Page 89 of Barbi and the Villain

“The female who should have been my mate.”

The words aren’t spoken with malice or a hint of accusation. It’s just an observation, and that makes it all the more painful to hear.

My heart slams against my ribcage as I stare at him. I gulp down against the wave of emotions threatening to spill over.

Pain strikes in my breast, leaving me gasping for air as I try to maintain my composure lest he sees how much those words affected me.

So Mo was a woman.

I suspected as much, but to have it confirmed feels like a thousand bullets have pierced my body all at once.

It’s just a silly crush, Barbi! You’ll get over it.

I try to convince myself of that, but the truth is, the more time I spend in his presence, the less it feels like a silly crush and more like…

My lips tremble as I stretch them in a nonchalant smile.

“So you’re not gay?” I ask jokingly in an attempt to hide my hurt.

“No.” A smile pulls at his lips.

“So when we get to Tartareia, someone should be able to help us sever our bond?”

He nods.

Hope blooms in my chest. I will nurture this crush until then and enjoy this adventure for however long it lasts. And when it’s time to say goodbye… I will just have to be strong enough to be able to utter the words aloud.

“The elders should know what to do.”

“Good. Then let’s get this artifact! The faster we get it, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”

“You are eager to get rid of me now?” He raises an amused brow.

I smile as I flutter my lashes.

“I might have liked you a tiny bit before I realized you would condemn the universe to a wretched fate just to get revenge against your brother. Now…” I shake my head.

“It is better we reach an understanding before we move forward,” he starts in a stern voice. “My only purpose is to avenge Mo. I do not care about the world or what happens after I have killed my brother.” He pauses, his gaze finding mine. “I am not a good person, Barbi, nor do I desire to be one.”

Lucky you, Mo. Nykander would literally bring about the apocalypse for you. Maybe it’s a tad bit extreme, but I can’t deny that the romantic in me is ready to swoon at his declaration.

The rational part of me, though?

Dear Lord, I got accidentally mated to a goddamn psycho!

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” I wave my hand around dismissively. “I’ll just tag along until we break our bond and then we’ll never see each other again,” I quip happily, though the pretense is costly.

Why does my chest feel so tight?

Why does it feel as if I swallowed pieces of broken glass, the sharp edges stuck in my throat, clogging it and making it bleed until I’m overflowing with blood on the inside?

I do not have an answer for why I feel that way, but I fear I may know the cause.

It is a plague. The most widespread plague.

And I have finally caught it.

Unfortunately, my demise will not be swift. It will be slow and torturous, each minute creating a new wound on my poor heart.

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