Page 15 of His Bride

I press my forehead against my knees, the warmth seeping through my jeans providing me an infinitesimal sense of comfort. How is it possible to feel like I want to run from and to him at the same damn time?

Breathing in deeply, I try to distance my thoughts from the things that hurt. The longer I sit in the silence, the more the world around me feels like it’s slowing down, like I can breathe easier.

“What about Giana?”

Mira’s voice startles me, and I glance around the tree trunk. Why is she out here?

“Yeah. I don’t like it, Mira, but it’s the only way.”

And pretty, feisty Mira, someone I’ve grown to love, sighs, and there’s a heartbreak folded up in that sound. “I know,” she says, her voice low.

I hate eavesdropping, so I start to rise.

“No one can know.” Nicoli’s words freeze me in place.

I inch closer, and my foot gets caught in a giant tree root.

“And by no one,” Mira says, “you mean Giana.”

“EspeciallyGiana. This entire goddamn mess is because?—”

I stumble and almost fall face-first into the dirt before catching my balance.

“Giana!” Mira’s voice lights up the most awkward moment.

I wipe my palms. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude.” My smile’s as big and bright and fake as hers. “Are you two making out?”

“Nicoli was just blaming too many guests for dragging me out here for a tryst.”

I think I’m in a competition of who can smile the fakest because when Mira stops speaking, my smile also gets bigger.

“Or that’s what he wants you to think.” And then I stop.

I’m sure they want to know exactly what I overheard as much as I want to be in the loop and know what the hell they were talking about. But I’mnotin the loop, and I heard nothing except the evidence that I’m not trusted—probably because blame has been placed on me.

My smile falters and dies as my eyes and throat burn, and I swear if I cry, I’m taking myself to that mausoleum and finding an empty crypt to shrivel up and die in.

“I, uh…I think I’ll just go to my room and get out of everyone’s way.”

Then I make myself look at Nicoli. What must it be like for him, seeing his brother every time he looks into the mirror, reminded of his brother’s absence whenever he sees his reflection? It’s got to be a special kind of torture for him.

I swallow the burning lump. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” And with that, I turn and head back.

At first, my stride’s steady and as confident as I can make it, but then I start slowing down because where am I rushing to? Home? This isn’t my home. These aren’t my people. I don’t belong here. Everyone knows it, so I’m being excluded.

I don’t know where to go or what to do. I’m stuck in this place, drifting endlessly in so much uncertainty it’s like trying to navigate through a thick, unending fog. Every step feels like an effort on my part, yet I have no choice but to keep moving forward while I pine for a man I shouldn’t.

Right or wrong, love or hate, Caelian’s touch is magic. It can burn away the bad, even if it’s only for a few minutes. And since that horrible moment when Alexius was gunned down, I haven’t had it. Not a kiss, a touch, or something made of pure lust.

As I step out from under the trees, I see him. He’s with a blond, tattooed man in a fabulous suit.

The blond notices me the moment Caelian does, and I’m far enough away they shouldn’t have. They’re going over something outside, and the blond folds up the paper and puts it away, right as two other men I don’t know come out.

But Caelian’s attention’s on me, his gaze fixed and unblinking.

For a heart-stopping moment, I think he’ll come over—to do what? Take me in his arms and tell me it’s going to be okay? Tell me that we’ll ride off into the sunset and leave this life and everyone in it behind?

God, Giana, you’re pathetic.

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