Page 32 of The Devil In Blue
I repeated Petris’s words in my head about his anger being confused with hate and did my best to see it that way, but his eyes were so disdainful.
“My eyes have always been brown,” I said.” Like my mother’s.”
“of course they have,” he sighed.
“Then…” I said. “I don’t understand.”
“I found you, Briar. I found you because I’ve been searching. To discover you under the thumb of a man—a mortal man—my gifts squandered and spent, was enough to damn me to hell. Humans are greedy. I thought you better than that.”
“You speak of Lucien.”
“Do not say his name.”
“He saved me. Though his needs sometimes were undesirable, he took me in when no one else would. I owe him small bouts of my time at the very least. He saw a sparrow with a broken wing and cared for me when he could have drowned me.”
I wish he had sometimes.
“I said don’t speak of him,” he said through his teeth.
“Why? Does it hurt you so much to hear me speak kindly of the man who pulled me from the brink of my own destruction?” I should have shut up. “Does it pain you so much to even hear another man’s name? What have you done to earn my cooperation except separate me from the thing that grounded me in the world and take from me the only gift anyone has ever given me that meant something!”
He turned abruptly and took a long stride toward me, appearing so close I nearly fell backward.
“I loved you!” he roared.
My eyes wide, I stared up into his burning gaze, breathless and at a loss. But those words hit me hard, winding through me like a thread of lightning zapping every nerve.
“I am not the woman you think I am,” I forced. “I can’t be. I grew up in Haydenside. My family bred horses. My mother looked just like me. My brother looked like my father. We lived—"
Breathing like a dog hungering for a bite, he reached around my head and grabbed a clump of my hair, tugging at the still-sensitive abrasion on the back of my scalp. I winced, but never took my eyes off of him. His other hand slithered down my body to my hip and he gripped me, pulling me flush with him. I planted my hands on his chest, trying to keep some space between us. His heart beat wildly under my palms and filled me with heat.
“You have a scar on your hip,” he whispered harshly. “Where is it from?”
I was surprised he knew about the scar at all but tried to reason that it was because whoever changed my clothes had told him.
“I got it when my home was burned. It’s a burn scar.”
“From what?”
“From the hilt of my father’s sword. The house was burning. It was hot and I fell on it.”
His angry expression suddenly relaxed and he shook his head, releasing me only to grab my wrist and lead me toward the palace. His hold was harsh and forceful when it didn’t need to be. I was complying all the same, but if he needed to take out some anger on me by gripping me that firmly, I would let him to avoid another outburst later.
At least, that was what I convinced myself I was doing.
Rune stormed through the giant double doors, pushing the heavy barrier open with one hand like it weighed nothing, and then dragged me through the foyer and into the very room where that large globe burned with its golden glow. His pace was difficult to keep up with. I stumbled and tripped, every time regaining my balance so I could keep going.
That room was enchanting when I found it initially. Now, it was daunting. The air felt hot and the roof too bright. Rune pulled me with him to what looked like a tall column made of gold that was carved with intricate swirling designs.
“Every Summer Solstice, this room becomes unbearably hot,” Rune said. “It tracks the sun and lets me know when the ways are open for me to travel the realms.”
I was almost too distracted by the images on the pillar when he spun me around and slammed me into the column. Something protruding from the wall jabbed my lower back and I flinched, sucking in a breath through my teeth just as he planted his hands on either side of my head.
Rune was on me before I could move, his body pressed close to mine and his dark wings spread like a shadowy cage around us. His scent infected me, filling my lungs and melting something deep inside. Something I didn’t know was there until that moment. Not fear. Not shock. Excitement, perhaps. Desire.
“Many times, our passion grew nearly as hot,” he whispered roughly, his hot breath spanning across my cheeks. “It was your idea.” His hand slid down to my hip, pressing me up against the protrusion still poking my back. “To do it here. To see how long it would take before neither of us could stand it.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Blue as his eyes were, they seared hotter than embers. He held my gaze for a while and then slowly dropped his eyes to my lips.
