Red.

The white walls have red paintings, one of which is this castle being rained on with deep, crimson water. I spot his bedding in the next room. It's such a deep red that it’s nearly black. His couch, though, is blood red. Bright and placed in the center of the room, in front of a mantel that looks like it was colored with something other than paint. I shiver at the thought of how he did that.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Andras’s soft voice startles me, and I spin to find him watching me take in this disturbing space. I can’t tell him that, though.

“It is.”

His eyes narrow, and he slowly steps forward, testing me. I don’t move. Instead, I give him lazy, contented eyes, showing him I’m not afraid in this moment. He stops just a breath in front of me, his chest almost grazing mine. Pushing a strand of hair over my shoulder, he takes in my state; eyes trailing over my bloodied collarbone, heaving breasts, and curves that couldn’t hide under this dress no matter how hard I tried. I won’t try, though; I want him to look at me. Want me.

“Nell,” his raspy voice causes hairs to rise on my skin. “We could have everything together. You could be my queen; you deserve such a title after the way your parents treated you.” I faintly recall telling him about my 'difficult' upbringing when I first visited Earth.

Gods, I was stupid.

Now is not the time to berate myself; I need to convince him that I feel the same way. “You want that?” I look down and keep my voice timid.

“I’ll admit, not at first. But when you came back on your own, with no memory of me…yes, I did. I could see how you felt for me, and I began to feel so deeply for you, too. Nell, we were meant for each other, don’t you see? Two gods, sent down to this retched realm by the others because they didn’t want either of us.”

Fuck, he’s delusional. He started a war, and I’m here to complete training like every other god has to. We are not the same.

“If you want me so badly, why do you continue to hurt me?” I let my words waver, ducking my head to feign sadness.

His revolting fingers grab my chin with the gentleness I knew from him before I got my memories back. He lifts my head, my eyes meeting a swirling blue. “What else would you have me do, my sweet?” It’s concerning—though not surprising—how genuine his question is. “You ran from me at the earliest opportunity and fought me when I found you at GodsPass. You’ve left me no choice.”

My instinct is to swing my elbow and knock his stupidly sharp jaw off his face, but I hold myself still. I let him see the betrayal in my eyes as I say my next words.

“Andras…you hurt me before I did any of those things. When I first got here, I was ready to spend the next thirty years with you. I was falling in love with you so quickly, but then you took my magic and tortured me. You kept me locked in Chago for two decades, thinking I was someone completely different while you had Imogen feed bullshit to me under the guise of helping me.

“Then when I came back here with no memory of you, you hit me the very first time I tried to make a decision for myself, even though I was falling for you again. I would have come back to you. How could I not fight you after all of that?”

His forehead creases as he processes everything I just told him; does he honestly not believe anything he did was wrong? No matter, he’s questioning everything, so I keep pressing.

“Andras, I fell in love with you twice. I would have done anything for you—been anyone you wanted me to be—if you just hadn’t used me the way you did. I felt betrayed.” I tap my chest for effect. “In here.”

Sorrow takes over his face. “I didn’t realize you felt that way…I thou—I thought you always hated me.” He’s insecure about this. He sounds lonely, too…like he genuinely wants me by his side. He’s clearly upset about what he did; about what we could have had if he made different decisions. He wants someone to share all of this with.

Too bad I don’t give a fuck.

“I never hated you. I needed you, Andras,” I whisper, forcing my palms to graze his chest. I look up at him through my lashes, praying to the rest of the gods that he takes the bait.

He does. Because in the next moment his lips are on mine. I want to gag; I want to scrub my lips and tongue with soap until they’re raw and bleeding, just to make sure every bit of him is off me. I can’t, though. This could be my only chance to get out of here. So I pretend I’m kissing Casmir and Emrys, switching between their soft, warm, comforting mouths.

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