Page 64 of The Evernight Court

So much blood.

I had no idea how long I stayed there, looking at the door, waiting for it to open, for Emil and Tristian to come devour me completely. I was in shock, so I didn’t even cry, didn’t think, didn’t try to listen to any sound outside to try to figure out what was coming—no, I just waited.

And what could have been an eternity later, the tears came and spilled down my cheeks, and I began to shake again. I began to curse myself in my head for allowing myself to get in this position. For knowing full well that this was coming, yet choosing to walk out there again and again—for food.

I’d risked everything for that food—and where was it now? Out there on the hallway floor. Out there where I couldn’t reach it. Only the plastic cups that had been in my basket had slipped through the door, and they now rested against the wall on the other side as if to mock me, as if to laugh in my face.

Before I knew it, I crawled to them on all fours, shaking still. Sobbing still. More exhausted than I’d ever been before.

Enough. This was fucking enough.

That man wasnevergoing to touch me again. That man wasnevergoing to put those filthy fucking hands on me—not him, and not his brothers.

I grabbed one of the plastic cups and held it below my fingers as the blood dripped down from the wound on my shoulder, and I collected ten drops.

Ten drops of my blood that would have been inside Emil’s body right now if things had gone just a little bit differently.

If I’d gone to the kitchen just a little earlier or later.

If Valentine hadn’t been there.

Then I held the cup between my hands and I cried the last of the tears right there with my back to the wall, willing courage to return to me. Willing fear to fade away just enough so I could stand up. So that I could do what needed doing to make sure that I would never,everend up in that position again, with that man pressed against me, his hand on my neck, his arm around my waist, his fangs inside my skin.

“Never, never, never again,”I chanted at myself over and over, and I somehow managed to hold onto the wall and stand up. I somehow convinced myself that it was okay to open that door again and to walk out, that if I waited, I’d only regret it more, be more afraid, find more reasons not to do what I knew I had to.

The hallway floor was clean outside the door. No sign of the basket or the milk or the apples. No sign of the brothers, either. Emil wasn’t there. Tristian wasn’t watching from the other side.

And Valentine was gone, too.

I walked as if in a dream without really thinking or looking where I was going. My legs knew the way all by themselves. All I heard was the wet sound of my sneakers as I went, still soaked with milk, and the light beating of Shadow’s wings somewhere behind me. To bother to look took energy, so I didn’t. I just kept on going until I was all the way to the south wing in front of Genevieve’s doors again.

They gave, just like they had that morning. That’s because she already knew I was going to her, and she wanted to see me.

Of course, she did—I was coming to give her exactly what she wanted. I was coming to admit defeat to her face and say that she was right. I was coming to fucking surrender, and while I climbed up the spiral stairway, I’d never felt smaller in my life.

When I reached the room that looked like a cloudy sky, I found Genevieve standing there with her hands folded in front of her and a bright smile on her face as she waited for me. As she watched me like she was sure I was about to put the whole world in her hands.

I reached to the side and slowly lowered the cup with ten drops of my blood in it, knowing how fast and effortless her magic was. And sure enough, by the time I let go, a small table had appeared right underneath it, had caught it safely without a single drop spilling out.

“Smart choice,” Genevieve said and raised a hand toward me before that small table slid on the shiny floor and went all the way to her side. She grabbed the cup and analyzed my blood inside it, so dark it looked black from here. I fisted my hands until my nails sank inside my palms. It was already as good as done—I might as well release the fear that had me clenching my muscles so hard still.

Finally, I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes, and allowed myself to accept that I was doing this even if it killed me.

And I was never,evergoing back to the old Fall again.

Fifteen

Genevieve was not in a rush.As she spun the plastic cup around, she looked at my shoulder, my grey shirt and my ripped skin, dried blood all over me.

She raised a brow. “Do I want to know?”

Maybe she didn’t. I told her anyway. “One of the men you insist would fall to their knees for me tried to rape me.”

Was it hours ago or minutes—or even a day?

I had no idea.

Genevieve didn’t laugh the way I expected her to. Instead, she rolled her eyes and said, “Men.They think they’re entitled to everything.”

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