Page 47 of Stroke of Shadows

A slight frown pinched his brows. “Driving you—”

“No, not here specifically.” She pushed strands of her hair from her face. “What are you doing with Wyatt?”

She didn’t want to believe the Gods would curse her, but he was right. What she did with him had been a sin not only in the eyes of her Gods, but also her uncle. It had been a stupid risk. A lapse in her judgement that has clearly come back to bite her.

“Wait, did you know who I was at the club?” Realisation sank in as anxiety clawed beneath her skin when he didn’t answer. “Was this entire thing planned?”

Sythe dipped his head, and she froze when his lips moved close enough to almost brush against hers. She waited for it, for him to close the gap like he had once before. Warmth melted the cold block of ice in her gut, even as hatred burned through her veins. Hatred for him, and for herself for wanting it anyway.

“Stay here. I’ll pull the car around.”

She opened her lips to respond, but Sythe had already moved, disappearing down the road just as the rain turned from gentle to a downpour.

She stared after him, her emotions a turmoil she couldn’t seem to regulate. She remembered his hands, and the way he whispered dirty promises. He’d been her first real experience with intimacy, and it had all been fake.

“So stupid,” she whispered, the rain drowning out her words. She could never be desired, not without that desire being tainted. She was nothing but a pretty bauble, to be used like a play piece because that was what she was taught to be.

Lifting her face to the grey sky, she allowed the water to wash everything away. She wouldn’t let her tears fall, not when no one deserved them.

She was just—

A grip on her upper arm, jerking her to the side. “You bitch!” an angry voice rumbled. “Where the fuck’s my painting?”

SYTHE

Sythe released his iron grip on the steering wheel, the leather wheezing in relief. The rain obscured the windscreen, forcing him to keep his speed slow or risk running over the pedestrians who thought they owned the fucking road.

I’m setting the next shipment up at the docks, and there’s no one to pick Harper up.

What happened to her drivers?

Shit’s going down, so her driver isn’t available. Think we have the possible rat, which means you need to pick her up and get her back to the house.

Fuck’s sake, I’ll sort her Highness. When and where?

A tic pulsed along his jaw. What the fuck was he doing? He was supposed to be staying away, not jumping at every opportunity to get closer. Weeks he’d been working with Wyatt and he hadn’t run into her a single time. Now it was twice in twenty-four hours.

Harper was a distraction he couldn’t risk.

And yet, she still dominated his thoughts.

Fuck.

He needed her to hate him with every ounce of her being, because there was only so long before he slipped and had another taste.

No other woman had ever held his attention for more than a single night. Once was enough, but with her he wanted to gorge. To feast until his hunger was finally sated. But that wasn’t going to happen. Their worlds were entirely different. She may be wrapped up in a pretty package, but she was still a Beauchamp. A follower of the Church of the Light and the niece of the fucking enemy.

She was forbidden.

‘Did you know who I was at the club?’ Her voice had quivered, her eyes bright with emotion. ‘Was this entire thing planned?’

Pain had sliced through his chest, but he’d purposely remained silent. Even hurt, she’d refused to look away, a stubborn strength in the way she lifted her chin. He’d felt compelled to move closer, to watch her lips part with desire, she tried so hard to compress.

She was definitely his personal poison, their mutual attraction something dark and toxic. Clearly a manipulation.

A raucous snarl, his beast pushing to the forefront of his mind. Rain sluiced across the windows, but even obscured, he could make out a larger figure huddling over Harper.

Mine. His beast roared as Sythe grit his teeth, the car barely rolling to a stop before his door was shoved open and his feet pounded the pavement.

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