Page 5 of Stone

When my eyes latch onto the spoon, I notice it’s straight, so I glance around the table until they land on Azrael’s bent spoon. I wonder when she switched them out. She knows our father wouldn’t create an issue with the damage if it was Azrael who caused it, and just like that, I stand, ignoring the voice in my head that tells me to leave her alone. How can I when she looked so hurt and is always so determined to protect me?

With fierce determination, I blow out a deep breath and stride toward the door, pull it open, and take an immediate left past the guards lining the foyer.

I can feel Vector’s eyes trained on me, and I’d love nothing more than to slam my fist into the fucker’s face. He’s the head of security, my father’s lapdog and right-hand man, and he hates me with a passion, but sure loves to torture me.

Out of all the savage men I’ve encountered, he is by far the worst. He seems to get a twisted kick out of creating the worst punishments for me, determined to break me and watch me crumble, but I refuse to. I won’t give the fucker the satisfaction of knowing he’s the demon in my nightmares. His time will come one day; I live in the hope of that.

The change in the décor is instantaneous. The dreary dark walls almost have a sinister vibe to them, unlike the elaborate gold wallpaper the rest of the house embodies. I push open the door to the kitchen and head down the stone staircase, then my nostrils are filled with the fragrance of her cooking, and a sense of fulfillment washes over me. The staff raise their heads, then scurry out of the room while I lean against the wall and watch her. She’s in her element here. It’s her comfort zone. She enjoys cooking her mother’s and grandmother’s recipes and has a close relationship with the staff who assist her.

Ignoring me, she clangs the pots around the kitchen like a wildcat, and I want so badly to feel those claws dig into my back and tear away the scars, forming new and welcomed ones.

My cock thickens, so I shift my feet, willing it to stop.

There’s something wrong with a man who can only get hard for the one person he can’t have.

She breezes through the kitchen, pretending I don’t exist, and every time I open my mouth to speak, I’m rendered speechless by her beauty. How can someone so pure thrive in a world of evil?

“Tomato and basil,” I rasp out. “Bit of garlic in there too.” Her eyes snap to mine, and a reluctant smile tugs at her lips, causing mine to twitch at the change in her demeanor.

“You remembered? Do you remember anything else?” She chews on her bottom lip, with hope sparkling in her eyes, and the last thing I want to do is extinguish it, so I shrug.

“The soup was good.” She tilts her head as she scans me, causing electricity to spark through my body, bringing life to every dead cell within me, and encouraging me to continue with my praise. “Really fucking good. Great.”

Her shoulders relax, and she wipes her hands on the apron. “What about the woman with the kind eyes? Did you see her again?”

She’s referring to the dream I have. Where a woman is smiling at me. I swear it’s my mother, but I can’t be certain and, according to my father, she’s dead, despite Sienna insisting she could still be alive.

I shake my head. “I remember you feeding me soup.”

“But what about before that? Do you remember anything before that?”

I grit my teeth. She clears her throat and flicks her gaze away before bringing it back to me. Sympathy lines her face, and I hate it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t lie to me, Sienna.” With my tone dark, I’m pissed she even tried to.

Then she raises her chin, plastering that adorable pout back on her face. “You’re right. I wanted to push you to remember because nobody else does.”

“Nobody else cares,” I state.

“Well, that might be so. But I care.” Her gaze holds mine, and my cock stands to attention, so I step around the counter to disguise its desperation to get out of my pants.

“You shouldn’t.” My voice is firm and assertive, and I mean every damn word. She shouldn’t care. It would be so much easier for us both if she didn’t.

She steps toward me, and I sidestep to avoid her. “Well, I do.”

“Sienna,” I warn.

Her lip curls into a sly smile. “Yes?”

“I thought I’d find you down here.” I turn my head to find Czar leaning against the doorframe and watching our exchange with a smug smile. “Azrael is looking for you.” He lifts his chin in my direction, and my muscles tighten, pulling my white shirt to capacity at the warning in his tone.

Without sparing Sienna a glance, I head out of the room and up the stone steps, hearing part of their conversation. Since the doctor declared me partially deaf, nobody knows I can hear perfectly fine, apart from her.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, you know that?”

“Maybe I think he’s worth dying for.”

I wish she didn’t think I was worth dying for, but I love her all the more for it. Warmth and hope spread through me. In this life, it’s the only thing I have, so I take it, embrace it, and fucking cherish it.

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