Page 133 of The Sinner's Bargain

“Are you out of your fucking minds?”

The rest of his rage faded with the distance. The snap of my heels sounded infinite in the brittle silence. I attempted to break it, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

We arrived all too quickly and Cyrus set my things up on Thoran’s desk. He said nothing even as he moved to stand in the open doorway with his back to me.

“You don’t have to stay,” I told him, knowing he probably should be with Vance and Oliver to keep Thoran from killing them.

“I’m fine here. Thank you.”

I didn’t push.

His presence was almost soothing as I scooted closer to my plate and started eating. I watched the darkness outside. The smudged blur of wilderness was barely noticeable in the far distance. There was no sign of the gardens from Thoran’s office or his bedroom. I still didn’t have my bearings, but I guessed it was further towards the other side of the house.

I finished my supper. I cleaned the whole plate. Not wanting to give Thoran any more reason to be angry.

I was working on my wine when a card caught my eye. It lay on a pile of folders, partially askew as if tossed there carelessly. The familiar lace edging and crisp, dark design had me reaching for it even though part of me already knew what it was.

Mother had made me write out the names of every person she wanted invited to the wedding. I had spent hours scrolling with clean, precise loops with Mother looming over my shoulder, watching for even the tiniest deformity. My hand and back had throbbed for days afterwards. My fingers had become claws I couldn’t unfurl.

But it was my thighs that had taken the worst of the punishment. Mother’s method to keep me focused, keep my hand steady was a leather crop that made a smart crack against skin when she was displeased. Even through the thin fabric of my dress, it had left red, angry welts.

I shook out of the nightmare and stared at the weighted invitation with my name prominently next to Jarrett’s.

A cold, slimy feeling crawled into my stomach as I traced the curves and edges of the name I’d given Thoran in a moment of weakness not two hours ago just in that room while this was on his desk.

Did he know?

Had he put the pieces together?

Did he not care?

I didn’t understand, but I shot a glance towards Cyrus still in the doorway, hands clasped at his back, giving me all the privacy he could and gingerly slipped the invitation into the trash with the other discarded scraps of paper someone would empty in the morning. I moved a few crumpled pieces on top to cover it completely before sitting back.

It won’t matter, I thought to myself. That was the proof that Thoran knew Jarrett well enough to get invited to the wedding. They were friends. Eventually, Jarrett would visit, and I would be there like some trophy for Thoran to just hand over.

But Thoran wouldn’t. I knew it as certainly as I knew Jarrett was a bastard, that Thoran would never. Still, those tiny thorns of doubt cut at me.

As if summoned by the sheer power of my crumbling sanity, the man controlling my every heartbeat stalked into the room. Golden eyes on me the moment he rounded the door.

“Leave,” he told Cyrus without a pause.

Cyrus did, shutting the door behind him.

I shot to my feet. “I finished everything,” I said, gesturing to the empty plate. “Cyrus saw me—”

Hard arms closed around my waist in a desperate embrace that practically lifted me up off the floor. The side of my neck was filled by his face. He crushed me into his chest with such need I gasped.

“Thoran?”

His hold tightened. “Just a moment, Blue.”

My heart clapped at the torn shreds of my pet name soaking into the hammering pulse at my neck. My arms rose and encircled his shoulders. My fingers wove into his hair. Every fear I’d had clawing around inside me seconds before vanished as if they never existed.

“What is it?” I whispered into the side of his neck. “What’s wrong?”

“Need you, baby. Just fucking need you.”

I pressed him closer when he trailed off. “I’m here.”

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