Page 52 of Little Nightmare

Her long hair was swept away from her face in large curls, her makeup was light, her lips a pale pink.

“Hi.”

I almost laughed. “That’s not a lot of words for someone who normally stores them to use as weapons later.”

Her smile was slow, deliberate. “Maybe it was a test.”

"Did I pass?”

She gently set her flowers down on the nearby black leather chair. “I bet it’s killing you not to know.”

She wasn’t wrong. “What can I help you with?”

"Is there another way?” she asked. “Out of this? And if there was, would you take it?”

I leaned against the table and crossed my arms. “His family went into deep hiding, if they showed their faces they’d be killed on the spot—and you’re carrying his child. What do you think would happen if his family knew or if yours did? They’d want an immediate alliance and your dad would be honor bound to keep it depending on whatever terms they had with us?—“

“Terms,” She stated flatly. “What do you mean terms?”

Shit. “The same as mine I’d expect. As a body guard if we touch you or go back on our word then we owe you a pound of flesh, a body, a soul, you name it. I don’t know what his contract said, but I’m assuming it took into account pregnancy.”

"Would I get sent away?”

“I highly doubt your dad would allow it.”

“So it would start a conflict?”

“Most likely.”

“So there isn’t a way out?”

"Am I so bad?

"You’re beautiful to look at and terrifying to talk to on even your best day when you cash out all your words, Ace.” Her eyelashes fluttered closed for a moment, then she lifted themand gazed at me, a half-hearted smile teasing her lips. “You’re a killer, impossible to read half the time, and you look like you’d rather be tortured than seduced.”

I flinched.

“Sorry.” She crossed her arms. “That was harsh.”

“Truth is rarely pretty.” It stung, though. It stung because I’d told her about the waffles when my guard was down with my physical pain.

She’d sat next to me.

She’d touched me.

I’d allowed it for one brief second.

To put down the shield, the pain, to wonder about the road that led to her and if it could be more than a signature on a piece of paper.

I wondered about a soul exchange.

And now I was struggling to put the shield back, to build the castle I’d allowed to get slightly destroyed by her easy smiles and weaponized words.

"I’m sorry,” I finally said. “That I’m not what you wanted.”

It was all I could say.

“It’s not your fault.”

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