Page 79 of Antiletum
I could practically hear Val’s jaw grinding every time the man glanced in my direction, even across the glittering, lavishly decorated room. I suppose the air of murder coming off my husband when Roarke took my hand and told me he was honored to meet his new Lady wasn’t imagined at all.
It wouldn’t do a single person any good to admit to the sense of satisfaction that possessiveness bred—at the time.
I grasp my lemonade in my hand, channeling the feel of the fateful mirror when I witnessed what Val did. Trying to hold tight to my loathing that I wore in the hours immediately after, letting past versions of myself melt away into something harder and new.
But the fight after our shopping trip chiseled away at unexpected corners of that rage. Our graveyard encounter last night snapped another personal thread between us. Rather than bringing about a severing, it just reeled us even closer against my will.
It’s like the more I try to hate him, the more the sleepingdeostry to lessen that gap, to push us together, to make me desire him. It’s the small details, I’m sure of it. The dark eyes. The unique mannerisms in how he slowly cocks his head to the side, just like his owl form. All so easy to see now. The way I’m able to take those traits, erase the person holding them, fit it to the ache rearing in my heart.
“Why do they hate each other?” I ask, ignoring the tingles gathering in dark places, skittering like unwanted little spiders. Menaces coming to wreak havoc.
“Well, Roarke’s father was supposed to take the role ofAlter. Until at the last moment, he was glanced over and the position went to Val’s father instead,” Selise hastily explains, the two men drawing evernearer. “He’d never outright admit it, but Roarke is bitter and believes that the ven’Sols stole their legacy. And Val has always been a tad arrogant.” I snort, and Selise’s lips quirk up. “He likes to rub it in Roarke’s face. It’s bred a terrible rivalry.”
Instead of the terror that someone Val offers such violent stares should exude, the man boasts a smug grin. His yellow hair gleams like over polished gold beneath his slate grey hat.
Roarke makes to greet me openly, side stepping Val as if he were nothing more than a pile of dog excrement—blatantly disrespectful. A bold move that Val meets with grace, placing a firm hand on Roarke’s shoulder, physically stopping him in his tracks and putting Roarke at his back.
Unintimidated.
“Val,” I say breathless in the surge of emotions that ever accompanies his presence and deposit my drink on the table before it slips from my hand. Completely feigned of course. All a show for the crowd. “I didn’t know you planned to join us.”
Leaning forward with a smirk, he lays a kiss on my cheek. Warm. The gentle press of his lips against my skin is laced with all the heat of the inner layers ofinfernum, holding an equally sweet and filthy promise of all the things we didn’t finish last night.
“What can I say? I missed you,ocellus,” Val whispers in my ear, only for me. Not an act in the slightest.
“I saw you last night,” I offer back quietly. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, as I’m now recalling the encounter all over again.
“And the hours between have been far too long.” He pulls away, giving me a barely perceptible wink.
My chest is embarrassingly hot. I’m certain if I glance down, it will be glowing bright like a furnace behind the black lace of my dress.
“I apologize. I really hadn’t planned to intrude. But I ran into Roarke” —Val says the name terrifyingly pronounced, the K clicking off his tongue—“who heard of a lovely game of croquet taking place in the park. Seeing as how I couldn’t dissuade him from interloping on your afternoon, I decided to join myself.”
Roarke scowls.
A trickle of discomfort falls down my neck, and I take him in again. His rakish persona is still in place, but just behind it, a far more sinister promise simmers, his stare pinned onme,rather my husband. The heat behind it is threatening. Nefarious.
Considering the origins of their rivalry, what would Roarke be willing to do?
I’m not invincible. And it isn’t like married women are never targeted for non-consensual acts. Avinculumbond can’t tell the difference between assault and affair. If anyone had in mind to take what isn’t theirs, my wedding ring would still shrink against my finger, cutting off a vital vein that races to my heart. Eventually severing my finger and killing me if the abuse was repeated.
Instinctively, I lean into Val, my shoulder pressed against his hard chest. My nose sucks in the warm notes of his masculine scent. Clean and spicy. Woodsy.
In yet another moment of pure insanity, I thank thedeosfor my husband’s intense level of devotion to my safety. I barely stifle a shiver, noticed by Val. His hand on my hip grips me tighter, a wordless communication.You are mine, and I will protect you.
Val smiles, leaning in closer to me, lip rings barely touching the skin at my hairline, and says in a mock whisper, “You see, Delaney, Roarke and I are quite competitive.” Another reassurance.
Roarke waves a hand impatiently. “All of The Citadel and Omnitas—reallyNoctua—know that we’re mortal enemies, my Lord.”Something dangerous flashes over his face as he uses Val’s official title before he masks it again. “On the field.”
“On the field. Of course,” Val challenges back.
Not a single person in existence would ever believe that their competitiveness is limited only to sport.
Our party is sensing the tension between the two imposing men, thick like tar, and begins trickling away with vague excuses.
Unbothered and with pure adoration, Val brings his attention back to me. “I had in mind to give you another belated wedding giftthis evening, but what better time is there than now? Especially with the activities of the day.”
A flare of anger bursts in my stomach, thinking of the painting. The owl brooch. All the other small, thoughtful gifts he’s been leaving to try and earn my forgiveness. “You shouldn’t have.”
