Page 58 of Antiletum
It never was.
Part of me wants to fling myself away from my husband. Free the dagger sheathed at his side and plunge it into his neck, over and over and over. To end his life like he challenged me to do. Another deeply shameful piece wants to lean in closer. Feel more of his heat. Maybe ask him to drape a strong arm over my shoulders. Get a little closer and bask in the spicy, warm notes that are allhim.So rich and complex. Musky and masculine. Downright primal.
A towering cake slathered in lavender buttercream displayed in a window catches my attention, igniting a spark of inspiration.
With a sudden, more harsh than necessary yank on Val’s arm, I steer us to the bakery on an impulse. A trail of foxglove growing by the door brushes against my parasol before I snap it closed and prop it over my shoulder, dragging my husband into the stagnant sugary haze indoors.
A glass case displays a gallery of sweets, popping in colors and textures like a painting.
“What should I get?” I ask, pulling Val to the spread. “Oh, that one right there looks good. With the apples.”
Finger not quite touching the glass, I turn questioningly to Valledyn for an opinion. He opens his mouth to answer, but I interrupt him, moving to a different array of treats. “On second thought, a dozen of those.” I indicate towards little cakes like the ones Val was shoveling into his mouth last night—as if my whole world wasn’t falling apart. Yet again.
A coy, conspiratorial smile plays at my lips, turning to Val. When our gazes meet, I let some of the fire simmering in my soul surface for the briefest second. “My husband is partial to those.”
His brow furrows deep, head cocked to the side curiously. Studiously. Like he’s starting to realize this may all be too good to be true. This close, I watch Val’s black pupils overtake his black irises. “Delaney.” My name on his lips is rushed, fearful.
Turning back to the baker, Val doesn’t allow me to disregard him. He holds my elbow, pulling me to the side while my rainbow array of confections are stacked into a box.
“Delaney,” Val parrots himself, then licks his lips nervously. Lost for words. His hand digs deep into his pocket, and I have half a mind to rip it free, sink my own fingers into the fabric, and reveal whatever it is he clings to so dearly.
Chuck it into the sewers and thieve his comfort.
Instead, I challenge him with his own name. “Valledyn.”
As expected, his breath catches, just barely. His pupils bloom the tiniest bit, yet again, for a different reason than before.
“What is this? What are you doing?”
“Enjoying a lovely day in the city. With mydevoted, doting husband.”
Val’s dark eyes scan my whole face, looking for something. “This isn’t… what I expected,” he finishes. The worry he held upon finding me on the street comes back to fruition. His gaze slides up and down my body, concentrating on the black and silver dress I boast proudly, the spread wings of a barn owl decorating my hem.
Accepting that my attitude now doesn’t fit with how we left things last night.
Leaning up on my toes, I ground myself with my parasol to the floor. My lips slide across Val’s cheek, giving it a tender kiss. He shudders beneath my hand on his shoulder, instinctively bracketing my waist to hold me closer. Gravitating towards each other.
A sly smile plays on my mouth when I whisper in his ear, teeth barely clicking against his trio of piercings. “You’re not the only one who can put on a show.” From any vantage point, it would look like a simple exchange of affection. A dirty little secret shared between newlyweds.
When I drop down, Val’s jaw is tense, pulling me tighter, showing me that he wants to keep me close, his free fist balled at his side.
A deeper pitch coats my words when I brush by his shoulder, exiting his hold. Cold. A complete juxtaposition with how I stare at him with adoration, clasping our hands together. “Smile, Valledyn. The people are watching.”
15
She’s convincing, my wife
Val
It’s agonizing, really. This act with my wife. Smiling with her through it while we mingle among our people. Not knowing what the purpose is. What she’s thinking.
By the time we make it back to The Citadel, the energy between us is explosive. Both of us ready to spout off like a tea kettle. Or, more accurately, about to erupt like warring volcanoes. The heat, the pressure, it’s too immense to contain.
I can’t wait for it to implode.
Every kiss on the cheek, every little laugh and not so subtle affection, I could feel each one ratcheting Delaney tighter and tighter. Becoming more aggressive and heated. But probably not for the reasons I wish they were. That I would havethoughtthey were.
She’s convincing, my wife. It’s spellbinding.
