Page 13 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

She’s still alive?I don’t let my surprise or relief show on my face.

Instead, I jut my chin up stubbornly, looking first at the massive necklace of rough-cut azure he never takes off, before I meet those hard, cold eyes I learned to hate so early on.

“You never told me it was a woman,” I reply as indifferently as I can.

“Does it matter?” he snaps. He’s tenser than usual, the fog of his dark aura coming in slow ripples, like a heavy, sullen mass. As if you’d thrown a stone into hot tar.

“It matters to me,” I retort. I try hard not to flinch when he grabs my chin and compresses my face with his eerily long, but surprisingly strong fingers. Bruising me. He has to be in some mood to show his temper so much.Who was that woman?

“Because she’s one of your kind. A weak little female. Easier to kill than a bad male, huh?”

“It’s not easy. Never. And you are the one killing them!” I seethe between clenched teeth.

“Keep telling yourself that. But we both know the truth. You’re a little monster.”

The words hit me, and for the first time, I wish Icouldbe a monster. Powerful. Able to rip his face off with my claws.

I snap my teeth at him, remembering how it felt to sink them into the flesh of the red-haired woman, to taste her blood.

In that moment, I feel something inside me opening its eyes. Something unholy. As if there is indeed a monster prowling under my skin. Something that would be all talons and fangs, biting and clawing, was it to ever come out.

A creature of instinct and little else.

Lyrian curls his thin lips slightly—in surprise or disgust, I can’t tell—but he lets go of me. “No one would have taken you in when your parents died. No one would have cared for such a rebellious, wildthing.You would have been living on the streets like the animal you are if I hadn’t taken you on, fed you, taught you all you know. I was generous, was I not? I even bought you all the books you wanted and your canvases to paint your silly landscapes on. All I want from you is this tiny little exchange. And you? You lie to me, and I am tired of it.”

His voice is so cold I feel a shiver going right through me. But at his words, something in me snaps. “You never let me have a life!”

“No life? I spoiled you!”

“You lock me away and worse! Don’t pretend that mine was ever a normal childhood. I know how other children grow up.”

The words spill out, but I’m too sick of it all to care. Too sick of Lyrian and his control. For a brief second, I think that he will make Kayne discipline me, but instead, he just lets out a long, loud laugh that reverberates within the close walls.

A cruel, mocking echo.

“Ah, yes, of course—youknow.From your silly books.” He scowls down at me before his lips tear into a slanted smile. “No, now I know—it was that little boy you were seeing—what was his name again? Something so ordinary to the ears it hurt.”

I clench my teeth at the mention of David. At the lurid imagein my head that flares up again at his name. Of his blood-crusted lips and swollen eyes.

As if Lyrian senses my thoughts, he probes on. “The boy you ruined your pretty, young skin for.”

He bends down to me again, his sweet breath making my stomach turn. This time, I do flinch away when he stretches out his finger to trace the almost invisible scratches on my cheek left there by my nails. I manage to avoid his touch.

He lets me but keeps smiling coldly down at me, clearly remembering how I stood in that doorway and dug my nails so deep into my face they left bloody scratches from my forehead down my cheeks to my chin.

My only words wereIf you kill him, I will kill myself. Do you understand?

It had left scars, but if I wore makeup, no one could see them at all. Not that I care.

I did it to save David’s life. I also did it in an attempt to shed my own skin. As if it could turn me into somebody else. A free, happy person.

But it hit Lyrian on a deeper level and showed me just how much he needed me. It changed our relationship, even if only slightly.

I try not to let my face show anything as I say coolly, “I never asked for any of this. If you don’t want me, why don’t you let me go?”

He pulls his hand back as if burned and straightens up abruptly, the fine fabric of his vest rustling at the movement. “Unredeemable and stupid—so typical of yourkind. You do know what a contract is? You owe me, and I will not let you go until you’ve paid me back for my kindness.” His expression is frighteningly neutral, but his tone is lethal.

Another wave of panic and nausea stirs in me.

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