Page 22 of A Debt of Darkness

Fuck. She thinks I’m rejecting her. She doesn’t understand I’m protecting her. Protecting us. I’m choosing her and she can’t see it.

“You’re perfect, Ivy,” I tell her and tears flood her eyes. “So fucking perfect. Let’s take our time. Let’s make it special. I want that. For you.”

Ivy isn’t convinced. I smile and place featherlight kisses all over her body, whispering promises of devotion and assurances everything’s fine.

She relaxes a little and I pick her up, carrying her to bed. She slides under the covers and I wait to see what she wants. Ivy stays silent and does nothing, leaving me at a loss.

“Can I join you?”

“If you want to,” she mumbles, and my once-dead heart leaps with joy as I slide in next to her. “You’ll do what you want anyway,” she says, crushing the heart that’s only just reawakened.

7

THE RUBY ONE

IVY

Iwake up in bed and I'm alone. Naked and alone. I'm warm and thankfully it isn’t because Henry’s body is heating mine.

My arms stretch across the bed and I yawn. The bed is perfect, like everything else in this room. I hate the soft sheets, the reassuring weight of the duvet, and the calming light creeping through the shutters.

I sit up and my head feels woozy. The room spins and I lean against the headboard, steadying myself as the colors separate and the world focuses.

“Steady there.”

I stiffen.

Henry smirks as he leans against the doorway to the walk-in closet, showing me every goddamn muscle in his abdomen. Drops of water drip down his body andcatch on his towel, which hides anything else I might be interested in.

His body’s perfect, and the asshole knows it. He isn’t tanned, but it doesn’t matter. His bright blue eyes still dazzle and his blond hair matches mine. He’s strong, muscular and lean. Fucking perfect—and a complete wanker.

“You're still wobbly, Ivy,” he says, running his hands through his wet hair. “Yesterday was a big day.”

Obviously. We got married. I almost passed out and only just made it through the fucking ceremony. Then he brought me up here, told me it was my fault for not eating, and then everything else happened.

It was confusing.

It was exciting.

It was fun, and I want more.

It was awful, and now I don't know what to do.

Henry stares at me and his bright blue eyes lance through my defenses, leaving me at his mercy. He's scrutinizing me in a way I don't like, as if I'm a fucking open book. Last night, for one awful moment, I wanted things to be easy. Now, I'm convinced they're going to be hard.

“You should eat,” he says, fetching a plate of food left on the side. “The strawberries are delicious.”

I stare and my stomach complains it wants feeding and there's no reason not to eat. I snatch a pastry out of spite, picking it apart and devouring it while Henry looks on in consternation. He glares, and I ignore the fuck out of him, especially when he sits down next to me.

“Ivy, about last night...”

His tone is relaxed but his body isn't. He's unsettled and out of his comfort zone, as I was yesterday—and he didn't give a single fuck when the shoe was on the other foot.

Henry's hand slides up my thigh. “I didn't want there to be any misunderstanding. You were perfect, it was perfect. I wanted to be sure.” He swallows and looks something, possibly pained. It's hard to tell. “That you wanted it. Wanted me.”

He's lying.

The asshole has the nerve to lie to me after everything that happened. I don't even care what the fuck went wrong. He's treating me like shit and I've never felt so used.

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