Page 89 of Firedrake Betrayal
My anger burns out from an argument that goes on and on but seemingly goes nowhere at all. I just hurt.
I’d trusted him. Believed him. Now, every time he opens his mouth, he proves how wrong I was.
“You betrayed me,” I say simply. “I can’t trust if any of the nice things you did in Atticus’s compound had any value other than to manipulate me later.”
I’d cried when I’d learned Atticus planned to take my baby and cage it. Dominik had quietly ordered me to our shared glass wall. We rested our heads against it.
We couldn’t touch or hug. But he had comforted me.
Now all of that feels tainted.
Like it had all been a lie.
I remember when he bit my throat and bound us together, and I think I understand why he did it then. “You didn’t like the thought of me being with someone else. You knew I liked Patten, so you tied us together so I would stay with you and not him. Didn’t you?”
He doesn’t respond.
My eyes burn. I force a smile to my lips, and I will myself not to cry.
“How am I supposed to trust you when you did something so selfish?”
“You act like you’re not still attracted to me, but you are.”
“What happened in the compound was a mistake.” I look away from him. Yes, I’m still attracted to him, but that’s not enough.
He scoffs. “You really think I buy that? Maybe it started off that way. It certainly didn’t end that way. There is something between us.”
I lift my chin. “That means nothing when I don’t trust you.”
His jaw hardens. “You’re not being smart about this, Jade.”
Fury coats my tongue, a bright, hot, bitter thing that tastes of ash.
“Before Atticus abducted me, my father left me with a man who I believed was my uncle who liked to lock me in his attic. I don’t want to be with someone who would lock me up.”
I didn’t try to escape when I know I should have. Fear held me back. I won’t let it continue to hold me back. The crazy dreamversion of me was right. I hide a lot, and I am scared. Always scared.
Because I do those things, people walk right over me.
I’m sick of it.
“I would not lock you in an attic,” Dominik denies.
“You locked me in your hoard.”
I swing around, away from Dominik. All we’re doing is going in circles. He says he’s listening, but he’s not. And I’m too angry to care.
His hand grips my forearm, halting me. “Stop. I am not like that man.”
“Please let me go.”
His grip tightens.
Before I have to wonder if spirit will attack him, a silky French accented voice drifts from the door.
“She asked you politely to do something. More politely than you deserve. I won’t ask so nicely.”
I meet Isaiah’s gaze.
