Page 92 of Of Night and Blood: Special Edition

There would be no going back now. Fae were territorial, to say the least. When we loved, we did so abundantly and without restraint. There was no limit to what we would do for love, no line we would not cross. I had no idea if Bellamy’s demon side altered that, but I knew myself, and I had to be careful. I had a tendency to err on the side of dramatics.

Henry still stood there, eyes alight as I attempted to straighten Bellamy’s tunic. It was disheveled, and even my weaker nose could smell the scent of sex on it. It would have to do though. I shook out my hair, hoping that smoothing out the tangles with my fingers would hide the mess of his hands running through them all night.

The thought of his hands on me, in me, brought a fresh wave of arousal, flooding my cheeks with heat. I would need to fight that once I saw the wicked demon, or else everyone would definitely know.

“My oh my, I cannot wait to see what Bell does when you walk out looking as you do. I would bet fifty silvers that your little lover snaps when he hears Cyprus hit on you. Though, I would not be able to blame him, you look quite incredible. The sex glow is truly working in your favor, little brat,” Henry said, messing my hair once more and laughing as I slapped his hand away.

I gave a long-suffering sigh, having little confidence that he would find me boring and simply leave me to my stress.

Last night, as sleep overcame me, I had thought of what Bellamy was to me. Not a friend, not a husband, something strangely in between yet also far more. I had decided that he must tell me what it was he was hiding, that we would be nothing if he did not tell me everything. He promised that our arrival to the palace would lead to answers, and I would hold him to that.

Yet, I did wonder how he would act now that I had vowed to be his. It was not a simple thing to give, the heart. My body had been given before, but my love, that had only ever been awarded to Sipho. And it had ended in such tragedy that I feared what it would do to Bellamy and I. Especially when I told him of the choice I had made.

Henry seemed to think it would be entertaining to watch the prince squirm, though there was also some strange tension between the two that I had never understood. So perhaps he was hoping for a horrible ending, for Bellamy to fall. I had no idea, though I did not see Henry as the vindictive and hateful type.

“Why do you not like Bellamy?” I asked, my curiosity winning over my sensibility. It was not very respectful to outright ask, especially when Bellamy was not there to defend himself or tell his side. But I simply had to know.

He blanched, the confident stance he always held faltering. Oh, color me intrigued.

I pressed my power to the painfully bright barrier of his mind, caressing it with feather light touches. The demon relaxed, as if comforted by the way I sat at the edge of his consciousness. There was a tiny gap there, small enough to squeeze through. Then I was inside the vast expanse of his head.

I had always loved this, the way minds varied from being to being. How it felt to be inside of someone’s soul in this way, to truly know them. Three months ago, I would have hated myself for the way I enjoyed this feeling, but no longer.

I rather liked being the villain, as it turned out.

Henry’s mind had a tangy taste to it, the tip of my physical tongue could nearly sense it, though not quite. His mind was light not only from his Sun magic, but also because of who he was. Henry was an incredibly bright soul—a beautiful one.

Please, Henry, will you show me what I wish to know?

He complied, so quickly I nearly lost my footing in his mind. The memories raced, past our journey to Dunamis, past my arrival to Eoforhild, past Bellamy bringing me to the market of Haven.

I came to an abrupt halt in front of Bellamy, dressed in red finery, hair arranged perfectly, mischief in his eyes. This was the night of my introductory ball.

I saw Bellamy through Henry’s eyes, as it always worked when looking through the lens of another being’s memories. That also meant that I was privy to the thoughts that he had at the time of this discussion. As Bellamy looked into a large mirror, arranging his golden rings and straightening his jacket to perfection, Henry watched on.

I tugged the image, allowing myself to fall into it, embrace it. Suddenly it felt as if my conscious were falling, straight into that memory.

Bellamy was at it again. Lying, plotting. It was so very him. The only difference this time, was that he was not including me in those schemes. My best friend, my brother of sorts, leaving me out of something I could tell was monumental.

Never before had he dressed so impeccably for a trip to Betovere. What purpose was there to wear finery when rescuing the fae?

There was none, of course. No, he had other plans. And I wanted to know.

“Do share with the group why you are dazzling the needy fae with such an outfit,” I drawled, smirking at him through the mirror as he meticulously arranged his clothing.

He seemed…nervous. Strange.

He eyed me through the mirror as well, his mouth in that perpetual frown he had worn for the last few months. Bastard loved to ruin a good time before it began. So serious. This though, was something new entirely. Whatever he was not saying must have been juicy.

“I am taking her. Tonight,” he said, shoulders shrugging as if it were a trivial task.

I knew exactly who he meant, and it was no such thing. He planned to abduct the princess of Betovere looking like a twat? What would he do, charm the poor thing into submission?

I stared, mouth slightly agape. Idiot. Such a fucking idiot.

Finally, I snapped back into myself, shaking my head violently at the notion. He could not be serious.

Please, do not be serious.

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