Page 41 of Unveiled

Then unmistakable anger.

I turned and ran.

“Anya!” His voice rang out sharply behind me.

I ran harder.

The first thingI notice when I open my eyes is the faint morning light streaming through the curtains. I leap up inbed. I never sleep this late—not so late that the sun is actually up in the sky.

Stefan.

I throw the covers off and run to the door. I remember he locked it last night, but now, when I turn the handle, it opens.

Did I imagine that he locked it?

My pulse races as I look around the room. I glance down at myself and realize I’m wearing nothing. I need to get dressed. I swallow hard, scanning the space, remembering the massive, ridiculously large closet. I look until I find a soft pink robe hanging from a corner near the bathroom. I’ll probably have to thank one of his sisters for that later.

I wrap it around me, cinch it at the waist, and quickly run out to check on Stefan. I feel like I’ve abandoned my baby brother to the wolves. My stomach twists. Where is he? What has Semyon done? What would he do?

He brought me here last night to keep Stefan safe. He wouldn’t hurt him… would he? But Semyon has implacable rules, and Stefan is a wild, reckless little boy.

I sprint down the hall, my bare feet hitting the hardwood as I fling open Stefan’s door. The bed is unmade, the sheets rumpled and tossed aside as if he left in a hurry. His clothes from last night lay in a pile on the floor, haphazard and careless, just like he always leaves them. He’s just a little boy.

What have I gotten my brother into?

My chest tightens when I hear voices downstairs. I take adeep breath and let it out slowly. I have to stay calm. Why am I panicking?

Maybe because myentire lifewas put at risk? I was forced to marry a man I hate, and now my little brother is caught in the mix. Yeah, no big deal.

I roll my eyes heavenward. I wish Ophelia were here.

I walk downstairs. From here, I can see the huge expanse of his house—sleek, modern, and impossibly large, like something out of a magazine. But the sight that greets me freezes me in place.

Stefan sits on the other side of the open doorway, swinging his legs at the table, sipping something from a cup. Semyon sits across from him.

My heart aches because Stefan looks… happy. Safe.

My god. I didn’t know how badly I’d been clinging to some kind of hope, and here it is. At great personal expense, but here it is, nonetheless.

They both look up as I approach, Stefan waving at me with one hand while holding his tea with the other. And Semyon—my cold, terrifying husband.

Except… he doesn’t look so terrifying now.

Instead of his perfect suit, he wears a plain white T-shirt and gray pajama pants. Stubble shadows his jaw. His dark hair is ever so slightly mussed, and his glasses perch on the edge of his nose, giving him an almost softer edge.

Superman at rest.

No. No way. He can’t do this. He can’t sit here, playing checkers with Stefan, eating breakfast like he’s some kind of domesticated man who actually cares. Who actually has a heart.

“Good morning,” I say, but my voice is sharper and colder than I intended.

Semyon’s piercing blue eyes lock onto mine. For one moment, the intensity in that gaze robs me of my breath, and I remember last night’s details—every single one of them. His hands. His voice. His promise that we would consummate our marriage. The pain and heat he painted across my ass.

No, it’s wrong to think about this with my brother sitting right there. God.

Now here he is, looking like an entirely different man, as if I somehow imagined the coldhearted monster in my dreams.

Is he gaslighting me?

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