Page 14 of His Bride

“No.”

“I’m locking it away.”

A harsh sound escapes. “I’m not a prisoner, am I?”

“You can have a call at five. Do they still have a talking clock? Or maybe you’ve got some stupid boyfriend you like to swap virginal stories with. Though we both know you’re not that. Or maybe you want to call your father.”

“I want my phone. There’s a hot new version of Snake Out I want to try, see how it compares to the real thing.”

He smiles. “Well, it’s longer, the game version, but nowhere near as much fun for you, or as thick as the real-life one.”

It takes me two seconds to latch on to the sexual meaning. “For reference, I was calling you a snake.” I won’t be taken by scraps of what he likes to call charm, no matter how lonely and lost I feel. “Snake.”

“Look, New York, I’m…” He stops, breathes out. “I can’t have you calling your dad or even your brother.”

“I told you I won’t tell my father anything. And I know this is a new concept to you, but some of us actually keep our word.”

“Still. Can’t chance it. There’s a high probability I’ll piss you off, and I can’t risk you running off to Daddy with all my secrets.”

“If that’s the case, I would have done that already since you piss me off daily.”

“How’s that possible when I’ve hardly been around you for the last two weeks?” He cocks a brow. “Is that it, New York? You miss me?”

I clench my hands, that familiar feeling of hate and lust grinding at my ribs. “You know what? Fuck you.” I grab my phone and slap it at his chest then push past him.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“Out.” I stalk down the hall, and he strides behind me, all the way to the foyer.

“You can’t leave the grounds.”

“I’m aware. I plan on finding the farthest point from you and decaying there until I’m forced to see your face again.”

“Decaying? That’s a bit melodramatic, don't you think?” His tone is smooth and irritatingly calm, starkly contrasting the storm brewing within me.

“Perhaps,” I call back over my shoulder and jerk the front door open. “But it accurately describes how I feel around you.” With that, I slam the door and storm out across the parking lot toward the trees, desperate to get away from him.

The mansion shrinks behind me as I head toward the edge of the grounds, the surrounding forest.

I walk until I reach a place where the landscaping starts to morph into a wilder beauty, with trees and bushes offering hiding places. I know he’s not following me. I would’ve felt it. Him. His presence that somehow takes up all the space around me.

So, I trudge on, the crunch of fallen leaves and twigs beneath my boots being the only sound that fills the chilled autumn air.

There’s a gnarled old oak tree that provides protection from the chill in the breeze, and I sit beneath it, leaning against the rough bark.

The leaves sway overhead in rhythmic lullaby, while I draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the image of that smug, beautiful goddamn face of the man I hate to love. That’s what this is.

Love. Hate.

A relationship you could etch on the blades of a double-edged sword, sharp, cutting, painful. Yet excruciatingly beautiful in essence.

It’s pathetic how much I wanted him to kiss me. My entire body started humming just by the idea of feeling his lips against mine once again.

But in typical Caelian fashion, he set me up for disappointment. He’s always been good at that, tearing down expectations and replacing them with frustration and let-downs.

This time was no different.

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