Page 116 of Every Shade of Shadow

“Are we all forgetting I was petrified, against my will here?” Cassandra snorts.

Lily rolls her eyes. “Honestly, I’d petrify you if I could.”

The fucking high road—my favorite, but if I don’t try to simmer Cassandra down she’s going to do something stupid like go to the Headmistress and then Darkwood really will kill her, and that blood will be on my hands.

I don’t want that.

So I tell her, “I’m sorry.”

She looks surprised. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry, Cassandra. I’m sorry that happened to you, and I’m sorry you were forced to watch, but you cannot tell anyone, and I think you know why.”

Her lips press together, but she remains silent.

I look to the others and cannot stand the way they’re examining me now, as if I’m a stranger, someone they don’t know. “It’s complicated, okay? I didn’t approve of what he did then any more than I approve of it now, and I took no pleasure in having Cassandra watch.”

There’s truth in this—at least some of it, but if I examine myself there is guilt there, because I could have better articulated to Damien how uncomfortable I was, expressed my feelings like I did with the whole Sab-being-gang-raped-by-shadows thing. And the mind-control thing? Can I not see what is going on here? Am I that blinded by my own selfish desire?

Everyone’s quiet, the mood, which was almost jovial before, gone.

I thumb behind myself. “I’m just going to go.”

No one argues as I leave. Even Cassandra stays silent.

I get back to my room still wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I’m in a twisted, fucked-up relationship with someone who’s clearly manipulating me, with a man who clearly doesn’t have an issue being cruel for almost no reason.

I hold up the card that was waiting on my bed with its usual words, its invitation.

Will I be on the receiving end of that cruelty if I go?

It’s almost certain, but I want more than anything to be punished. Tonight, I deserve it.

Still, I need to be careful around him, to keep my guard up.

Lest I end up like the others.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Why the hell am I here?

Question numero uno, alright.

He answers the door in a black shirt cut down the middle to show off the chiseled valley of his chest and the inky canvas it has become. It takes me a moment to drag my eyes up to his.

I don’t know what I see in them. Malice? Lust?

I enter and wait as always, though this time there is a barrier between us—the unsaid.

He nods at this, slowly rolling his sleeves up. “Would you like me to deal with her?”

“Who?”

He looks to me. “Cassandra. I did warn her.”

I shake my head, though the idea of her being peeled alive is not entirely repulsive. “No, it’s fine.”

Sleeves rolled, he crosses his arms. “I’m not what you think, not what the others believe.”

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