Page 17 of Consume Me
Broody?Broody?
I snort. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I bet,” she murmurs. “You’ve got the look of someone with enemies.”
“Not to worry. They’re nearly all dead.”
She snorts. “Charming.”
In an embrace that leaves me aching for more, I spin her across the floor, and though I’m supposed tobe calculating a plan, all I can do is memorize the way her breath catches when I draw her closer. Or her full mouth with slightly parted lips, currently tempting me to forget everything I’ve worked for this past century.
Holding her in my arms feels like coming home.
And I fucking hate myself for it.
No, I hate Vaelora. In this moment, I know with absolute certainty she saw this coming and lured me here so she could watch it unfold. When I get my hands on her?—
“Who’s left?” she asks, yanking me from my malicious daydreams.
“Excuse me?”
“You saidnearlyall your enemies. Who’s left?”
Vaelora for one.
“Not whom,” I say before I can stop the words. “What.”
She tenses, but her expression remains aloof, confused. “What does that mean?”
“I’m a hunter of cursed things. And when I find what I’m looking for tonight, I will destroy it.”
My words, though softly uttered, hang like weapons between us.
Her lips press together, and her cheeks lose all their color. I wait, fully expecting her to continue playing at confusion or innocence. But then she says softly, “And what if the cursed thing is me?”
My jaw clenches.
And suddenly, I’m the one who wants to continue our game just a little longer.
“You don’t look cursed,” I say quietly. “You look beautiful. And maybe a bit lonely.”
That throws her. Her mouth opens, then closes again.
She looks down. Then back up, chin lifting. “You came to kill me.”
I don’t answer, but I can’t help but be impressed that, even as she says the words, her feet never miss a step. Not a trace of fear on her as she adds, “That’s fair, I guess, since I came here to kill you too.”
My grip tightens on her hand and waist.
The daggers thrum between us. Agitated. Confused. Maybe even afraid.
They should be.
And yet—so should I.
Because I can’t do it. Ican’tkill her. Not now. Not knowing what she is to me. But if I don’t fulfill my vow, if the daggers are allowed to exist, to continue to destroy… where does that leave us?
The song trails toward a slow end. My mate’s eyes lift to mine. There’s fear there now. But also something softer. Something I don’t deserve. Mercy. Hope. “What if we could?—”
