Page 26 of Diamond Kisses

Whenever he stayed for me, I cried myself to sleep for being so cruel.

I shouldn’t beg him to stay.

I should tell him it was okay to go.

But even with Peter cuddling me in those awful moments and all the terror of what our future held, I just couldn’t say the words for Henri to leave.

Because I knew. I knew as surely as I knew Krish would feel I wasn’t alright that Henri hung on just for me.

He’d clung to life through his beating.

He’d clung to it while Dr Belford spent hours tending to his broken bones and injecting him with God knew what.

And he’d clung to it even as his words grew scrambled with his concussion and he screamed in his sleep.

If I’d given him permission to fade, he would’ve. If I’d made him believe—while he existed in a half-coma, half-stupor for those first couple of weeks—that I was safe and he didn’t have to worry, he would’ve taken one last breath and gone.

And now I wished I’d been strong enough to set him free because Victor stood from his chair, tossed the keys onto the blue velvet, and prowled toward Henri sleeping on his cot.

Unfortunately for Henri, he was now too healed to die on a whim. Too strong to just float away in his sleep.

I’ve condemned him to a fate far, far worse than death.

“Don’t touch him.” I lurched off my bed and ran to the length of my chain. Clutching my collar, cushioning the many lacerations and bruises on my neck from trying to get free, I bared my teeth. “Don’t go near him, you sick bastard.”

Henri’s dirty, healing form went from slack with sleep to stiff with awareness.

Before Victor took another step, he rolled onto his side and sat up with as much power and decorum as he had when he’d been healthy and uncollared.

Victor didn’t see the bone-deep agony inside him or the way his eyes pinched with exhaustion. He merely saw an ex-Master covered in dirt.

I didn’t know how much it cost Henri to give off the vibe of a man not on the brink of breaking—to stand on braced legs and stare down our enemy—but he did.

Victor stopped with a smirk. “Well, it’s nice to see you’re in one piece,mon ami. After Belford’s reports of your injuries, I will admit, I had my doubts.”

Peter roused beside me, his sleep heavier the past few days thanks to our daily meal halving in size.

Our bodies were shutting down. Our skin turning sallow. Our stomachs hollow.

But now it made sense why our rations had been restricted even more than usual.

Victor had no doubt been planning this visit for a few days and wanted to ensure we were extra weak and helpless.

Sucking in a tattered breath, Peter sat up and shot me a look.

The look of pure horror on his handsome, gaunt face did nothing to settle mine.

Ignoring him, I kept my gaze on Henri.

On the way he gathered all the shadows in the room and seemed to use them as his crutches to stand taller. On the way he slipped on a mask that hid his true disgust and despair.

“What do you want?” Balling his hands, Henri looked Victor up and down as if he was one of the many rats that scurried about down here.

“To visit my friend.” Victor grinned. “Is that not permitted?”

“I’d hoped you’d had a heart attack.”

Victor snickered. “Sorry to disappoint.” He bowed with a flourish. “Still fit as a fiddle, I’m afraid.”

---