Page 63 of Manacled Hearts

“Aren’t you supposed to be leaving in a few minutes?” Morrigan asks her husband.

“Change of plans. They’re coming here.” Vincent presses a quick kiss on her lips, but my mind is spiraling.

They? Who’s they? Carter, Maddox… Finnigan?!

The echo of his name inside my mind awakens the visceral urge that’s been making a home inside of me. A beast growing hungrier each day, but it’s a picky bitch. I’ve already decided that my life will not stop just because of what happened to me. I may not give into the hunger wholly, but I need something to sustain me. The problem is, I can only bear the thought of one person feeding it. But he sees me as unripe, forbidden fruit.

My thighs squeeze together at the thought of making him change his mind, and I have a ridiculous need to go check my new hair in the mirror. I’ve seen the women he takes out… none of them look like me.

“I have no idea, but he did sound… strange.” Vincent’s words pull me back into the room, and I’m kicking myself for missing part of the conversation.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised. Did you notice something three days ago?” Morrigan asks.

“When? The day before your birthday?”

“Yeah. Because at the party I noticed he was a bit different. I don’t know, I just noticed some passing looks.”

“Hmm…” Vincent looks away, pondering the question. “No, I don’t think so. But he was quiet yesterday.”

Morrigan shrugs. “But then again, none of this is out of character for him, right?”

“Right. I’m sure everything’s fine, and even if it isn’t, I’ll handle it.”

Morrigan’s face lights up, and she wraps her arms around Vincent’s waist, looking up at him. There’s so much love in her gaze, it almost hurts. Yet, it’s the adoration in his that hits the hardest. The dark pits of his eyes sparkle with the stars she put there. He may have hung the moon for her, but she filled the sky with stars for him. In the last six weeks or so, I’ve been spending enough time with Morrigan to grow to understand that my view of her world—their world—was very inaccurate.

I was in Morrigan’s apartment once when her husband returned from a job. Only, the person who passed through the door wasn’t Vincent, but The Serpent. There was a look in his eyes that could stop the flow of my blood, cold and vengeful, ready to rip the world apart so he could punish whoever filled him with that simmering rage. But then his pitch black eyes landed on Morrigan… and his gaze flipped, but did not change. Now he looked at her like he would rip the world apart at her signal, only because she desired it.

Their paradox is what made me question my judgment. My preconceptions.

I’ve known evil. Felt it on my skin. But them… they’re a whole other brand. I understand this world much better now. It’s not black and white as I thought. Not all villains are the same shade, and these… they scare me.

Downright terrify me at times. Because more and more they make me feel like I belong.

And the more I think of the man who took me, the one who haunts my nightmares and ruins my dreams, the more I start to believe that I do belong with The Sanctum. Because the things I would like to do to Frankie certainly do not fit in the brand of person I thought I was. It’s all a moot point, because I can’t stay in Queenscove, not when I have a responsibility in Fleeton.

“Evie…” My sister comes in from the patio.

I know that voice. It’s her I’m gonna play cute and put on a sweet voice so I can get something I’m not supposed to have voice.

“Yes, Maya?” I turn to her, crossing my arms over my chest, ready to be stern, but I burst out laughing instead when I see her sweet little face. “Did you just smash your face into that cake and forget about the spoon?”

Her eyes go wide, and she quickly goes to both lick and wipe the cream and crumbs stuck to her face. She did something similar with her own birthday cake a few weeks back, when she turned eight.

“Maybe?” she says innocently. “Look, it was delicious.”

“And let me guess, you want another piece.”

Her little dimples make an appearance as she looks between me and Mamaw June in the hopes that at least one of us will say yes. I can’t help it, the happiness I put on her face makes me give in. I’m already turning to the cake platter when she continues.

“It’s been so long since you baked. I don’t know if you’ll stop again, so I have to take advantage.”

I cut a small piece, pop it on her plate, and she all but runs back on the patio. Like I’ll take it back from her if she doesn’t move fast enough.

“What did she mean by that?” Morrigan asks.

“I protected her as much as I could, so it seems she believes that I chose to stop baking.”

“And that’s not the case?”

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