Page 28 of Covenant

I could grow things here, I think. I could have a garden. It’s the one thing my apartment with Jen never had, but here…all this space. I could. But I discard it. I won’t be here next year. What’s the point?

But a part of me silently calls out for it, to stick my fingers into the soil and to watch as things grow.

I turn slightly and move around the house, walking the length of it, my shoes muddying before turning back. I feel like I’ve been gone an era with how large the house is. But I wanted to see it from the outside.

It’s just as expansive as it is inside.

And just as opulent.

When I return inside, I make sure to take off my shoes and carry them up to his bedroom.Our bedroom, I think as I stare at the bed.

And in a fit of complete insanity, I smack the sole of my shoe right onto his pillow, leaving a muddy footprint for him to sleep on.

It makes me unreasonably happy.

I’m here to torment him, to make him wish he never agreed to this sham of a marriage. He’ll wish he never brought me into his house and forced me to sleep in his bed.

With that, I change my wet clothes and wander around the house once more.

What else is there to do but wait?

7

WYATT

“What have you been doing?” Matthias asks me, finding me in the library, hiding away among all the books. Books, I might add, that are all about history and law. Nothing else, it seems.

I may have to find some porn and stick it between the stacks—let him or his guests find it and be appalled.

The thought makes me giddy as I hear the man himself approach. Rain hits the window outside and my gaze turns from the gray sky to the man in a gray suit stopping in front of me. His hands are in his pockets, his head cocked slightly to the right.

I could tell him about my exploits around the outside of the house, about the muddy footprint I put right on his pillow.

But I don’t. I’ll let him find out on his own. Maybe he’ll sleep on it out of pure stubbornness. But knowing him, he probably won’t ever notice.

It’s not like he seemed to notice me disappearing from his life all those years ago.

“Nothing,” I reply finally. “This house is a mausoleum.”

“What a compliment,” he murmurs, and I feel my fists tightening near my sides.

“Everything is dead and dreary, just like you.”

His lips twitch and then he’s before me, his hand against my neck, holding me firmly. “And yet, I’m your husband. So you better get used to pretending to like me.”

I wet my lips as my pulse thrums under my skin, right against his thumb.

“I’ll do what I have to,” I hiss and then glance away when his finger brushes my skin softly before pulling away.

“Good. And we can start by you joining me for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will eat,” he bites out and then turns on his heel, just expecting that I’ll follow him. I don’t. He asked for a husband, not a dog. I just stand there until he finally turns around, his lips in a straight line, dark eyes flashing.

“If you don’t join me, I’ll make you. And you won’t like how I accomplish it.”

My heart thuds in my chest and I feel my jaw tick in annoyance. Still, I don’t move.

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