Page 19 of Consume Me
And instead of ending him, I let him touch me.
I let him hold me. I let him whisper words that peeled back my armor like it was made of paper. I let him make mefeel.
And the worst part?
I liked it.
Not just because he’s the most gorgeous male I’ve ever seen. Because the entire time my hand was in his, the whispersstopped.
The entire time he touched me—silence.
No tempting pleas to slit a throat. No rising chorus of promises or threats or sweet, seductive bargains. The daggers didn’t utter a single sound as long as the stranger held me in his arms.
For those few minutes, I had peace.
The first I’ve known since the day I bound myself to these fucking blades.
I have no idea how or why it happened, but I already ache to touch the male again. To let him touch me. If it was only meant to distract me, it worked flawlessly. I’d thought only of his hands. His mouth. His heat. The way he looked at me like I was the center of gravity.
Gods, what is wrong with me?
The daggers rattle softly, like they know the answer.
You broke your promise, they hiss inside my head as I run through the maze of halls.
You were supposed to kill him.
You made a bargain.
My stomach churns. I pause and press a hand against the wall, steadying myself.
They’re right. The male I’m running from is the reason why I came. This is what I agreed to. One last kill. Then, no more voices. No more dreams of death. No more waking up drenched in someone else’s blood.
But how am I supposed to do that after the way he looked at me? The way he touched me like he already knew every broken piece and still wanted to hold them together?
With no answers to those impossible questions, I can finally admit to the horrible truthI’ve known since the moment I looked at him: How am I supposed to kill my own mate?
A sob claws at my throat, sharp and raw. I swallow it down.
I can’t do it.
Ican’t.
Which means…
I’m never going to be free.
I’m going to carry these cursed blades until they rot me from the inside out. Until they push me too far and I give in. Until they use my body and mind like they’ve used every bearer before me.
I round another corner, not even sure where I’m going anymore. Every hallway looks the same—opulent and endless. Like a museum built by a sorceress on a power trip.
I pause at the closest door and try the handle. Locked.
Another one. Same thing.
Third time’s the charm. It creaks open into a long gallery lit by moonlight pouring through a set of narrow windows on my left. To my right, as far back as I can see, paintings line the walls—landscapes, portraits, battles frozen in time. A harp sits unused in the corner. Dust motes hang in the air like enchanted snow.
I step inside and let the door shut behind me.
