Page 89 of Inked Athena

His curse follows me down the street as I run. Notfromthe truth this time.

Towardit.

32

NOVA

Some people would say playingScrabblewith the elderly caretakers of a Scottish castle is a far cry from living it up in a luxurious suite in the center of London with your boyfriend and best friend.

Those people would be right.

“That’s a double word score, lass.” Mrs. Morris crunches the numbers on her yellow legal pad. “You’re in the lead now.”

“Am I?” I give her my best smile, but it doesn’t go well.

Smiles have been in short supply since we got back to the castle late last night.

They’ve been in even shorter supply since I woke up this morning and found my bed empty.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but our week in London was so magical that I guess I was hoping that it would continue once we were back home.

Or, in Scotland, anyway. Maybe this is home now. I’m not sure.

If Samuil ever comes out of the library, maybe I’ll ask.

“Shewasin the lead,” Mr. Morris crows, placing his tiles with a gnarled hand. “Until now.”

His wife leans over the board to read his answer, then immediately swats her husband on the shoulder. “John! You can’t talk like that in front of a lady.”

“I didn’t say a word.” He grins proudly at his placement, turning “head” into “fuckhead” on a triple word score.

I can’t help but grin back.

“You are a child,” Mrs. Morris scolds. “You’re just being naughty to make Nova smile.”

“And what of it? Worked, didn’t it?”

It did.

But not for long.

By the time I drag myself up to my tower post-game—and isn’t that just perfect? I’m literally Rapunzel, minus the useful hair—the temporary amusement has evaporated. What’s left is a bitter taste in my mouth and a gnawing emptiness in my chest.

Maybe London spoiled me, but days spent with sheep and the Morrises and curled in bed by myself with a book aren’t enough anymore. No matter how great the sex is, I don’t want to be Samuil’s bed-warmer. I don’t want to loiter around, waiting for him to have enough time for me.

I don’t want to be his crown jewel, locked away in a tower, or his clandestine baby mama, or his dirty little secret.

I wantmore.

And tonight, I’m going to demand it.

So I climb into bed, intent on avoiding sleep. The plan is to wait for Samuil to come join me, exhausted from a day of whatever the hell he does all day, so I can corner him and lay out my demands while I stand a chance of actually winning an argument for a change.

Things are going to change around here, dammit.

Except, the next time I blink, I’m staring groggily up at the ceiling.

I fell asleep.Masterful execution of your plan, Nova,croons a snide voice in my head. The sky outside my window is dark, so I’m unclear on what time it actually is or how long I fell asleep for. I’m fumbling for a clock or watch or phone when?—

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