Page 43 of In the Midst of Chaos

Could I marry him?

I shook my head to rid myself of that thought.

My smile matched his as I greeted him back. Sometimes I forgot about the arrangement, and in moments like these, he was still my best friend. He stood between Nash and me, and he didn’t even know it. He wasn’t aware of the power he held to destroy me, which made me resent him as the years went by. But the blame wasn’t all on him.

“Hey, just needed to get away for a bit,” I told him.

“You came here?” He raised a brow as he sat next to me. “You do know what this place is, right?”

I knew, perhaps better than him.

“My father used to bring me here formeetings,” I confessed.

Huxley’s jaw got hard.

“Your father used to bring you here,” he asked. “Does my father know?”

I turned to look at him. His square jaw was set in a hard line, and his brown eyes had this intensity behind them.

“Axton didn’t like it; he was very vocal about it. When my father died, he rescinded my invitation to join them.”

A part of me hated Axton for that. I was glad my father didn’t treat me any differently because I was a woman. In my opinion, a woman could be more lethal than any man. There was a softness to us that could be sharp enough to kill, and you wouldn’t even know it until after the damage was done.

“I know it sounds crazy, but when I’m here lying on top of the bones of our enemies in the middle of a battlefield, I always feel centered. Because I know that nothing is worse than the madness that lies at our feet.”

Huxley stayed pensive for a while. He didn’t know what to think or what to say. From what I had gathered, he still hadn’t made it to a meeting. Not that he was a pussy. It’s just that he would rather destroy someone from the inside out. Fuck their mind over, and their self-destruction would follow.

He had the face of an angel and the mind of a killer. A lethal combination and something he fought against each day.

“Some people survive chaos, and that’s how they grow,” he said, reciting a poem from one of my favorite modern poets.

“And some people thrive in chaos, becausechaos is all they know,” I said, finishing part of my favorite quote.

Huxley reached for my hand, trying to give me comfort. “What would it have been like growing up normal?”

“Normality is not set in stone. It’s all about perception.”My father didn’t let me wonder on what-ifs. There was what could be, and that was a goal to try to reach for, and what already was, was something to accept and make peace with.

“Next time you go to the clearing, I will be there by your side offering my support,” he said.

I squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “That’s really sweet to say. But I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I am more than strong enough to carry my crown.”

Daddy didn’t raise a pawn; he raised a king.

Huxley just smiled at me. He brought his hand to my cheek and stroked with his thumb.

He stayed looking at me, and the more he did, the more uncomfortable I got.

“I know you don’t,” he said.

I was about to pull my hand away when his face got closer, and I was frozen, scared to move. Not because I wanted him to kiss me but because I already belonged to someone else, even if on paper I was his.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, mortified.

Huxley chuckled, and then his lips fell on mine.

Perhaps I let it happen to see if I felt something, if my fascination with Nashton was something that could be mimicked or duplicated, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

Although his lips were warm, they didn’t light my soul on fire. They didn’t make me feel like I was coming out of my skin. Like all my demons had free rein over me.

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