Page 214 of Flirting with Darkness

Many years ago Ari’s pa had told us a story about a kind, cultured gentleman who became a wicked, evil brute at night. His two halves were so separate, they had different names and never remembered what the other had done. If a house could be alive and move and provide wardrobes full of perfect clothing, maybe it could have two sides to itself like that.

I rubbed my aching head, my sore eyes. The tears had stopped a while ago, but they still threatened any time my thoughts strayed towardshim.

The way he’d killed those werewolves so easily, I should’ve known. I’d thought it was part of protecting me, but… it was just an expression of what he was. Maybe he’d even ushered me towards that apple tree growing so temptingly over the estate’s walls.

He was definitely not on my side. He’d deceived me.

House? I wasn’t sure.

Then there was Granny… Aside from trapping me here, I hadn’t actually seen her do anything wrong. She’d told us she was stuck here because of a curse, which couldn’t be a lie.

Maybe I’d jumped to the wrong conclusions my whole time here.

Granny wasn’t the one I should fear. Nor House.

I stared at the door, chest tight and painful, throat sore as if I’d screamed myself hoarse.

He was the only one I’d seen hurt anyone. He was the only one I’d witnessed violence from. He was the only one I knew for sure had deceived me.

What if he was the one holding Granny here, cursed? And the geas stopped her from telling me?

Except that didn’t make sense either. I slumped and clutched my head with one hand. The other still held my blade. I wouldn’t put it down until I was out of this place.

I couldn’t put all these lies-but-not together. It was like I had ingredients from three different recipes and somehow had to make something delicious from them. Except the ingredients were honey, beetroot, and rotten fish.

I sighed and let my head fall back against the wall.

How could Faolán be the man who’d protected me from the werewolves, who’d married me to save me, who’d tucked bluebells behind my hair, who’d tended my wounds from the kelpie…andbe the wolf who’d kept me here? Not to mention, also be the fae who’d deceived me about what he was.

The stupid, salty tears came back with a vengeance.

How had I been so foolish to think I could trust him? I’d shared my bed with that beast… mybody.

And my stupid heart.

I should’ve known we were destined for disaster.

Ididknow.

Fae and humans always ended in tragedy.

But like a fool, I’d let Ari’s happiness, her exception that proved the rule, persuade me that maybe Faolán and I might be different.

Hells, it wasn’t just persuasion—I’dliedto myself.

How the fae would laugh at that.

I sank into my sorrow and self-pity, curled up in the cupboard. The clock tolled away the morning and the afternoon as I lay there and counted down the hours I needed to survive. The hours to freedom.

Eventually, the light under the door faded, and I gripped my knife tighter. If House dragged me into sleep and one of its dreams, my attempts to stay safe might all be for nothing.

But the darkness deepened, leaving just a sliver of moonlight at the base of the door, and the clock chimed nine times. Ten. Eleven. Midnight.

Sleep didn’t come. Maybe it was because I wasn’t in bed. And no one had found my hiding place—maybe House could be trusted, at least to some degree.

I lifted my head and whispered, “House?”

The small wooden box that was my lone companion in here slid away from the wall.

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